Every Other Day (22 page)

Take out the adults first,
Zev advised darkly.
Then go for the pups.

Beside me, Skylar brandished her Mace. Bethany appeared to be holding a gun. As best I could tell, Elliot seemed to have come to this fight armed only with a pair of lawn shears.

This could not possibly end well.

Your humans are very strange,
Zev said, as if that were the primary issue here. I could feel the hunt-lust rising in his body, the same as in mine.

Yeah
, I replied, the world around me going very quiet and very still.
They are.

A second before the largest male made its move, I made mine, flinging the knife in my hand and listening for the satisfying
thunk
it made as it tore through flesh and hit bone, knocking my target back and off its feet.

The remaining hellhounds growled and began circling. I kept my body between the others and the monsters, willing those beady red eyes to follow
my
movements, mark
my
scent.

The one I’d felled made a high-pitched gargling sound, and it stirred something inside of me.

Thirsty
.

Now.

I leapt the moment I heard Zev’s whisper, but this time, as my body collided with a hellhound’s, I wasn’t the one who went flying backward.

It did.

Its teeth tore into my flesh. My knife tore into its. The smell of sulfur and blood propelled me onward, as familiar and comforting as towels straight out of the dryer. Sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, I skewered the hound on top of me and was rewarded by its mate trying to detach my head from my body.

Behind me, one of the pups launched itself at Elliot. Skylar maced it.

I’d barely registered that fact before the beast I was fighting reared up, sending its massive skull directly into my chin. My head snapped back. I tasted blood in my mouth, but somehow, my dagger found its way to the beast’s eye.

That was when I lost myself to the moment, the weapons, the fight. There was a rhythm to it, unbreakable and swift. I felt like I was dancing. It rained blood.

As I dispatched the one I’d stabbed in the eye, the largest juvenile—nearly full-grown—came at me from behind, snapping its massive jaw and nearly bisecting me at the waist. But I was too fast for it, and it only got a piece.

A tiny piece.

I thrust my sword arm backward, catching another one of the beasts straight through its heart. Black-red blood bubbled to the surface, but the sound of a human scream kept me from taking it—any of it—for myself.

Bethany
.

I whirled around, expecting to see her impaled on razor-sharp teeth, but instead, I saw her staring in horror at Skylar.

She was lying on the ground—very still. She was bleeding.

One, two, three, four.

I couldn’t remember how many I’d killed. However many it was, it wasn’t enough. Elliot had managed to jam his shears back into the throat of the smallest pup, but it was still growling. I leapt for Skylar, but one of the remaining hounds took a swipe at my legs.

Inhuman rage bubbled up inside of me. In the bat of an eyelash, I had the beast’s head—as broad as a truck tire—in my hands. I pressed them together, my muscles tensing to the point that I thought they might snap, the beast’s bones cracking under the onslaught.

I met its eyes, and then, I tightened my grip and twisted.

A moment later, I flung its limp body to the side like a rag doll and eyed the remaining hellhounds.

There were two left—just two. They must have seen it in my eyes—the hunger, the rage—because they ran. With their tails between their legs, they lumbered off into the distance. I wanted to follow, but I didn’t. I made my way back to Skylar instead.

Her head was lying to one side. She was pale, bleeding, deathly still, and I froze.

I’d known she was holding something back—about tonight, about this place, about coming here, helping me. Her eyes shining, she’d told me that
this
was her choice.

No
, I thought.
Oh, God. No.

I knelt next to her and felt for a pulse.

“Are they gone?” she asked, opening one eye.

Relief—bittersweet and warm—surged through my body, and I jerked my hand away from her neck. “You’re okay?”

“I got clawed a little,” she said. “Playing dead seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

“Playing dead?” Elliot repeated, and I saw in his eyes that he’d bought her act as much as I had. From the moment I’d seen her lying there, I’d been sure that the worst had happened, that I’d killed her by not being fast enough, strong enough, smart enough.

“I’m fine,” Skylar said. “And even if I wasn’t—I chose this. I knew what it was going to be like, and it was my choice to make. Deal.”

