Shift
Page 48
“They tied us with ropes?”
Kaci nodded. “Thin yellow ones.”
Nylon. I glanced at my left wrist, but found no marks. A glance at my ankles revealed none there, either, which meant they hadn’t tied us very tightly. If they had, the ropes would have left marks even through our clothes. And we’d woken up unbound, barely locked into a room. Together.
Those were all good signs. They hadn’t killed us because they’d made a promise to Calvin Malone, and they obviously didn’t want to hurt us. At least, not until or unless we hurt one of them. Or pissed them off.
So, what now? Did they plan to finish slaughtering our Pride, then simply let us go? Had they already slaughtered our Pride?
My pulse raced, and I couldn’t stop it. Sweat broke out on my forehead, in spite of the chilly room.
“Faythe? What’s wrong?” Kaci scooted to the edge of the bed, and the old mattress let out a long, grating squeal. She froze, but the damage was done. Her eyes went wide and panicked, and her lip began to tremble.
“It’s okay.…” I crossed the room toward her, heedless of my own footsteps now; the nest itself was evidently holding up far better than the old furnishings. “We need to talk to them, anyway. We’re not doing any good just sitting here.”
Kaci bit her lip and blinked back tears. “You sure?”
“Totally.” Not that we could do anything about it if I weren’t.
From the hall came light, but obviously human, footsteps. Kaci’s hand gripped my good one, and every muscle in her body tensed. “Should we Shift?”
“I think it’s a little late for that. Besides, they might see it as an act of aggression.” The footsteps stopped outside our door, and the knob turned. “Don’t say anything unless I ask you something or give you a signal, okay?”
Kaci nodded as the door swung open.
The woman in the doorway was short, thick with muscle from the ribs up, and downright skinny from the waist down. She had a long, thin nose, almost nonexistent lips, and long, smooth dark hair—clearly her best feature. She was also completely nude.
Kaci flushed and looked away—she was raised among humans—and the bird-woman tossed a curious, headtilted glance her way before focusing on me. “I am Brynn. Follow me.” That was it. No please, no smile, and not even a glance over her shoulder to make sure we obeyed.
But there was nothing else to do. We weren’t getting out through the window, and while our chances probably wouldn’t be much better in front of a room full of thunderbirds, they certainly couldn’t get any worse.
Our room was the last in a long second-story hall bordered on the left with nothing but a wooden rail, worn smooth by what could only have been generations of hands trailing over it. Beyond the rail, the floor ended, revealing the drop to a huge first-floor room where thunderbirds of all sizes and both genders mingled and lounged, in various stages of Shift. There must have been fifty of them. And I could hear even more moving around behind the many closed doors.
Our hallway wrapped around three sides of the building, and the two floors above were the same; we could see identical third- and fourth-floor railings across the large opening. The front of the building was a series of small glass panes built into the wall, forming a huge grid of windows. The effect was a stunning, patchwork view of a wooded mountainside. And at the bottom, near the center, stood a single door—the only entrance or exit we’d seen.
Kaci gasped, and I glanced down, then followed her gaze up. Way up.
Then I gasped, too.
The building was cavernous and could easily have fit at least three more floors, although none existed beyond the fourth. Instead, the empty space was crisscrossed with exposed beams, and ledges, and nooks, most occupied by one or more thunderbirds. Those on the beams were mostly in avian form, perched like blackbirds on a wire, while those resting on small nests of pillows and blankets on the many ledges looked more human. Some even held old, worn copies of books whose titles I couldn’t quite make out.
It was like nothing I’d ever seen. This wasn’t just a nest. It was a true aviary.
Brynn made an impatient noise at the back of her throat, and I forced my attention from the spectacle overhead and nudged Kaci. Then we followed her down an open flight of stairs to the huge room below.
Like the levels above, the first floor was surrounded on three sides by a series of doors, though they were farther apart on the ground floor. I was guessing the first-story rooms were the Flight’s common areas, like the kitchen, dining room, and maybe more living areas.
As we crossed through the center of the open area, I glanced through several of the open doors. Most were sparse bedrooms, a bit larger than the one we’d woken in. But the doorway to one corner room revealed a large, bright space full of old-fashioned toys—most of the handmade doll and wooden block variety—and the distinctive flickering light of a television.
We’d found the source of the Looney Tunes. And based on the scratchy, low-quality sound, I was guessing they had only worn VCR tapes, rather than DVDs.
My steps slowed as my curiosity grew, and as I walked, I saw more of the room. And its occupants. At a glance, I counted half a dozen small children, none yet old enough to attend school.
But age wasn’t the only thing keeping these kids out of the human educational system.
As I watched, a naked boy of maybe four years—the biggest in the room—shoved one chubby fist through a tower of brightly painted wooden blocks. The small girl who’d been stacking them—also nude, but for a cloth diaper—scowled so menacingly I half expected her to burst into flames.
