in his sleep.
I’d smuggled some raw meat in my pockets from the kitchens, which was gross even if I’d wrapped it in a waterproof leaf. The smell made me gag. Still, I cut it into manageable chunks using a blade with a leather-wrapped handle, I’d been given by Xavy, and it was a prized possession of mine.
“Do you think Rufus and Mozart could be friends?” Bazel didn’t have her pet with her because he would do nothing but growl at Mozart and alert the whole clavas to our activities.
“I’m not sure, honey. I think Rufus would hurt Mozart.”
“Would he eat him?”
Rufus was very docile, and kind of dumb. I didn’t think he had it in him to hunt a mingo. Luna on the other hand… she’d bite Mozart’s head off in seconds. “I don’t think Rufus would eat him, but I think he might play too rough.”
“That makes sense. Mommy said Rufus thinks he’s the size of a house cat.”
I pointed to the painting of Midnight on my wall. “That’s a house cat.”
Bazel’s eyes went big and she scrambled off the bed to get a closer look. “Oh, I wondered what that was. Mommy tried to tell me what a house cat was, and even drew one for me, but it didn’t look anything like this.”
I laughed. Anna had an amazing array of talents, but drawing wasn’t one of them. All of us females owed so much to Anna. She was the sole survivor of an abduction of women who’d crash landed on this planet—stolen just like us. She met Tark, fell in love, and they hid in a secluded home for ten years before Daz and Frankie showed up. Anna learned to make fabrics, cook Torin food, and generally was a badass at creating a life for her small family.
Now that they had moved to our clavas, we all helped to watch Bazel, mostly to give Anna and Tark a break, and also because we loved being with her. She was a glimpse into our future. I happened to love being the cool aunt.
“House cats are about the size of a mingo.”
“But mingo is cute,” Bazel wrinkled her nose. “This cat is kind of ugly.”
I gasped in mock outrage and dramatically slapped my hand over my heart. “Hold your tongue.”
Bazel giggled and flounced over to where I sat at my desk preparing Mozart’s plate. “Is it time yet? Can we give him his food now?”
We hadn’t been able to sneak away yesterday, which was why I was taking extra-long preparing his dinner today. “Yep, all done.” I gave my hands a quick wash in a basin. “Grab the plate and let’s head out.”
“Can I put the plate down this time?” She clutched it with both hands, level to her chest.
“Sure, you can,” I smiled.
We crept outside and around the back of the building, our shadows stretching nearly to the wall in the light of the setting sun. Bazel was asking me if we could try to pet Mozart sometime as we rounded the corner. When I saw what waited at the base of the wall, I stopped dead.
Nero leaned casually against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, his ankles crossed. At his feet sat a metal contraption I’d never seen before, and my heart thudded in my chest. Disappointment made my stomach lurch, and I hated how badly I cared Nero had let me down. So, on the heels of that, anger blazed through me so swiftly that I felt like screaming.
Motioning for Bazel to stay pressed against the wall, I barely reined in my temper as I stomped over to Nero. “You promised,” I hissed at him. His nubbed brows lifted, but otherwise he stayed silent as I raged. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone. You said—”
“I didn’t tell anyone.” His voice was frustratingly calm.
I hated being interrupted. “Then why are you here with this trap? It better be a humane one.” A sudden thought occurred to me. “He’s not in there, is he? Oh God, did you hurt him?”
I went to drop to my hands and knees to peer through the little holes at the top of the box, terrified I’d see Mozart trapped inside—or worse, dead—when Nero wrapped his fingers around my arms and hauled me back to my feet.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped at him as I wrenched myself from his grasp. “I can’t believe you. We’re not harming anyone feeding him—”
“It’s not a trap, Justine,” he said patiently.
I went still. “What?”
“It’s not