For a corpse, she was starting to get pretty mouthy.

“Come on,” I said, wishing more than ever that I could send them back. “Let’s go.”

We moved forward, step by careful step, me on point and the others bringing up the rear. The world was silent, absolutely silent all around us, until I heard Skylar whisper a single word into the back of my head.

“Duck.”

One word. Just one whispered word—but I did it. I fell to a crouching position the second before some kind of spear came whizzing by my head, close enough that I could feel the breeze it left in its wake. Close enough that if I hadn’t ducked, it would have taken off my head.

I should have heard it coming. I should have smelled it: meat and day-old blood and something sickly sweet. Without thinking, I grabbed hold of the closest hellhound body. I dug my fingers into its hide and pulled, ripping off a chunk of flesh.

In one smooth motion, I stood, brandishing the hide as a shield.

“Okay, now that is disgusting,” Bethany said.

I didn’t reply. I was too busy waiting for the next shot—and tracing its trajectory back to the thing that had shot it.

I could see it in the distance, guarding the entrance to the building. It took me a moment to place it. Tail of a scorpion, body of a lion, three rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“Is that a manticore?” Skylar said. “Aren’t they extinct?”

Apparently not. Of all the creatures in the preternatural world, this one most resembled the kind of hybrids that Chimera was trying to build. It looked like a dozen different creatures, sewn together by the devil’s seamstress. I catalogued its weapons: the teeth, the tail, the poisonous spines. A niggling sensation told me that I was forgetting—something that I’d read in a book.

Its voice,
Zev said. Knowledge flooded my body—memories that weren’t mine, fights that my body hadn’t taken part in.

Lions roared. Harpies screamed. And manticores—with their human mouths and shark teeth—did something else, something unbearable and ungodly.

I processed the facts, but not fast enough, and the manticore’s cry reached my ears. It was like someone was taking a chain saw to my eardrums, making mincemeat of my brain. For the first time ever in this form, I felt something that resembled pain.

Blood poured out of my ears.

The others went down beside me, hands clasped over their ears, writhing in pain. I felt the warmth of blood on my face, trickling out of my nose, as the beast fired—one spine after another digging into my makeshift shield.

Skylar shoved something into my hands—the saw blade—and without thinking, I threw it. It cut through the air, a ring of silver light in the darkness.

I saw the moment it made contact. There was another scream and then silence—just the sound of a heavy object dropping down onto sand.

The manticore’s head.

“I thought that would come in handy,” Skylar said, satisfaction lacing her tone.

She’d already saved my life once here tonight, when she’d told me to duck. Whether or not her choice of weapon had made a difference in this kill, she’d already made good on her word that having them there would make the difference between life and death for me.

“I’m glad,” Skylar said fiercely. “I’d do it again.”

Sometimes
, I thought, sparing a smile for my small blonde friend,
crazy’s all you’ve got.

“Come on,” I said, ready to put this night behind us. “Let’s get this done.”

We managed to close the space between us and the building without straying from the path. The tracker in me could see the places where wheels and feet had tread before—safe places, in this rotting minefield.

Or at least, as safe as any place inside these gates could be.

How does the government not know about this place?
I wondered. The simplest answer was probably that they did—or that they’d chosen not to. I consciously sidestepped that thought as we came up to the door. I was on the verge of kicking it in when it opened, and I found myself inches away from the one kind of adversary about whom my instincts had absolutely nothing to say.

Humans.

Even in the dim light of the evening, I recognized Rena’s lackeys from the school, and they recognized me. The fact that I was walking around when they’d left me for dead on the side of the road seemed like the kind of thing their type would take as an insult, but their faces remained completely impassive.

They didn’t draw their weapons.

They didn’t say a word.

They just waited.

That was when I noticed the light glow to the air.

“Fireflies,” Skylar said, thoroughly bewitched.

Not fireflies
, I thought.

“Don’t look at it,” I ordered. Skylar smiled and tilted her head to the side. She walked right past me. I grabbed for her arm, but she pulled out of my grasp, following the tiny ball of light.

