A woman, at least, it had been a woman, was in the cage. Her skin was a pale green color, and patched with scales. The backs of her hands, the tops of her feet, her forehead and cheekbones, all covered in scales. She snarled at the crowd, sharp pointed teeth. Her hair grew only in patches.
Her footsteps remained light in the cage, and when she could move freakishly fast. The cage was just big enough for her to sprint across it and back, and the crowd oooed and ahhed as she did so. The louder the crowd became, the more frantic the woman’s energy grew. After a couple minutes, she ran to the glass and ran up the glass. Pausing at the top of the enclosure when she reached the ceiling.
Carver’s jaw dropped. That shouldn’t be possible. To have practically seamless intertwined DNA in a way that actually functioned. This was what that report had talked about. “I don’t like this.” Clara whispered.
“It’s fascinating,” was all he could reply, fully entranced with the being they were watching.
Clara tugged at his hand, “Let’s move on.”
The creature seemed to look right at him, her pupils more slit than round. She slid down the wall of the cage, and he could have sworn he saw the agony in her expression. Eventually, he allowed Clara to pull him away.
37CLARA
“It’s fascinating? That’s your response to those atrocities?” Carver shook his head, but Clara didn’t give him the chance to respond. “It’s disgusting. It’s a perversion. People playing gods. Or now that you’ve seen one in person, are you suddenly on the side of the scientists?”
“Keep your voice down,” he said, voice low.
She smacked his chest, but he caught her hand and gave her a stern look. “We’re surrounded by people. This is a conversation we need to have later.”
She hated that he was right. She wanted to tell him that, but doing so would most likely attract the attention of those around them. Already she could feel the stares from curious bystanders wondering why a Calyndor girl was picking a fight with her husband. So she smiled, and kissed him on the cheek like it was all a big joke, hating him and herself for every fake moment. But as she pulled away she whispered, “I hate you. So much.”
His eyes were sad when he smiled, sympathy lacing his tone, “Darling, I don’t believe you actually hate me.”
Her forced smile faltered, but she shook off his words and became the image she needed to maintain. Forcing a laugh she ignored his words and said, “Let’s find some food.”
He swung her hand gently as they walked, and she thought through all the various ways she could make him pay. Stab him in the middle of the night, strangle him with a piece of wire, suffocate him with a pillow. Any of those would work. He was sleeping in the same room as her. It would be so easy to end him.
A dull pain echoed through her chest. He had been her best friend. The love of her life. And here she was, contemplating all the different ways she could kill him. She should be ashamed. But she wasn’t. Actually, she was proud of herself for not falling for him again. For keeping her head on straight.
They found a stand selling finger foods. Supposedly the deep fried items were a delicacy. Clara gagged on the first bite and Carver burst out laughing.
“Not your thing?”
She tentatively took another bite as he watched. “Just haven’t had anything like this.”
“That’s what this festival is for, my dear. To try new things.”
The second bite was better, and by the time she finished it, she claimed she enjoyed it.
“What else do we want to see?” Carver asked her.
“What else would be beneficial?”
A bell rang, and people rushed towards a stage that had been set up on the other side of the square. “No idea. But that could be interesting.” He nodded towards the group.
She tucked her hand behind his elbow, preferring that to holding his hand. Holding his hand brought up too many old memories she needed to keep buried.
“I’m sorry.” He said as they walked towards the stage.
“For?”
“All of this. I know it can’t be easy.” Almost the same words they kept throwing back and forth. The only admission allowed regarding what this mission was costing them.
She didn’t respond, and they wound their way through the crowd, people pressing against them on all sides as they drew closer to the stage. A man in a top hat jumped on stage and with a shout said, “Welcome, to the event that surpasses all events. My name is Holden and I am here to amaze you with the moment you all have been waiting for. The demonstration of the scientific prowess Noxvalis possesses.” Every word was accompanied by motions, and even with the crowd of people his voice remained clear. Clara was certain it was being amplified, but she couldn’t figure out how.
“You’ve seen our beautiful Lizzie,” she nearly gagged again at his nickname for the woman he had seen, “And now, we have another proud creature to show you. After months and months of edits, and multiple failed attempts, may I introduce Maximus!”
The crowd burst into applause, and to Clara’s shock the center of the stage separated, and another cage came up. This one was bars instead of glass. Inside was a man, his mouth open and unable to close because of the teeth protruding, his lips stretching to contain the canines. He sat back, crouched on his back legs with his fists on the ground in front of him. He snarled at the crowd, and the front row shifted back nervously.