Kaci nodded. “Thin yellow ones.”
Nylon. I glanced at my left wrist, but found no marks. A glance at my ankles revealed none there, either, which meant they hadn’t tied us very tightly. If they had, the ropes would have left marks even through our clothes. And we’d woken up unbound, barely locked into a room. Together.
Those were all good signs. They hadn’t killed us because they’d made a promise to Calvin Malone, and they obviously didn’t want to hurt us. At least, not until or unless we hurt one of them. Or pissed them off.
So, what now? Did they plan to finish slaughtering our Pride, then simply let us go? Had they already slaughtered our Pride?
My pulse raced, and I couldn’t stop it. Sweat broke out on my forehead, in spite of the chilly room.
“Faythe? What’s wrong?” Kaci scooted to the edge of the bed, and the old mattress let out a long, grating squeal. She froze, but the damage was done. Her eyes went wide and panicked, and her lip began to tremble.
“It’s okay.…” I crossed the room toward her, heedless of my own footsteps now; the nest itself was evidently holding up far better than the old furnishings. “We need to talk to them, anyway. We’re not doing any good just sitting here.”
Kaci bit her lip and blinked back tears. “You sure?”
“Totally.” Not that we could do anything about it if I weren’t.
From the hall came light, but obviously human, footsteps. Kaci’s hand gripped my good one, and every muscle in her body tensed. “Should we Shift?”
“I think it’s a little late for that. Besides, they might see it as an act of aggression.” The footsteps stopped outside our door, and the knob turned. “Don’t say anything unless I ask you something or give you a signal, okay?”
Kaci nodded as the door swung open.
The woman in the doorway was short, thick with muscle from the ribs up, and downright skinny from the waist down. She had a long, thin nose, almost nonexistent lips, and long, smooth dark hair—clearly her best feature. She was also completely nude.
Kaci flushed and looked away—she was raised among humans—and the bird-woman tossed a curious, headtilted glance her way before focusing on me. “I am Brynn. Follow me.” That was it. No please, no smile, and not even a glance over her shoulder to make sure we obeyed.
But there was nothing else to do. We weren’t getting out through the window, and while our chances probably wouldn’t be much better in front of a room full of thunderbirds, they certainly couldn’t get any worse.
Our room was the last in a long second-story hall bordered on the left with nothing but a wooden rail, worn smooth by what could only have been generations of hands trailing over it. Beyond the rail, the floor ended, revealing the drop to a huge first-floor room where thunderbirds of all sizes and both genders mingled and lounged, in various stages of Shift. There must have been fifty of them. And I could hear even more moving around behind the many closed doors.
Our hallway wrapped around three sides of the building, and the two floors above were the same; we could see identical third- and fourth-floor railings across the large opening. The front of the building was a series of small glass panes built into the wall, forming a huge grid of windows. The effect was a stunning, patchwork view of a wooded mountainside. And at the bottom, near the center, stood a single door—the only entrance or exit we’d seen.
Kaci gasped, and I glanced down, then followed her gaze up. Way up.
Then I gasped, too.
The building was cavernous and could easily have fit at least three more floors, although none existed beyond the fourth. Instead, the empty space was crisscrossed with exposed beams, and ledges, and nooks, most occupied by one or more thunderbirds. Those on the beams were mostly in avian form, perched like blackbirds on a wire, while those resting on small nests of pillows and blankets on the many ledges looked more human. Some even held old, worn copies of books whose titles I couldn’t quite make out.
It was like nothing I’d ever seen. This wasn’t just a nest. It was a true aviary.
Brynn made an impatient noise at the back of her throat, and I forced my attention from the spectacle overhead and nudged Kaci. Then we followed her down an open flight of stairs to the huge room below.
Like the levels above, the first floor was surrounded on three sides by a series of doors, though they were farther apart on the ground floor. I was guessing the first-story rooms were the Flight’s common areas, like the kitchen, dining room, and maybe more living areas.
As we crossed through the center of the open area, I glanced through several of the open doors. Most were sparse bedrooms, a bit larger than the one we’d woken in. But the doorway to one corner room revealed a large, bright space full of old-fashioned toys—most of the handmade doll and wooden block variety—and the distinctive flickering light of a television.
We’d found the source of the Looney Tunes. And based on the scratchy, low-quality sound, I was guessing they had only worn VCR tapes, rather than DVDs.
My steps slowed as my curiosity grew, and as I walked, I saw more of the room. And its occupants. At a glance, I counted half a dozen small children, none yet old enough to attend school.
But age wasn’t the only thing keeping these kids out of the human educational system.
As I watched, a naked boy of maybe four years—the biggest in the room—shoved one chubby fist through a tower of brightly painted wooden blocks. The small girl who’d been stacking them—also nude, but for a cloth diaper—scowled so menacingly I half expected her to burst into flames.
