Kat Falls - Inhuman

I tried the outside first, rounding the corner to peer into the cage that ran the length of the building. I crept along the bars, searching for any sign of Rafe, but the enclosure had been landscaped with trees and rocky ledges. The streetlamps on the path cast strange shadows, making it hard to tell what lay beyond the bars. I brightened my dial, which was still recording.

Gunfire rattled somewhere close by, followed by men’s screams. I’d reached the door of the cage, but had seen no sign of life inside … which didn’t mean that something wasn’t hiding within the greenery. And then I noticed the form huddled on the ground by a trickling waterfall. It was Rafe — eyes closed, his skin gleaming with moisture. Was it from the splashing waterfall or was he sweating out a fever? I pressed against the bars. “Rafe,” I whispered as loud as I dared.

He didn’t so much as twitch. Oh no , I thought. No. Please don’t let him be infected! “Rafe, please wake up.” He wouldn’t lie to me. He’d tell me if he’d been bitten. “Rafe!”

The bushes across the path rustled as the branches were thrust aside. It was the blond handler, drenched in blood, his eyes wide and terrified. He staggered toward me but then something dark sprang from the bushes and brought him down with a snarl.

I jammed the key into the cage door, unlocked it, flew inside, and slammed the door behind me. I’d rather take my chances in here than out there. I hurried across the enclosure to where Rafe lay on his back by the man-made creek at the base of the waterfall. His tux jacket was gone, his silk tie undone, and his shirt, ripped and damp, clung to his body. All the color had drained out of his face. I could see that even in the dark. And worst of all, he was so still.

“Rafe,” I said hoarsely. I dropped to my knees and touched his face. His skin was warm, but not on fire. I gave him a gentle shake. If he didn’t wake up, how was I going to get him out of here? I could drag him through the cage door but then what? I’d never be able to carry him through the zoo without the ferals catching our scent. “Rafe, you have to wake up.”

He swallowed and then whispered a single word: “Run.”

He was conscious! “Where are you hurt?”

His eyes fluttered open. “Run,” he croaked, more urgent.

“Not without —”

A clawed hand sliced through the waterfall and clamped on to my wrist. I screamed.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave him behind.” Chorda unfolded from the crevice behind the curtain of water, dragging me up with him. “Your humane heart wouldn’t let you.”

Reeling back, I twisted and scratched at his hand, but he pulled me closer still. I flew at his face and ripped the bandage from his head. With a roar, he released me. I staggered back with the bloody gauze in hand. His right ear was gone, eaten by weevlings, leaving only mangled skin and gristle. Bile burned my throat. Spinning, I ran for the cage door, but he got there first. I bit back a cry.

Chorda smiled, his long canines appearing yellow in the lamplight. “Look at us, together again.”

“Is Rafe infected?” My words came out ragged. “Did you bite him?”

“Shouldn’t you worry about what I’m going to do to you?”

“It’s time, Lane.” Chorda smiled, bright and bitter. Long claws extended from his fingertips.

The memory of his claws tearing the queen’s throat came back so clearly that I couldn’t draw a breath. I looked into his burning eyes and saw his hunger. Terror shot through my veins and my legs shuddered. I ran from him, his laughter following me to the far end of the cage.

A pack of ferals loped around the corner of the building. One spotted me pressed against the bars and called to the others with a keening screech. They padded forward, sniffing and snuffling. One of them, a man infected with baboon, whipped around to look at the other end of the cage, his broad nostrils flaring. Suddenly, he sprinted the length of the enclosure and flew at the bars. Chorda sprang away from the door. The other ferals caught his scent too and went into a full uproar, shaking the bars and screaming — because of Chorda! They were straining against the bars trying to get at him.

Unconcerned, Chorda padded through the enclosure. He fingered the bright blue Ferae test hanging from a chain around his neck. “Once my handlers have this under control, I’ll walk out of here, a man once more. You, sweet Lane, will be in bloody pieces scattered across the floor, except for the chunks I throw to them.” He cast a hand at the frenzied ferals. “Of course, your heart belongs to me.”

I edged along the cage wall. “What happens when my heart doesn’t work?”

“It will.”

“It won’t if I’m not human.” I jammed my arm between the bars and the ferals came running. I whipped in my arm as the first one slammed against the cage. More piled against the bars behind me, thrusting their clawed hands through, scrabbling to snag me and drag me to them.

“One bite and I’m ruined,” I said. “An infected heart won’t do anything for you.” I could feel the ferals’ hot breath on the nape of my neck. All I had to do was tilt back a fraction and they’d have me.

A growl, low and quavering, came from deep in Chorda’s throat and turned into the snarl of an infuriated animal. He leapt for me, his glistening jaws wide. At the last second I dove aside and Chorda slid into a wall of grasping hands. My chin smacked the ground, and I gasped. Pain spread through my palms and knees.

I dragged myself up to see Chorda thrashing against the bars, trying to back away, but too many clawed hands had gotten hold of him. The ferals, screeching with glee and fury, tried to pull Chorda between the bars to their snapping mouths while they ripped at his flesh.

The baboon-man tore at the scarf around Chorda’s waist. My father’s machete skittered out of the fray. I ran after it, but another hand gripped the hilt first. I looked up to see Rafe standing over me. My heart stopped. His chest was lacerated and his face, bloody and battered. His eyes had a wild look. Was he infected? Fevered?

He thrust the machete into my hands. “I told you to leave,” he said hoarsely.

I rose, holding the machete so tightly my knuckles hurt. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

There was a strangled sound behind us, followed by a thin whistle of tortured breathing. Chorda had wrenched free of the ferals’ hold. Drool unspooled from his lips, a piece of his scalp lay flopped over one ear, and his body was badly slashed. Time froze as I met his gaze, bloodshot and burning. And then, roaring in mindless rage, he charged for me.

Something flashed in my periphery.

Rafe slammed into Chorda with a savage snarl and they hit the ground, their limbs crashing together. Rolling on top, Chorda lifted Rafe’s head and slammed it on the rocky ground. Rafe reached for the tiger-man’s neck, snagged the Ferae test, and twisted the chain tight while jerking Chorda’s head down. He slashed at Rafe’s arm, shredding his flesh until Rafe loosened his hold on the chain.

The tiger-man sat back on his knees and lifted a hand to deliver a killing swipe. My vision narrowed to a single point and I swung. The blade hit Chorda’s raised wrist and moved through it. One second the tiger-king had a clawed hand and the next, he didn’t.

Chorda screamed and curled around the bloody stump that had been his hand.

I closed in on him, letting my terror guide my arm. I raised the blade, but he exploded upward, twisting to tower over me. Blood spurted from his wrist. I bounced off my toes into a sprint and drove the blade straight into Chorda’s heart. He roared, flinging me away. I landed on my back, the air knocked from my lungs, but I pushed up to see him clawing at the machete with his one hand. The blade was stuck deep in his chest.