Beside me, I could feel Elliot and Bethany going slack, the tension melting out of their bodies as they took in the tiny dancing lights.

“They won’t remember a thing tomorrow,” one of the men in front of me commented. “Where they were, what happened … all they’ll remember are the lights.”

I cast my eyes downward, trying not to look directly at them myself.

Will-o’-the-wisps weren’t deadly. They didn’t feed on human flesh. They just confused people, led them off the path, made them feel like everything was all right, when it was anything but.

Even with my eyes cast downward, I could see Skylar tiptoeing farther and farther away.

“Skylar,” I said sharply, lifting my eyes to hers.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Pretty.”

I could feel the magic working its way into my system, but I shook it off.

I wasn’t safe.

These lights weren’t pretty.

I shouldn’t follow them….

“Well,” one of the men said. “Aren’t you going to help your friend?”

Turning your back on an enemy was always a mistake. Always. But Skylar was getting farther and farther away. Making a split-second decision, I turned and was halfway to her, my body blurring with inhuman speed, when one of the men I’d left behind drew his gun.

He took aim and fired.

Not at me.

Not at Skylar.

At her feet. I was fast, but the bullet was faster. It hit the dirt. I ran toward Skylar, ran toward her with everything I had, but my mind was still gummy from the will-o’-the-wisps, and the man in the suit had known exactly where to aim.

Undetonated mines.

I heard the explosion before I saw it. Flames lit up the night sky, and the force of it sent me flying backward—away from Skylar.

From what was left of her.

As I lay there on the ground, the smell of charred flesh told me that this time, Skylar wasn’t—couldn’t—be playing. Tears stung my eyes until the only thing I could see was the memory of her face the second before the mine detonated, the expression on her childlike features.

Bliss
.

30

“Lay down your weapons, come with us, and no one else has to die.” The man’s voice was soulless and calm, as he aimed his gun at Elliot and Beth, and that was when I realized—

They’d killed Skylar to make a point. To make me malleable. To hurt me.

No
.

Rage was a physical thing. It washed over my body until I was drowning in it, bubbled up from inside of me, like a volcano ready to explode. Inside and outside, hot and cold, it was everywhere, absolute.

I breathed it in, and I breathed it out. I swallowed the full force of it whole, because the alternative was giving into something else, that tiny voice in the back of my head that said that Skylar was …

No
.

I tore my eyes away from the body that didn’t even look like her, not anymore, and I gave myself over to fury.

Blessed fury.

My eyes narrowed into slits. My fingers curled to claws. The man who’d killed Skylar must have sensed the danger, because he turned his gun from Bethany and Elliot to me.

I was on him in an instant.

He went down, hard, and his gun clattered down the hallway like a rock skipping across water. I could have snapped his neck like a twig, a Popsicle stick, a toothpick.

But I didn’t.

I straddled his body and backhanded him. I felt the crack of his cheekbone. I smelled his blood.

Beside us, his partner attempted to jab me with some sort of Taser. I reached back, grabbed him by the wrist and snapped it, angling the weapon back at his chest, his torso.

I smelled the scent of
his
charring flesh.

The second that Partner Guy went down, the lights in the air dissipated. Whatever I’d become, whatever I was on the verge of doing, even the will-o’-the-wisps seemed to know that now was the time to run.

I moved to toss the Taser to the side, but noticed a variety of controls across the bottom. Mechanically, I pressed each button. A blade popped out of the back end of the Taser. An alarm sounded.

And then, finally, the gate to the complex opened in the distance.

“Don’t—,” the man underneath me—still breathing, still alive, the way Skylar wouldn’t ever be again—said. “You’ll let them out.”

“You killed her,” I said, pinning him with my knees. “She never hurt anyone, and you killed her, just because you could.” I looked him in the eye and dug my needle-sharp thumbnails into the balls of his shoulders, tearing through flesh until I hit bone.

He screamed.

“You killed her dead.”

