48. Ree

48

Ree

I'm not sure what Thivoll senses, but I trust his instincts.

Nothing looks or smells any different to me. At least not until we move into Silver's room.

She isn't there anymore.

I rush forward with a cry, but being inside only confirms that her entire cryochamber is missing.

I whip back toward Thivoll. "What do you smell?"

He takes in one of his long, whistling breaths. "Not a hunter. Some sort of prey, but not one I've ever encountered. I would guess male from the pheromones."

My heart drops. "Is she alive, you think?"

"I don't smell any blood. If they wanted to eat her, they would have just smashed open her chamber, not taken it. There aren't any drag marks, just a few disturbances in the dust on the floor."

"Oh, Silver," I breathe out.

No other words come to me. I can't seem to keep the woman safe, no matter what I do.

We continue searching, this time taking a much closer look for clues.

I'm not sure how we missed it as we came in, but there is a message written in what looks and smells like a ration pack on the wall of the main cave.

The writing is in fluid whorls and loops that the rough cave wall does nothing to diminish the beauty of, but the message is a chilling counterpoint.

I'm still staring at it with dread skittering along my skin and raising the hair on the back of my neck as Thivoll comes up beside me.

"Can you read it?"

"Yes. 'You hid what is meant for light. Moon daughter is mine."

He lets out a big huff of air. "That's excellent news."

"What? How is that good news?"

"He claimed ownership. That doesn't sound like someone planning to harm someone."

"The fuck, Thivoll? We aren't property!"

He holds out his hands toward me, palms out, his face flashing to violet. "I didn't say that, Ree."

"I've completely failed her if she traded one type of slavery for another. This is not fucking good news."

His whiskers droop and I feel like I've just kicked a puppy, but there's no room left amid the burning in my mind for apologies.

There's a weight in my chest that extends beyond the severity of the situation.

One my mind doesn't want to face just yet, even though it whispers that this is more about me than it's about Silver.

She can't be gone.

My lungs seize and my breath hitches. It was one thing to be away from her in pursuit of improving her health and environment.

I feel completely unmoored to no longer have her with me.

Thivoll is gazing at me, his whiskers lower than I've ever seen them before. I know I should comfort him, but there isn't space inside my roiling mind.

He hums and walks away, taking more long breaths. He does another sweep of the cave and then returns to embrace me.

I'm stiff in his arms, but I don't pull away. He repositions me so the glow of the bioluminescent lamp illuminates his open palm.

On top of it is a dark red scale with an oil-slick rainbow of colors on it where the light hits it.

"That's huge, Thivoll. If that's to scale based on snakes . . ."

I can't finish my thought because a giant red cobra big enough to eat me in one gulp with glinting red eyes flits into my head.

"I don't know what those are, but yes. He would have to be large. I would guess he doesn't have any legs and moves himself by bunching up and releasing a long body."

I shudder, a lump rising in my throat. "Yes. A snake."

"He took nothing else," he says in a low rumbling voice. "He wanted her, yes, but not for food or he would have eaten our rations. From the rate the smell is diminishing I think he likely came not long after we left and hasn't returned since. She was the prize in this raid, I think, and I'd like to believe that he wouldn't just destroy or harm his prize."

I let out a breath.

Oddly enough, he's starting to convince me, even while effectively scaring the tar out of me.

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or not, Thivoll. What if he returns?"

"Well, if I'm right that he didn't kill her, which seems likely, he's going to have his hands too full to bother with us. One human is more than enough to keep him busy. She'll be intelligent, of course, but I'm also sure she'll be sassy and willful, if my experience is a good indicator."

I'm wondering why he knows she'll be intelligent when his last comment and the side-eyed look he gives me catches my attention.

And of course my ire.

I grab onto his tail and pull it, finally doing what I keep threatening.

"Say that again?"

I know what he's trying to do and play along. The sick feeling weighing me down isn't helping anyone right now.

"Willful," he says, drawing out the word. "Unwilling to remain in safe places. Resistant to pampering. Frequently bossy. Shall I go on?"

I yank harder on his tail, but then he draws in a sharp breath, his eyes darting down to where I have a hold of it. I look down, too.

There's purple liquid seeping from his fur near my hand.

I instantly drop his tail, appalled. "Is that blood? What happened?"

My voice rises in pitch as I speak. "I'm so sorry! I didn't think your skin would just tear."

