Run, it was saying, with lips that were never meant for human speech. Run.
Even in a secret base, a black woman carrying a mop was effectively invisible. The patrolling soldiers didn’t give her so much as a second glance.
Rose kept her head down and her stride brisk, as though on an urgent errand. She prayed that the trailing hems of the too-big janitor’s uniform would hide her bare feet. There hadn’t been any shoes in the supply cupboard.
The mate-call guided her unerringly across the compound, toward the large, ominous building at the very center. Its matte gray walls were sheer and featureless, completely without windows.
She hadn’t been able to guess what it was from the air. Now, after her encounter with the poor ocelot, she was horribly certain that she knew its purpose.
A prison.
And her mate was inside.
Two uniformed soldiers stood guard on either side of a narrow doorway, guns held low. The weapons were smaller and lighter than the ones she’d seen the perimeter guards carrying. As she drew nearer, she realized that they were tranquillizer guns. Each man had a pouch of darts at his hip, the feathered ends sticking up for easy access.
Both guards shot her disinterested glances as she stopped in front of them. Rose’s palms were slick with sweat. She licked her lips, trying to moisten her dry throat.
She hadn’t been able to come up with any plan for this part. She’d hope that sheer necessity would spark inspiration. Unfortunately, her mind had gone completely blank.
“What, you want us to hold the door open for you?” one of the soldiers said as she stood there in mute terror. He jerked his head, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Hurry up and do something about that mess in cell six. I can smell it from here.”
“Yes, sir,” Rose squeaked.
She quickly sidled through the doors, keeping her eyes downcast. The soldiers
didn’t even turn to watch her.
Maybe all the guards and guns weren’t to keep intruders out…but to keep the occupants in.
She hurried deeper into the building, her eyes struggling to adjust to the gloom. The wide, plain gray corridor was lit only by fluorescent tubes running along the ceiling. A steady, irritating throb of extractor fans hummed overhead, but the air still hung thick and lifeless. She wrinkled her nose at the pervasive, animal reek.
It was the smell of misery. Of creatures who had been penned up in the dark until they’d lost all pride, all hope, all sense of self.
It smelled like the ocelot had looked.
Despite the mate-call urging her on, Rose hesitated. The corridor was lined with thick, reinforced metal doors. From behind the nearest one came a steady click-click-click of claws on concrete. A large animal, a wolf or a bear, pacing in endless, mindless circles.
Rose tugged at the door, but it was locked. She couldn’t find a keyhole, or even any indication as to how it opened. Maybe it didn’t open. People who could make magic portals in mid-air probably didn’t need anything as mundane as a door handle.
She spread her hand futilely against the metal, hoping that the shifter inside could sense her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, as loudly as she dared. “I’ll come back, I promise. I’ll get help. Just hold on a little longer.”
The constant click-click-click never altered.
She lost count of the doors she passed as she headed deeper into the building. The rough concrete floor chilled her bare feet, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.
So many shifters imprisoned and tormented. And if she’d understood the two robed men earlier, this was all sanctioned by the U.S. military. By the government. How could they do this to their own people?
She took a deep breath, pushing down her sickened anger. She’d free her mate. Once they were free of this terrible place, they could expose it for what it was. There were secret shifter governments and countries all around the world. Surely someone would be able to put an end to this atrocity.
The mate-call pulled her through a door and down a staircase. There was another set of doors at the bottom. A double set, one after the other, like an airlock.
Ribbons of plastic sheeting hung down behind the final door. Pushing through them, Rose had a powerful memory of visiting the tropical house at the zoo as a child—ducking through heavy plastic curtains just like these, the surprise of leaving the cold outside and entering a warm, humid wonderland.
It was the opposite way round with these doors. Rose gasped as cold struck her in the face. Her breath steamed in the suddenly freezing air.
This room was tiled all in white, stark and sterile. Three other doors circled it, one per side. Each one was even more heavily reinforced than the doors she’d passed earlier. Thick steel bars ran across them, chained to rings set deep in the walls.
Rose’s heart leapt into her mouth as a deafening crash echoed through the small room, coming from behind the door to her left. It sounded for all the world like a bull had charged full-tilt into it.