The voice that said those words didn’t sound like my voice. It sounded old and angry, nearly feral.

“You’re a killer.”

I brought my face down near the man’s. My lips nearly touching his face, I lifted my bloodied hands to his cheeks, painted them red.

Thirsty
.

This time, I didn’t fight it. I looked at the man. He looked at me. And then I buried my head in his neck.

Teeth met skin.

Skin broke.

And I fed.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes to killing the man who’d killed Skylar.

Yes to the blood.

Yes to the red-hot fire and the feel of it against my throat and the living, breathing rage.

I could feel my pupils expanding, feel the man beneath me struggling, right up until the point when he didn’t.

The phrase “go for the jugular” had always sounded merciless, but this—this was sweet.

I couldn’t remember being human, couldn’t fathom the fact that I ever would be again. And that was the way I liked it, because being human meant knowing, remembering … it meant looking back over my shoulder and seeing the girl I couldn’t save.

The one who’d chosen to come here.

Chosen me.

You don’t have to do this alone. You shouldn’t have to.

Sometimes there are no good choices.

I’m glad.

Skylar’s voice ringing in my mind, I let loose my prey and sat up. Power crackled through my body. I felt strong, like I could pinch a bone ever-so-lightly between my fingers and watch it crumble to dust.

A rustle of sound caught my ears, and I whirled around, catching the scent of sweat and human tears. Elliot was standing in the middle of the path, Bethany lying on the ground beside him. Her eyes locked on to my blood-smeared mouth, and she scrambled backward on all fours, like I might kill her next.

Like she was scared of me.

I’m scared of me
, I thought. Blood on my face, my own heartbeat accelerating, I met Elliot’s eyes.

“Skylar,” he said roughly. “Where’s Skylar?”

The name hurt. Just hearing it made me want to cling to the rage, the distance, the thirst … anything but this.

“Where is she?” Elliot said again, his voice echoing through darkness and desert, sharp as a whip.

I couldn’t do this, couldn’t think this, couldn’t explain that the same creatures that had messed with his memories had led his sister off the path.

That she was dead.

Gone.

Just a body—and not much of one at that.

Without meaning to, my gaze flitted toward what remained of my first—only—

Friend
, I thought dully.
The word is
friend.

Elliot followed my stare, and he flew to her side, no questions, no hesitation. The few flames that hadn’t burnt themselves out licked at his clothes and hands, but he ignored them.

Touching her would only burn him. I knew that. It wouldn’t bring her back.

Moving slowly—for me, at least—I locked my hands around his shoulders and pulled him away from the fire, away from her. My eyes filled up with the things I couldn’t say, but Elliot stared straight through me.

He pushed me away.

“I’ll kill you,” he said.

I closed my eyes, the night air cool against my blood-damp face. I wouldn’t stop him. I wouldn’t fight.

“Elliot,” Bethany said, her voice breaking through the darkness. “This isn’t … Kali wouldn’t …”

She couldn’t form the words—not when they’d seen me tear out a man’s jugular with my teeth.

“Let’s just go.” Bethany’s voice was little more than a whisper, but I heard her just the same.

Just like I heard Elliot let out a strangled breath.

Just like I heard the two of them walking, then running away.

I watched them go, and once they were gone, I watched the place where they had been. Then, finally, I moved back to the doorway, stepped over the guards’ bodies, picked up the Taser, and pressed the button to open, then close the gate.

Nobody here but us monsters now,
I thought.

I half expected Zev’s voice to join the sound of my own, but if he was there, he was silent. Turning my attention from the inside of my head to what was going on outside it, I registered the ongoing ringing of alarms. I pressed another button on the Taser, and they stopped.

If anyone didn’t know I was here before, they knew it now.

But as I tossed the Taser to one side and began walking down the single hallway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there wasn’t anyone else.

Just me and the monsters.

I could feel them—close, but not too close, more of them than I could count. And yet, in this one, scant hallway, there was nothing but me and silence and the men I’d killed.

The ones who’d killed Skylar.

