Kat Falls - Inhuman

I didn’t want to make myself presentable, but when Dromo came back with a tux for Rafe, he laid out my options. “Either you bathe yourself or the queen will order the handlers to help you.” Having seen how the handlers had “helped” the lion-women get clean, I slipped into the old-fashioned bathroom without another word.

I was surprised that the light switch worked. How had they kept the electricity on? I left the filthy brown uniform in a pile on the floor and turned on the shower full blast. The water shot out rusty orange. While I waited for it to run clear, I unwrapped the bandage on my calf. The three long wounds were crusted with blood and the skin enflamed but not infected, and Everson’s stitches were intact. I eased my sore body under the spray, saving my calf for last. When I dug my fingers into my dirt-matted hair, a blade of pain stabbed my forehead where Chorda had punched me. I stopped all movement until it had ebbed to a manageable level, and then turned the water hotter.

How were we going to get out of this compound? And what was the point anyway? I’d failed Director Spurling, and now she’d execute my dad if he ever set foot in the West. So maybe Dad and I would stay in the East. Live in Moline. I’d sign up for work duty and live in terror of Chorda for the rest of my life….

My skin was an angry red and steam had filled the bathroom but I continued to scrub my body, then rinse, then scrub some more, hard enough to make the scratches on my arms bleed. Too bad I couldn’t peel off my flesh and sponge down to the bone. Maybe then I’d feel clean of Chorda’s touch. I jumped back when the water turned icy. At least I’d rinsed off first.

After wrapping my hair in a towel, I eyed my lump of muddy, sweat-soaked clothes and couldn’t even bring myself to pick them up. I put on the white robe that hung on the back of the door and stepped into the bedroom.

At Rafe’s startled look, I realized just how short the robe was. Worse, the silk was clinging to my wet skin. I braced myself for the lewd remark that was sure to come.

“Oh, come on,” he said, sounding dismayed, not lecherous. “Do not make my life this hard.”

“What?”

He shot me an exasperated look. “You’re Mack’s daughter. You don’t get to have a body.”

For the first time since coming to Chicago, I felt a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “I don’t?”

“No, you’re a head. A floating head. And sometimes not even that. Unless you want me to be the jerk who’s just after one thing.”

“I can be a floating head,” I said quickly. “But … you are the jerk who offered to take me to Moline if I shared your sleeping bag.”

“That doesn’t count,” he sputtered. “I didn’t know who you were. I —” He paused brow crinkling. “Hey, listen, could you maybe not mention that to Mack?”

I nodded. “So, what you said to Omar and the queen …” I wanted to ask how much of it had been true, but suddenly I felt exposed. And it had nothing to do with the skimpy robe.

“I didn’t want them to split us up.” He eyed me. “You know that was a lie, right? I’m not really in love with you.”

“Of course,” I said quickly.

“Good. ’Cause I’m not.”

“I know.”

“Glad we got that straight.”

I’d known better than to believe that he was in love with me, but I did want to know about the rest of it. Had he actually thought of himself as a stray animal? And had he really hoped that I’d come find him?

“Dromo left this for you,” he said gruffly, and scooped up a teal dress adorned with feathers from the bed. He tossed it to me and headed into the bathroom without another word.

I left my questions unasked. What would I do anyway if he said the rest was true? Hold him close and tell him that I would’ve come sooner if I’d known he was real? Oh, he’d just love that. Part of me did want to though — hold him close. And not just because he was the wild boy, my favorite character come to life, but for who he was now, and for the parts of him he tried to keep hidden. I held up the blue-green garment — a satin evening gown that was even skimpier than the robe. The material was a little moth-eaten in places, but it still gleamed. How was I supposed to make an escape in this?

Ten minutes later there was a soft knock on the door, and a girl with the flattened face of a Pekingese came into the room, her eyes lowered. Her white maid’s cap sat over one ear and, as with Dromo, a thick leather collar encircled her neck. “I’m Penny and I’m here to — Oh, you’re already dressed,” she said, looking anxious. “Well, the fit is beautiful. Dromo always gets it right on the first try.”

I smoothed down the bodice, which was embroidered with two peacocks whose tails cascaded over the flowing skirt in a shimmering mix of feathers and satin. “I didn’t need help with the dress, but I do need a bandage.”

Penny yipped when I showed her my lacerated calf. She darted from the room and then returned with everything she needed to disinfect my leg and wrap it up tight. After that, I settled on a leather ottoman while Penny pinned up my hair. I even let her dab lipstick on me.

“Is there a mirror somewhere?” I asked and then felt a pluck of guilt. I had two days to get back to the Titan wall before the line patrol blocked off the tunnel, and here I was curious to see myself all dressed up.

Fear sprang into Penny’s smooshed face. She gave the barest shake of her head and hurried from the room on bowed legs.

O-kay. Were they extra superstitious here in the Chicago Compound?

Dromo entered without knocking just as Rafe stepped out of the bathroom. I’d seen my father in a tuxedo many times and had always marveled at how it magically transformed him into someone glamorous. Putting a tux on Rafe, however, just wasn’t fair. With that face, that lean form, he was already the prettiest person in any given room. Did he really need a boost up to jaw-dropping?

He looked from me to Dromo, trying to gauge our expressions. “Go ahead, laugh. I know I look stupid.”

Dromo lifted a brow. “You’re not serious?”

“You look okay,” I told him.

Dromo turned to me. “ You’re not serious?”

“What?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “It’s nice to see him with combed hair for a change.” Though his hair was still unruly, waving past his ears and along the nape of his neck.

Rafe scowled. “Forget it. I’m not going anywhere like this.” He started to shrug off his jacket.

“No!” Dromo and I cried in unison.

“You look gorgeous, okay?” I added.

He broke into a slow grin. “Gorgeous?”

I directed a finger at him. “Don’t be obnoxious about it. Is there a mirror anywhere in this castle?” I asked Dromo. After one glance at his reflection, Rafe’s already healthy ego would probably grow as big as the Titan wall, but at least he’d keep the tux on.

“Mirrors aren’t allowed in the castle,” Dromo said flatly. “By the king’s order.”

“He’s that ugly?” Rafe asked.

“No one’s warned you about the king’s appearance?” Dromo asked in a low voice.

That sounded ominous. We shook our heads.

He smoothed the sleeves of his white dinner jacket without meeting our eyes. “You’ve met Omar?”

“Is the king as messed up as Captain Half Nose?” Rafe asked, coming to stand beside me.

“They were outside the compound hunting when a feral attacked the king,” Dromo said, speaking fast and low. “Omar saved the king’s life, though both returned to the castle badly wounded. They don’t hide their scars from that terrible day, but no one in Chicago ever dares to stare or bring up their deformities in any way.”