He pats my shoulder, his voice calm. "Let me see your hands."

I hold them up, gasping when I see long, pointed black nails. They are thick and come to a sharp point. "What the hell?"

Now I understand why the backs of my fingers have been getting thicker and more heavily scaled. The claws weren't there just a moment ago when we stopped at the top of the cave and I was scratching at the base of my nails.

"They are so precious. So tiny, yet fierce. Just like you."

I growl at him. At no point did I ever think I would be annoyed with someone for being incredibly accepting of my oddities . . . but that was before I turned into some sort of weird caterpillar that was turning into a clawed lizard instead of a damn butterfly.

"Fuck my life," I grumble.

"Of course, I will fuck you for life, my Ree."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up at the complete sincerity in his voice.

It's our most entertaining lost in translation moment yet and it helps jar me out of my self-pity. Considering how much bitching I've been doing about not having any natural protections, I should be pretty damn pleased right now.

How much I want to curse in a giant string doesn't help me appreciate the example of 'be careful what you wish for' though.

"How do I retract them, Thivoll? I don't want to go around stabbing you. Not on accident, anyway," I add with a growl in my voice.

He takes another few moments to stop chuffing, but then helps me out. "Most of us learn that as very young kits. But I've overheard mothers telling their young to have polite fingers."

He chuffs again and I want to slash him, or flip him off even though he likely wouldn't even understand.

"I really feel like giving you impolite fingers right now, Fluff Brain."

"Alright. Alright. Don't maul me. For me it feels like I'm taking a breath, but in my hands. Inhale, retract. Exhale, extend. Most of my friends only really talked about extension, comparing it to an orgasm or a sneeze."

I hadn't been paying attention to my hands when I cut him. Now I look at them, taking a breath in, then out and imagining they are moving with me.

Nothing happens. I think of sneezes, orgasms, yawns, even farts and still nothing happens.

After a few minutes, I look back up at him. "Am I stuck with these out like this forever? How am I going to touch you?"

He glances down at my hands. "Look."

I do and see that my normal nails are showing now.

I pull them up for a closer look. A short distance from the base of each nail I can see where the scales would part to let through my claws.

I assume they must glide over my existing nail base. The thicker additions to the backs of my fingers are now a second nail base for my black claws.

On a whim, I picture swiping at Thivoll with my impolite fingers, and they extend. I grunt, then think of polite fingers and touching him gently near his whiskers like he enjoys and they pull back in.

No way in hell am I going to admit that his nonsense about what mothers tell toddlers worked.

Never.

Then I think about Silver again. And the unknown woman that Szhe'ka went to go find. Two people I have no proper control over helping right now, but who I still feel like I need to be doing more to protect.

At least they have someone looking out for them, even if I don't really know their protectors' true intentions. I need to do better for the others.

My claws are out again and I need to do something with them.

"We need to do more than just survive, Thivoll. We need to find more women. Gather more allies than just Szhe'ka and Kuret. The hunters can't win. I feel like tearing into something. Anything."

He purrs and pulls me close to him. "We will. And that is a normal feeling, though more common in manticorid males than females."

I growl, the thirst for violence taking up so much room in my chest I'm not sure what to do with it.

Is this how all the violent offenders who frequented the ER felt? I suddenly have more empathy for them, even while rejecting their choices to act like they did.

What do I do to let it out? I really don't know.

I desperately need some sense of normalcy.

I push his chest. "Let me clean your wound."

He growls. "It's just a little kit scratch."

I narrow my eyes. "Unless you want more of them, you'll let me sanitize it."

He huffs, but sits back on his haunches and pulls his tail around and up to a comfortable working height.

"What a good Superkitty," I say in a singsong voice, then poke him in the ribs.

My heart still feels like someone is squeezing it in a death grip, and I know I really should apologize to Thivoll for snapping at him, but right now I just want to avoid it all.

I can't think about what it means that the one person who helped keep my mind in one piece for all of those long days of terror is gone.

I just can't.

Luckily there is a big, furry distraction in front of me. He shows me his teeth. It's the first time I've seen his alien Cheshire Cat routine since his initial attempt at a smile and it pulls a laugh from me.

I give him one of my crazy grins in response.

I make quick work of cleaning his wound, which it turns out is already closing up. I don't tell him that, though. After that, neither one of us seems to have the heart to say much more.

There's a tension between us that hasn't been there before as we lay down to rest.

I don't sleep for a long time.