No
. I wouldn’t think her name. I wouldn’t think anything—but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find my way back to that place of pure rage. I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t frightened of the thing I’d done.

The thing I
was
.

Unarmed but for the gun at the small of my back and my smallest knife, I walked forward, my hands held out to the side, like I was some kind of dancer, like this was a tightrope instead of a hallway, and all eyes were on me.

I noticed a blinking red light in the corner. A camera.

“You wanted me,” I said. “Now you’ve got me.”

I waited for my words to sink in, then broke the camera.

My body warm with human blood, it took me two minutes to pace the entire length of the building.

Nothing.

No people.

No monsters.

No Zev.

There was, however, an elevator, and seeing it allowed me to make sense of the things I was sensing, feeling.

The hunter in me sensed prey, but no matter which direction I walked, the siren call of the preternatural stayed exactly the same.

I wasn’t getting any closer or any farther away, because getting to the beasties wasn’t a matter of turning right or left.

I went back to the entryway and snagged one of the guards’ IDs.

“Going down.”

The elevator door opened, feeding me out into another hallway. Unlike the first, however, this one boasted a light at the end of the tunnel—metaphorically speaking. Actually, the “light” was dark and shadowed, and the farther I walked through the hallway, the darker it got. As I rounded the corner, I realized that as ruined and rotting as this building looked from the outside, here, underground, it was immaculate. White walls lined a tile floor, and the room at the end of the tunnel wasn’t just a room.

It’s a mausoleum.

Or at least, that was what it looked like. The antiseptic white of the hallway gave way to walls made of marble and stone. I stepped forward, feeling like I’d invaded the sanctuary of the dead, and fluorescent lights flooded the room.

Almost immediately, I located a camera identical to the one I’d destroyed, and I wondered if they’d brought up the lights for my benefit, or if the cameras were attached to motion sensors. Either way, I could make out a door on the other side of this cavernous room.

I could also see the shadows on the floor, each one vaguely human in shape. I retrieved my lone remaining knife, and then I looked up.

The ceiling was twenty feet high, maybe not quite that, which meant that the creatures hanging upside down from the rafters were eight or nine feet above my head. There were dozens of them, each with a human head, human limbs, a human body.

Each put together wrong.

“They’re called the Alan,” a voice said. I looked up and saw that the door on the far side of the room had opened. “We didn’t make them, if that’s what you’re thinking. We found them in the Philippines. They’re hybrids, natural ones—between our kind and yours.”

Overhead, one of the Alan opened its eyes. They were startlingly blue. It dropped down to the ground beside me, and my mind processed the reason its body had appeared nearly human, but not quite.

Its arms and legs were on backward, its neck so thin it could barely support its head.

“They die young and can’t reproduce without assistance.” Rena Malik leaned back against the doorway. “Two- and three-helixed organisms can’t naturally crossbreed with anything approaching success.”

The Alan stuttered toward me, heels first.

“Watch out,” my mother said. “It bites.”

The creature didn’t bite me. It came right up to me and nuzzled me, its skin so thin I could feel the contours of its bones.

I stepped back.

“You can kill it if you like,” Rena said. I wouldn’t think of her as my mother, not ever, not now. “I won’t mind.”

Can you say gun?

I thought of all the games, all the tests, and I dropped my knife arm to my side.

“Go back to sleep,” I told the thing in front of me, sidestepping it and closing the space between me and the real enemy here.

“You could kill me, too,” Rena said. “But right now, I’m the closest thing you have to a friend.”

Skylar’s face flashed into my mind. “You aren’t my friend,” I said sharply.

“No,” Rena agreed. “I suppose not. But I am your mother.”

Hearing her say that was worse than the feel of the Alan’s cheek against my own.

“It’s good to see you, Kali. If you wanted to see this, see me—all you had to do was ask.”

My fingers tightened around the blade in my hand, but I couldn’t make my arm move, because her voice, the way she said my name, the soft smile on her face—it was all exactly the same.

Like nothing had changed.

Like she hadn’t missed out on more than a decade of my life.