Page 59

Sickness rolls through me, my body and soul rebelling at her touch, and when she pulls away, smiling happily at Ferol, that feeling of wrongness is what breaks through that drug. Strength returns to my body, and the collector must feel it. Her eyes swing to me as my skin starts to harden to stone. Standing, she carefully walks backwards, her eyes on me.

Unlike before, I fight the drug off faster, and when I reach for her with a snarl, she jerks back out of the tube, and it slams shut just as I hit it, but I see the look in her eyes. She’s shaken.

Bang!

The noise has her jerking around, her eyes wide and confused.

“Perimeter breached. Unknown specimen in the collecting room,” the robotic voice announces as an alarm blares.

“Locate specimen!” she roars.

“Locating, locating, locating,” the computer says. “Specimen located. Row nineteen, tank 45—46—47—” I look up, spying the number on our tanks saying 50 upwards. She must realise it at the same time because she turns as a familiar, horror-filled noise reaches our ears.

“Oriana,” it hisses just before a blur tackles the collector to the ground. She yells, transforming. Scales cover her skin as she kicks him off, and they face each other. Ferol’s ex looks at her then the collector and roars, throwing himself at her again.

Suddenly, the mechanical arm comes down, capturing him as he roars and fights it. “Testing specimen. Result found in database,” the bored computer voice states. “Blood type, god. Level three.”

“A god? I already have one of those. I don’t need you.” The collector stops in front of his roaring face and drives her nails into his chest, ripping it open and tugging out his heart, eating it as we watch in disgust. When she’s done, there’s blood on her lips, and she looks at Ferol. “A collector, you see?”

As we watch, she seems to swell with his soul and magic as the arm discards his body by flinging it away, out of sight. The collector’s face contorts, crackling with power before it fades into her skin, only seeming to enhance the feelings she had—envy, jealousy, possessiveness. It rolls off her in waves and it’s centred on Ferol, just like he was.

With blood trickling down her face, the collector looks at Ferol. “I told you they were mine. Mine!”

She turns to me again, and I know there will be no escaping her this time.

“Hey, reptile bitch,” Ferol hisses, and the collector freezes, turning to her. “Didn’t you want to know what I am? Take a good look.”

“No!” I protest, but it’s too late.

She transforms, the giant bird flapping its wings inside the tube, her talons scoring the glass and floor as she hisses at the collector, who is frozen.

“A phoenix,” the collector whispers in awe. “I don’t have one of those.”

“And you never will,” she squawks as the glass tube seems to swell with heat, and then Feral blows fire right at it. The glass blackens then cracks before bursting under the fire, freeing Ferol.

“Capture the specimen!” the collector yells, and the arm returns, aiming for her, but this time, Ferol is stronger. I watch as she struggles in its unyielding grip, her fire burning the metal.

“Arm malfunction. Heat sensors overwhelmed,” the bored voice calls just before the hand opens, releasing Ferol in all her fiery glory.

With an ear-piercing screech, she dives at the collector and slams her into the metal, her head making a satisfying bang. I expect Ferol to tear her apart, but surprisingly, she only knocks her out and turns to us.

“Stone,” she hisses.

Unsure what she wants, I turn to stone, stepping back just as fire hits my tube. It swells, blackening then bursting, freeing me as she steps back. Ferol transforms back to human form, swaying slightly.

Hurrying out, I check her over before grabbing the collector’s device in her pocket and hitting the buttons. It’s how I got free before, and the fool never changed it. Our cages open, my brothers swarming us and her, checking her over just as the collector groans.

When her eyes open and focus on us, fear contorts her features as she scrambles backwards with a whine. “I saved you. I looked after you,” she shouts.

“She’s your enemy, your nightmare, not mine. It’s up to you how you finish her,” Ferol says.

“Go ahead.” I give the order out loud, but I didn’t need to because they hear and see my thoughts. As one, they converge on her, beating her like she beat them so many times before. Her cries fill the air, as does the scent of her blood.

I let them enact their revenge, painting their pain across her body as she screams and tries to crawl away. When they step back, I loom above her.

My turn.

Standing above her heaving chest, I peer down at her terrified face and grin in glee. “Who’s the master now?” I spit right before I drive my fist into her face, stone meeting bone, staunching her cries before they can escape. She isn’t dead. I know it. She’s very hard to kill. I learned that after our last escape, but this isn’t just my revenge. Despite how I feel, others have been here longer, and what better way for her to suffer? Pressing the remote, I hit all the buttons at once.