“Not bad,” Rafe said.
I elbowed him in the ribs. “This isn’t a wrestling match.”
“It kinda is,” he pointed out.
The feral bounced up and crouched, his yellow eyes catching the light. Everson launched forward and shoved the creature back against the wall. He lifted his arm and the feral instinctively clamped down. Again, the burlap padding protected Everson’s flesh, but this time instead of pulling away, he wedged his arm in harder. The feral’s eyes grew wide as Everson jerked the creature’s head forward, only to slam it back into the wall.
Dazed, the feral couldn’t get his jaws off Everson’s padded forearm. Everson cracked the feral’s head again and again against the stone, brutally, until the feral slumped forward unconscious. Everson ripped his arm out of the feral’s slack jaws and stepped into the spotlight to look at the roof.
The guests clapped enthusiastically and a couple whistled their approval.
“He hasn’t passed yet, Omar,” the queen sneered.
Omar leaned over the low wall. “The test isn’t over until the feral is dead. Gut it.”
Everson threw down his baton. “I’m not killing an unconscious man.”
“What man?” the queen asked, looking genuinely perplexed.
“The hairy guy on the ground,” Rafe told her. “Human. Well, mostly.” The queen shot him an annoyed look. He held up his hands. “You asked.”
“Gut the feral,” Omar shouted as he pulled a gun from inside his jacket. “Or I will —”
With a snarl, the feral leapt up and charged at Everson with flashing claws and snapping jaws.
Everson dug into his apron pocket, pulled the knife, and met the feral head on, driving the point of the knife into his opponent’s gut. The feral roared, his fangs just inches from Everson’s throat. Everson threw back his head and plunged the knife in again. The feral’s claws caught Everson’s face, digging savagely into his flesh. Blood streamed down his cheeks. He thrust with all his strength and buried the knife in the feral’s stomach. They remained locked like that: Everson pressing the knife into the feral, the feral digging his claws into Everson’s face. With a growl the feral’s claws finally retracted and he sank to the ground — dead.
Everson collapsed by the feral’s body and covered his face with his hand.
“Now that’s more like it,” the queen gushed. Clapping and cheers erupted across the roof. “Very entertaining!” she called down to Everson.
Hate for her burst in me like a geyser. Couldn’t she see that he was devastated?
Omar holstered his gun. “He will take the test again every night until he guts the feral without hesitation.”
The evil man couldn’t have come up with a worse fate for Everson. To be forced into killing infected men night after night or get shot himself? We had to escape from this place before we all ended up insane or dead.
Dromo appeared before the queen and bowed low. “My queen —”
“What is it that can’t wait?” she snapped.
“The king has returned.”
The queen’s face became masklike and her cheeks lost their rosy flush. “Oh. That’s wonderful,” she said in a flat tone.
The woman was clearly scared to death of her husband, and given what I knew now, she should be.
She faced the crowd on the roof. “Everyone, I have good news.” The cheers and chatter cut out instantly. “The king has returned to the compound. You should all go to the ballroom on the second floor now. However, dinner will be delayed until the king joins us.”
As people shuffled toward the stairwell, the queen snagged Dromo’s sleeve. “What kind of mood —” She stopped herself, took a breath, and began again in a calmer tone. “Did he catch anything?”
“He must have. He’s in a very good mood,” Dromo said in a soothing voice.
The queen seemed to sag with relief. “I’ll see if he wants to join us for dinner.” She glanced at us. “Though he might be too tired.”
I hoped that he was beyond exhausted. I had no desire to ever meet the king of Chicago. As soon as the queen hurried off with Dromo, I turned to one of the handlers. “Can we go down to talk to the new handler? We want to congratulate him.”
“Absolutely not,” Omar said from behind me. “For the next two months, the only people he will see are other handlers. And of course, the manimals he trains.”
“Everson doesn’t even know we’re here,” I whispered to Rafe as we followed the crowd down to the second floor. “There’s no way he could have seen us with those floodlights in his eyes. We need to get him a message somehow.”
“Cosmo,” Rafe said.
“What? We don’t even know where he is.”
“I mean there’s Cosmo.” Rafe pointed down the hall.
Sure enough, our little friend was peering out at us from under a side table, his toy monkey clutched to his chest. As the guests headed into the ballroom, Rafe and I hurried over to him. I crouched in my gown. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said but then followed my gaze to his stranglehold on Jasper. He loosened his grip. “A-okay.”
Rafe hunkered beside me. “What are you doing here?”
“The handlers took Everson.”
“Cosmo, it’s too dangerous for you here,” I said. “If they catch you, they’ll put you back in the zoo.”
He put Jasper on top of his head as if to block out the image. “I have to get Everson out.”
Rafe scoffed. “How?”
“Through the basement, where the servants live,” Cosmo whispered. “The stairs by the pens go outside.”
“Huh,” Rafe said with surprise. “Good plan.”
“Did you find your mom?” I asked.
Cosmo shook his head. “She doesn’t live in the castle anymore. Nobody knows where she went.”
I slid my arm across his shoulders and hugged him close. “I’ll bet Dromo knows where she is. We’ll ask him.”
“Nothing much gets past that guy,” Rafe agreed. “Hey, where do the handlers go after an initiation test?”
“The mess hall.” Cosmo pointed to the floor. “By the kitchen.”
“Then that’s where Everson is.”
“Cosmo, can you get to him and tell him we’re here in the castle?” I asked. Rafe shot me a look but I kept my gaze on the little manimal. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We won’t be mad.”
“I’ll tell Everson,” he said confidently.
“What are you doing?” a voice behind us snapped. We looked up to see the handler who’d been outside our bedroom earlier. “You’re supposed to be in the ballroom.” Then he noticed Cosmo hunkered under the table. “Get out from there. And where’s your collar?” He grabbed a knob-topped baton from his apron pocket. “Next time you want a beat down, beast, just ask.”
Rafe sprang up, primed for a fight. “He’s with us.”
I rose as well and tucked Cosmo behind me.
“What do you mean with you?” the handler sneered. “You think the king is going to let a filthy manimal sit at his table? If he sees your monkey, he’ll slice its throat with a carving knife before you’ve even finished your curtsy.”
“We’re not taking him into dinner.” With a hand behind my back, I waved Cosmo away. “He’s going back to our room now.”
Cosmo took off running down the hall.
“See? Problem solved.” Rafe leveled the handler with a look that dared him to pursue it.
The man scowled. “Get to the ballroom.”
Moonlight streamed in from a huge skylight above. Wavery light came from candles placed throughout the enormous room. Bare-chested manimal waiters, wearing collars, kilts, and Rollerblades, made whizzing hairpin turns between the tables. A fox-man stopped short, nipple rings gleaming, and held out a tray of long-stemmed glasses brimming with sparkling wine.