The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,37

panting from the heat, blinking slowly at the rifle. Just as Roshian pulled the trigger, he looked away.

Crack.

The bullet tore through the air. Scavenger flinched with a yip of pain than shot through Mali’s heart, and by instinct her hand went for the door latch to run to him, but she let her hand fall. It wouldn’t do any good.

Scavenger tried to stand, only to collapse. Chemicals in the simulated bullets would be spreading through his bloodstream, inducing temporary paralysis and triggering extra blood flow and bruising around the wound.

“Jesus,” Lucky said softly. “This is even worse than what happens backstage.”

Jenny leaned on the hood of the vehicle and muttered through the open window, “Seriously. He’s one sick bastard.”

Mali looked at her, but Jenny didn’t elaborate.

Christopher signaled to Jenny, who snatched up the carcass bag and crossed the dusty plain to Scavenger’s body. Mali waited behind the wheel, her arms folded tight. Lucky was still rubbing his finger over the words carved in the dash, looking anywhere but at Scavenger.

Christopher and Jenny started to load Scavenger into the back of the vehicle, but Roshian shook his head.

“Wait.”

Roshian knelt by the carcass bag and extracted a knife from his pocket. Real metal. An artifact from Earth—highly contraband. Roshian opened the bag’s netting and took out one of Scavenger’s stiff front paws.

Mali threw open the drivers side door. “This is not protocol—”

Jenny reached out, stopping her. “Hey, let it go,” she said in a hushed warning.

“He is going to hurt Scavenger.”

“Scavenger’s already dead, don’t you get it? Roshian made Christopher replace the simulated rifle with a real one. Said he made some deal with Dane about it.”

The flames of anger inside Mali flickered wildly. She threw a look back to Lucky, who looked as shocked as she was. Dead? Scavenger was dead? He wouldn’t wake up later, rubbing his nose with his paw?

The flames of her anger dimmed lower, growing hotter, until they were tight as coals. She climbed back in the truck and slammed the door, flexing and unflexing her hands, as they watched Roshian press the knife point against one of Scavenger’s toes.

Jenny leaned close to the window. “I think it’s the kill he wants,” she whispered, “not just the hunt. And I don’t think this is the first time. Remember that whitetail deer that died? Dane said it was sick, but it didn’t look sick to me. And he claimed he had to saw the antlers off to make it fit down the drecktube, but that tube’s pretty big when it’s unlocked.”

Mali whirled in confusion. “What do you mean.”

“Think about it—none of us ever saw those antlers again. I think Roshian wanted them as a trophy. Hunters do that on Earth, sometimes. Hang them above the television set or whatever. It’s like how the Axion think certain body parts have medicinal uses.”

“It is against the moral code.”

Jenny let out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah. Well, no good reporting it to Dane. He’s in on it.”

They watched as Roshian dug the knife blade deeper. Blood seeped from the wound as he sawed at flesh and fur and tendon, then slipped the claw into his pocket. Mali flexed her own scarred fingers.

“Take me back to the lodge,” he ordered, climbing into the rear seat.

Beside her, Lucky was quiet.

Mali started the truck with shaking fingers.

She had thought the Kindred were like family. Cassian, who had rescued her. Serassi, who had healed her wounds. But now, as she threw the truck into reverse and glanced at Roshian in the rearview mirror, she realized that none of them were family. Her real family was still in that desert on Earth, with the camels and the hot tea.

Cora had been right. They didn’t belong here.

She glanced at Lucky. His attention was still on the carving in the dashboard. Numbers, it looked like. Or letters. “You seen these before?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Chicago used to drive this truck. Maybe he carved them while he waited for the guests to hunt.”

“I think I’ve seen the numbers somewhere.”

In the rearview mirror, Roshian snaked a hand up to his buzzed head, where a line of sweat ran down to his face. He dabbed at it slowly, all the while stroking the claw in his pocket.

Mali flexed her hand again.

Yes, he was definitely more dangerous than anyone imagined.

16

Cora

BACKSTAGE, THE CLOCK CLICKED over to indicate that Free Time had ended.

All the kids climbed into their cages. Sighs and grumbles, blankets being rolled out, Makayla kicking off her shoes and rubbing