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AMIRA
Iwas restless the entire flight to London. Anxiety pricked me with tiny needles.
Lero was gone, and I fervently tried to predict when and how his absence would be discovered as well as how it might affect Kyllen, Radax, and me. Too many variables remained unknown. A lot could go wrong, and so much was at stake. If I made a mistake this time, I would certainly die. The two people I cared about the most in this life would suffer or even die, too.
The moment we landed, Madame left for a hotel where she was planning to stay while the menagerie remained in London.
I drove with the bracks to the facility Madame had booked for her exhibit. Because there were so many of us, we traveled in several vehicles, and I had made sure to get in the one without Radax. I stayed away from him as much as possible. The less we were seen together, the less there was a chance for someone blaming him for my escape.
He’d be better off without me, I kept telling myself. He’d have less to worry about and fewer responsibilities. Still, my heart ached whenever I thought about him.
Once we arrived at the venue—a large exhibition hall of sorts—the bracks broke up. Some went to work on setting up displays. Others headed to the loading dock to unload the exhibits from the incoming trucks.
I spotted Dez. He’d arrived a few days earlier and now was giving the other bracks the tour of our area inside the exhibition hall. I hid behind a partition, keeping out of view. If Dez saw me, he’d demand the key to Lero’s restraints, but I had to find Kyllen first.
There was no sight of his crate anywhere inside the hall. I quickly made my way to the loading dock.
Two bracks, Leslo and Vuk, were unloading a wooden crate off the truck. It could be either Kyllen’s or Lero’s. Or maybe it held the dragon-man statue? It was hard to tell, as their crates were similar.
I waited until the bracks turned their backs to me, then snuck past them into the back of the tractor trailer. It was parked flush with the open doors of the dock for unloading. There was just one crate left inside. The question was, which one?
Hiding behind it from the bracks’ view, I called softly, “Kyllen?”
“Amira…” came back in a whisper.
My heart leaped with excitement, then relief flooded me. “I found you.”
“You did, my favorite little human.” The rasp was more profound in his voice, once again reminding me of the wind rustling through a pile of dry leaves. He’d been without a drop of water for days; his throat was too dry.
The warm note of affection in his voice stroked with pleasure inside me. He sounded happy to hear me, and it felt nice to have been missed.
I couldn’t help a smile. “I’m your favorite?”
“You’re the only human I’ve ever spoken to, my dear. So, yes, you’re my one and only, and my favorite by default.” He was teasing me. By now, I’d grown attuned to every slight variation of his voice, capable of reading his moods from its intonations. I could tell he was smiling.
The sound of bracks’ conversation moved closer. They must be returning for Kyllen’s crate now.
“We need to get you out of this box.” I slid my hands along the wooden planks nailed across the door.
“That I can do,” Kyllen assured me. “You’ll just have to tell me when, my friend.”
He’d mentioned he could free himself before, but the crate looked solid and strong. “Are you sure you can open it from the inside?”
He scoffed, and I imagined him smirking. “Just say when, Amira.”
The bracks were talking to someone just outside of the trailer. Next, they’d come here.
It was now or never.
“Now, Kyllen,” I exhaled in one breath.
“Step back,” he said with determination, then added with a hint of concern. “And Amira?”
I scurried to the far wall of the trailer. “Yes?”
“Close your eyes.”
I should’ve closed my ears, too, as a crashing noise followed, shaking the truck. Pieces of wood shot in every direction, hitting the walls of the trailer. I hid my face behind my arms.
“Hey!” Leslo yelled.
I couldn’t help a glance, lowering my elbow.
Brandishing a handgun, Leslo dashed inside the trailer.
“Stand back!” I screamed in warning.
A tall, hooded figure rose from the remnants of the crate. Kyllen stood upright, turned with his back to me.
“That felt good.” He kicked a piece of wood with his boot.
Dressed in brown pants and a sage-green tunic, he had a dark hood drawn low over his eyes. The material undulated and shifted around his head. The ends of the hood draped around his neck and shoulders like a scarf.
“Who the fuck are you?” Leslo shouted. The end of his question trailed off. His features slacked with understanding.
Kyllen raised his hand and lifted the edge of his hood up, just a little. With Kyllen’s back to me, I didn’t see what made Leslo’s expression turn to horror. Staggering back, the brack paled. His hand shook, dropping the gun.
Then… All color drained from Leslo. His skin, his eyes, his clothes, even the black lines of his tattoo—all turned gray. All fused into a solid, unmoving piece of rock.
Leslo was no more. Only a granite statue remained in his place, mouth agape, terror frozen in his dead eyes.
“Close your eyes, Amira!” A familiar voice warned.
Radax!
He rushed into the trailer.
Oh no. Not him.
