The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,79
Gauntlet or not.”
Cora had so many things to say, and yet couldn’t seem to speak a single one of them. For the rest of the day, his words swirled in her head as she sang distracted songs while the others went about their work, a little more cheerfully now that Dane was gone. Christopher and Mali didn’t get into any fights. Shoukry slipped some sugar and lemon into Cora’s water as a treat. Makayla even jumped onstage and sang a song with her, though her voice was terrible.
The whole time, Cora couldn’t shake Lucky’s words.
Where we’re needed.
SHE WAS STILL TRYING to put their conversation out of her head when it was time to meet Leon that night. Most of the animals had fallen asleep quickly, and the other humans too. She focused on opening her cell’s lock, ignoring how her pain was worsening, and the images of Roshian screaming in pain.
She opened Lucky’s and Mali’s cells too. Wetness dripped beneath her nose but she wiped it away, hoping the others wouldn’t see. The three of them tiptoed to the feed room, then knocked twice on the drecktube door.
Leon shouldered it open. “Took you long enough.”
They climbed in, crawling in a single line in the maze of tubes only Leon knew, until at last they arrived at Roshian’s quarters. They were similar to Cassian’s; so similar that Cora’s thoughts, a little heady, kept swimming back to the night before. She had promised to forgive Cassian if he helped her. Part of her wondered if maybe that’s why she was so anxious to board that ship and run. Not just to go back to Earth—but to escape promises she had made.
Leon pushed open a panel to reveal a hidden room. It smelled stale, like old paper. He flicked on a lamp. Inside were stacks of books, artifacts, and a dressing table. He dumped a box out on top of the table. “This is the stuff.”
Lucky riffled through the box of supplies, lifting out a uniform.
Cora inspected the other objects. Black contact lenses. The tube of metallic paste that wasn’t paste at all, but microscopic metal pieces. Papers and documents marking Roshian as a Kindred, along with notes he’d meticulously kept of ways they spoke and their mannerisms. She handed Leon the contacts.
“Put these in. They have to cover your whole eye, not just the iris.”
It was a hard black shell the size of half a golf ball. He groaned as he lifted his eyelid and jabbed the contact in with unskilled hands.
Lucky sighed. “Let me. My granddad wore contacts and was always getting them stuck.” He fiddled around with Leon’s eye, trying to find the best way to insert the lens, and finally figured out, after a lot of Leon’s cursing, that he could slide it in from the top.
Leon blinked with his one black eye.
“Can you see?” Lucky asked.
“Yeah. Like sunglasses.”
He groaned again as Lucky jabbed in the other one. When it was done, he kept squinting and blinking, tilting his head to try to see out of the corners.
“The Kindred don’t blink much,” Cora said. “You have to practice showing no emotion.”
“You try shoving these in your eyes and not blinking.”
“I don’t get how this paste works.” Cora squeezed the tube, and the contents came out in a single thick blob.
Mali took it from her. “It is Axion technology. They use something like this to bathe but it is white. The pieces coat the body and attract dust and dirt like a magnet. Someone has modified this so that it clings longer and added small metal pieces to mimic Kindred skin.”
“Roshian’s file said he was a med student studying chemistry,” Cora said. “Maybe he altered it himself.”
Leon grabbed the paste from Cora’s hand. He slapped it onto his bare arm and, at first, nothing happened. Then it slowly started to absorb into his skin, spreading like melted butter until his biceps was a shimmering copper color, then his forearm, then his shoulder. Once it was done, Cora eyed him eerily. If it wasn’t for the rumpled clothes Leon was wearing, it might have been Roshian sitting there, or any of the Kindred.
“What does it feel like?” Lucky asked.
Leon shrugged. “Like I look like a sparkly idiot.”
“No, it’s good,” Cora said. “It’s believable. It covers your tattoos, and even the bruises.”
Mali dumped the uniform in his lap. “Dress yourself.”
Leon started unbuttoning his shirt.
“The lotion doesn’t seem to rub off,” Cora said, rolling a dab of it between her fingers, “but I