19. Oona

Ihaven’t stopped crying since I dropped my mate off at the docks, and it’s scaring away all the fish.

My blubbering would be beneath me on a normal day, but this morning it’s absolutely pathetic as I wade through the bog to catch my breakfast. Snot dribbles out of my nostrils and down my lips along with my salty tears. Gross. Gross and stupid. I’m gross and stupid and no one will ever love me again. Not the way Nick did. No one could ever love me like he did.

I thrust my claws into the water blindly, but the catfish that was in my sights flounders off in a noisy wake. It’s probably laughing at me right now and telling all its fishy friends about the over-emotional lagoon monster who can’t get a grip.

Nagging questions harass me as I trudge through the muddy waters. Does my kind mate for life? Do we die of heartbreak when our mates leave us? It sure feels like I’m going to die, but then again, what do I know? My sample size is one. One!

After half an hour of snorting down phlegm and tears, I give up and start the journey back home with an empty belly. It’s fine. I probably wouldn’t be able to keep anything down, anyway, and I still have a jar of fermented flies in the cabinet to snack on if things get too dire. Locusts scream their obnoxious mating calls as I trudge through the reedy grass. Maybe later I’ll see about climbing a few trees and catching the little belligerent assholes. They’re loud, but they make for good eating.

But the sound of the locusts drowns out all other sound in the area, so I don’t hear the buzz of the motors as the boat approaches. I don’t see it, either, thanks to the tall grasses that come up to my forehead. Not until the boat is practically on top of me, carrying several armed men, their tongues wagging out of their mouths like they’re crazed. Their weapons, sleek and long, should be alarming to me, but all I feel is the dull ache in my chest.

I crouch down in the grass, but when I hear a human male shouting, I know that it’s too late. I’ve been caught.

They yell in words I haven’t learned yet. Nick’s lessons were adequate, but it’ll take a lot longer than three months to master the language. Which is unfortunate for me, because had I known what the men were shouting, I would have known to run for my life.

A net made of metal is thrown on top of me in the grass, and I let out a guttural hiss in a voice even I do not recognize.

No. No, not like this. Please, not like this.

The men, all covered in ink like my Nick was, hoist the net along with me in it on board. I land with a thud and immediately thrash around like an alligator doing death rolls. They mean to hurt me. Maybe even kill me. I cannot let them, no matter how badly my heart hurts and begs to be put out of its misery. The men shout and scream as they try to get close to me, try to stick me with something sharp and silvery. And then a large male, much bigger than my Nick was and dressed in a loud flower pattern shirt, steps forward and removes a metal instrument I do not recognize from a box.

“Relax, relax,” he murmurs.

When he draws closer to kneel in front of me, I thrash again, hitting his face with one of my claws. A streak of red blooms underneath his eye, and when he presses his palm to his cheek, he lets out a dark chuckle.

“You stupid bitch,” he mutters. His voice sounds like rusty nails scraping together.

I spit at him. My saliva hits his face, and he closes his eyes. The wound on his face immediately begins to heal before my very eyes.

One of his men notices and yells something in Nick’s tongue that I don’t understand. When the man in black touches his face and looks down at his hand, I know I’m in deeper trouble than ever before.

“Well, well. Aren’t you something?” the man mutters again as he smiles at me. He smells like tobacco and piss and my nostrils burn just from being near him. “We’re keeping this one. She’ll fetch a good price. I know a guy who’s dying to get his hands on some exotic meat.”

I’m not sure what the black market is, but I know it isn’t anything good. I have to get free. The man clucks his tongue as he hovers over me, and my eyes widen as he slams the sharp needle into my side.

Letting out another defiant hiss, I bare my fangs at the man until my world goes blurry then, finally, dark as I fall asleep.

I waketo the sound of humming. Not the locusts, but a deep vibration that sounds artificial. When I open my eyes, I realize I’m in a cylindrical object and submerged in water. A few silhouettes move in the distance, but I can’t make out anything more than a few feet in front of me.

Pressing my hands against the glass, I let out a sharp wail. “Get me out of here!” I scream, banging on the glass. Whatever is pumping through the water is making me sleepy. It’s probably to keep me as weak and tired so I can’t escape.

The mean white man from earlier appears in front of my tube. Now that I can get a better look at him, I notice he’s older, with more than a few lines on his face. Maybe once upon a time he was considered handsome, but now he looks like chewed up boot leather. When he smiles, I can make out the yellow of his grimy teeth and something metallic glinting in the light. Fake teeth, perhaps. His greasy blond hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, and he’s wearing the same tropical patterned shirt from earlier.

“Easy now, girl,” the man says as he approaches my tank. “Easy.”

“I’m not a girl, and I want to be free!” I snarl in his tongue.

Then he launches into a long-winded monologue, but I only catch a word here and there. Nothing I can glean from context clues like Nick taught me. Nothing that would help me parlay with him. A few other men dressed all in black and wearing masks enter the room. When they look up at me, their mouths twist in disgust. The same way Nick once looked at me until he came to love me. These men are armed to the teeth with those weapons made of long, sleek tubes, and they wear an overabundance of gold jewelry around their necks and wrists.

I slam my fists against the glass and scream. All in vain, of course. It won’t shatter and they won’t listen to me.

The men look up at me again, warily, and the man with the ponytail says something to them that makes them all go away in a hurry. Then Ponytail looks up at me again, and his thin, pale lips pull back into a cruel sneer before he ambles away.

I settle down to the bottom of the tank and curl my tail around myself like a blanket. I force back a sob, not wanting anyone out there to hear me crying. My thoughts drift to my mate, long gone and probably enjoying his return to civilization by now. Nick. My Nick.

None of this would have happened if my mate were here. I’m sure of it.