The Pandora — a llama — cries in pain and trots in circles, blood painting the sand.
Behind Long Legs, the other guys spring into action. They dart toward the creatures, their knives flashing. But this time, the Pandoras know what’s coming. They bolt into the cold night — wings beating, hooves thumping. I almost whoop with joy when Harper’s eagle flies into the air and vanishes. The guys pursue the Pandoras as Titus screams.
“I told you to tie them up,” he yells. “Every damn night! Tie the Pandoras up before you eat! How hard is that?” Titus paces, hands in his hair. “Now what are we going to do? What are we going to do?”
Moments later, the guys return. They pant and bend over to catch their breaths as I try to figure out why they’re killing the Pandoras. But they’re not trying to hurt all the Pandoras. Just the stolen ones. All that’s left now are our own. Slowly, Long Legs raises his head. His eyes fall on something lying on the ground. My muscles clench when I realize what it is.
I thought all the stolen Pandoras had flown. But I was wrong.
There’s one left.
Levi’s ram.
Instinctually, I race toward it, silently begging Madox to follow. My Pandora stays right by my side as I throw myself in front of G-6.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I snarl. “But you won’t touch this creature.” Braun moves toward me, and I jab a finger in his direction. “I’ll ask my Pandora to change. He can mimic anything your Pandoras can do. And he will kill you. To hurt this ram, you’ll have to hurt me. And then my fox will kill you.” I hold both my hands up in front of me, hoping that what I’m saying is true.
“Tella.” Titus says my name like I’ve lost my mind. “Don’t be unreasonable. There are six of us, and we each have Pandoras. We can get past you. And we can get past it.” He nods toward Madox.
I nearly scream when a ball of gray rolls next to my boot and into the firelight. Everyone stops and looks down. Titus cocks his head. “What the hell is that?” he says.
The ball of gray unravels and spikes shoot out from its fur.
“It’s my Pandora, asshole,” Ransom says, stepping into view. “And the girl’s right. You’re not killing that ram. Over my dead body.”
When I see Ransom so close by, the knife in his hand and the resolve on his face — my heart leaps. My plan was to flee tonight as the guys slept. But now is even better. I step closer to Ransom and we exchange looks. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to know we’re on the same page. That we’re going to get Levi’s ram and get the hell out of here.
“You’re crazy if you think you’re leaving with that Pandora,” Long Legs says.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m not,” Ransom answers.
“For crying out loud, can we stop making empty threats?” Titus grins like this is the most fun he’s had all year. “Get this joker out of here.”
The guys charge us. I think their goal is to hurt Ransom, but they seem much more interested in DN-99, the little raccoon who could. One guy chases the Pandora around the blaze, and in the blink of an eye, DN-99 burrows beneath the sand and is gone. The creature reappears seconds later beneath the guy’s feet. Spikes spring out from the Pandora’s coat and jab into his boots. The guy hollers in pain and falls to the ground. He tugs his boots off and inspects the damage.
Upon seeing this, the other Triggers become more agitated. They watch as the raccoon disappears once again. And then they wait.
DN-99 bursts from the ground beneath another guy’s feet, and down he falls.
“He’s like a land mine,” I tell Ransom.
“That he is.” Ransom smiles in my direction, and I’m so happy, I almost don’t see a third guy storming toward me. Luckily, Madox does.
Stop him! I think, though I have no idea how Madox could do that.
My fox — dressed as a pig — races in front of me and oinks insistently. Surprisingly, the guy stops, knife-wielding arm suspended in the air. He meets the pig’s eyes dead on, and when he does, an empty expression crosses his face. Then he brings the knife down and points the tip beneath his own chin. Even though the guy doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening, his whole body shakes with fear. The knife digs into his neck and a trickle of blood escapes the wound.
Understanding crashes over me. “Madox, stop.”
My Pandora backs away, and I back away with him. When Madox breaks eye contact, the guy shakes his head like he’s confused. It’s like he doesn’t remember that a pig just mind freaked his ass.
Hearing a loud squealing sound, I spin around. The guy without boots is trying to plunge his blade into Madox. But my Pandora is too quick for him. And now he’s got a pissed-off Contender joining the fight.
I leap on the guy’s back and dig my fingers into his eyes. The guy howls with pain. My attack ends early when a pair of hands wraps around my waist and throws me to the ground. The guy who assaulted me hurdles over my body and chases after Madox. Everywhere I look, the same thing is happening. Titus is trying to slaughter Braun’s Pandora, and Braun is trying to fight him off. Two more guys are crawling after Madox — one on his hands and knees with bloodied feet, and another on two legs. A fifth guy is scurrying after the raccoon, and the last person is wrestling with Ransom over G-6.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I grab on to a guy’s arm and wrestle him for the knife. There is a moment, as I’m fighting for the blade, when I remember that I own a green, rhinestone-encrusted hoodie that says GIRLS DON’T FIGHT. THEY FLAUNT. I’m wondering if it’s still in my closet when the guy pops me in the side of the head.
The world goes blurry.
When I clear my eyes, I notice Ransom has beaten back his attacker. He has one hand around the rope attached to G-6 and his raccoon by his side. All three look ready to retreat. But there’s a problem.
Me.
Ransom tilts his head and a pained look crosses his face. I know what he’s thinking. He came to rescue his brother’s Pandora. After that, he’s here for his sister. He also knows if he stays, he’s sacrificing his sister. The girl who loves her boyfriend and mood rings and hard-to-find mint cases. And her brothers. One of whom is dead.
“Go,” I say. When Ransom doesn’t budge, I scream so loud, my throat burns. “Go! Get away from me!”
He takes a few steps back, but looks confused.
“God, Ransom. Get the hell away!” I yell with conviction. Like I’ve got a plan that doesn’t involve him. “You’re screwing everything up. Go!”
Something seems to click inside his head. He turns and races into the desert. The guys move to go after him, but I throw myself in their paths. I punch groins and bite into arms and grab ahold of legs and don’t let go. I do anything I can to slow them down. And they, in turn, grace me with heavy blows. But not too heavy, because Titus is watching.
“Stop,” Long Legs says. “That punk is gone. He’s gone.”
“Could’ve predicted that.” Titus brushes off his shirt, unruffled. “That’s what happens when there’s no structure.” He looks at his crew. “Complete idiots.”
“The woman said we have to —” someone begins.
“I know what she said,” Titus interrupts.
Long Legs looks at Madox, his lips curled back. “I’m going to get the shape changer. The rest of you do another one.”
“I don’t think so,” another guys barks. “We’re not going to fight each other while you wrestle with the girl.”
“I should get the shape changer,” someone else says. “I always take the smallest portion of food. I complain the least. I’m owed this.”