The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,6

explained. “Watch.”

Car doors slammed amid the sound of excited chatter from outside. A thin boy and a girl appeared on the veranda. They were dressed in rugged, dusty safari clothing, and Cora caught a glimpse of the same coded markings on their palms. The boy signaled to the blond bartender, who stepped onto the stage.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the bartender said, though there was only the one guest, “I am most pleased to announce a record-breaking hunt!”

Though his delivery was slightly stilted, his words weren’t as flat as Mali’s way of speaking, so he must not have been taken from Earth as young as she had been. At his announcement, another Kindred guest came through the veranda doors, dressed in safari clothes that looked bizarre against his metal-like skin. He dragged a bobcat by one leg. A rifle was slung over his shoulder.

“The first kill of the day!” the blond boy said. “This bobcat weighs in at nineteen kilos, and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, these animals are fast, with a top speed of . . .”

Cora felt her head spinning as the boy went on. The bobcat’s blood streaked the floor between her and the stage but was mopped up quickly by the dark-haired bartender. She rubbed her temples, feeling like she was going to be sick. “That’s real blood,” she whispered to Cassian. “Real rifles. You thought I’d be safe here?”

Cassian led her toward a row of alcoves separated from the main space by wooden screens. “I had no choice,” he whispered. “You would not have lasted long in the Harem menagerie; girls never do. They would have drugged you in the Temple, and I need your mind sharp. There are fewer regulations here, yes, but that is why I chose it. We shall be able to work together privately.” He gestured toward the nearest alcove, which contained a table laden with dice and decks of cards. “Kindred come here to gamble in private. It isn’t unusual for them to want a human companion to serve them drinks or to play card games with. As soon as I handle Issander, no one will spare a second glance to what we do here, alone.”

She glanced at the alcove with its low lighting and soft cushions. “Alone?”

Despite the fact that he was cloaked, his breath seemed suddenly shallow. She wondered if he too was thinking of the last time they had been alone, standing in the surf, when he’d pressed his lips to hers.

“For the training,” he said curtly. “You will need to master your perceptive abilities if you are to succeed.”

Worry crept up her back. “Succeed at what?”

He leaned close. “The Gauntlet.”

3

Lucky

“I’M SERIOUSLY SUPPOSED TO wear this?” Lucky held up the faded khaki shirt, matching shorts, and dented pith helmet the girl had just handed him.

The girl giggled. She had to be at least fourteen years old, but from the way she chewed on the end of her mousy-brown braid, she seemed much younger. Behind her, two rows of cells spanned the walls like prison barracks. About half of them were occupied by wild animals: a kangaroo, a hyena, a lioness asleep in the corner.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. For days he’d been locked alone in a tiny observation room he could barely pace in, trying to figure out what was going on and what had happened to the others. He finally had someone he could talk to, and she could only giggle.

“Listen . . . What was your name again?” he asked.

“Everyone calls me Pika.” Her nails, he noted, didn’t look like they had seen soap and water in years. “It’s the name of a rodent. But, like, a cute rodent.” She grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. “I like animals. That’s why they put me back here. At home my parents raised, um, I forget what they’re called. Oh! Ferrets. They said I could start raising my own when I turned twelve.” Her face fell momentarily, as though remembering that twelve had come and gone long ago. She swallowed nervously. “Anyway, I like animals.”

Lucky rubbed his nose harder. “How long ago were you taken?”

“Three years,” she said, then frowned. “Wait.” She counted on grubby fingers that were marked with lines and circles, just like his. “Four. Maybe five. Vampires of the Hamptons had just started. Is that show still on? Did Tara ever hook up with Jackson?”

His head was seriously starting to ache now. “I never watched it.”

Pika’s face fell.

“Listen,” he tried again. “Have