The Hunt (The Cage 2)

Makayla put her hand over the microphone, muting it. “No worries.” Her voice dropped. “The other day it looked like Roshian decided to make you his new favorite. Glad I’m off the hook, but for your sake, I’m sorry.”

“I can handle him.”

But her thoughts were on Cassian, not Roshian, as she climbed onstage and watched him leave through the main door, speaking a few low words with Tessela. He glanced back once at her before leaving and gently pressed a hand to his heart. It makes me not want to give up either. Not just in my head, but also in my heart.

Cora cleared her throat. She started to sing a song she’d written in juvie about four walls and no sky, but changed her mind. She sang an old song instead, one Charlie used to listen to as he’d sneak off to the airstrip.

It was about soaring high and never looking down.

And the lyrics made her feel as powerful as Cassian’s words had. For the first time, she almost felt the thrill of being onstage that she’d always dreamed of. It didn’t matter that none of the Kindred guests were listening. Makayla was listening. Dane and Shoukry at the bar were listening.

And she was listening.

And for once, she believed her own words.

15

Mali

MALI’S DAILY SCHEDULE WAS always the same. Operate one of the safari trucks for the charade of hunting, ready the guests’ artificial rifles, help the other tour guides bag the catches. The only difference today was, when she showed up for work at the garage, Lucky was waiting for her.

“You are not supposed to leave backstage,” she said, confused.

“I couldn’t stand another minute cramped up in that room. I don’t know who smells worse, Pika or the animals. Dane gave permission. Said it was a good idea anyway to have someone else trained to drive.”

Mali raised an eyebrow. She had asked Dane to switch her job assignment from driver to rifle handler, once. He’d only laughed and told her she was lucky she wasn’t cleaning toilets. Apparently, Dane felt differently when it came to granting Lucky favors.

She jerked her head toward the truck. “You ride in the passenger’s side.”

They drove in silence to the far edge of the savanna with Jenny and Christopher bouncing along on the back bumper. The guest—Roshian—sat in the backseat. She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. Even uncloaked, he was always so eerily stiff. She had spent thirteen years living with the Kindred, so she knew how to be stiff too, but today her feelings were harder to mask, ever since seeing Leon a few days before, especially when he’d said, Friends, is that all? As though he had wanted something more. Not long ago, she wouldn’t have understood what he meant. But after having watched Cora and Lucky together, and Nok and Rolf, she understood.

It made her smile, just a little, deep inside.

She glanced at Lucky. He was gazing out at the plains, drumming his fingers on the side of the truck. Ever since she’d been around the other kids, she’d craved the ability to act like them—speaking so smoothly, laughing frequently—so human. She took one hand off the wheel and drummed her fingers on the side of the truck too. It felt good. Natural. But then her thoughts turned to what Leon had said about working with the Mosca. They were the ones who had taken her from Earth. She remembered being chained to a stake in a market, as the Mosca cackled and taunted her.

There were good and bad Kindred.

Good and bad humans.

But the Mosca . . . they were all rotten.

The vehicle jostled, and Christopher and Jenny clutched onto the back bumper, trying not to get jolted off. A low hiss came from the backseat.

“Focus on your driving,” Roshian ordered.

Mali put both hands back on the wheel. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Beside her, Lucky gave her a sympathetic smile.

Roshian returned to scanning the savanna. “There,” he said. “The hyena.”

Ahead, the track split. One track led to the single hill, the other to a watering hole where giraffes and antelope often clustered. Today, a skinny hyena lay panting in the shade of an acacia tree. One of its ears was a little shorter than the other.

Mali’s hands tightened on the wheel.

It was the hyena that slept in the cell next to hers. The one that would sometimes reach a paw through the bars to be scratched. She had nicknamed him Scavenger. She wished Roshian had picked any of the other animals, but she’d make up for it that night, and slip Scavenger an extra cake after he was revived.

“Hey, you okay?” Lucky asked.

“Yes. It is nothing. Get a carcass bag ready.” She nodded toward the glove box.

She continued driving to the end of the track, where the truck stopped automatically. Jenny and Christopher started readying the rifles. One was a compact model for close-range shots, the other a long-range scope.

Roshian stepped onto the parched soil, but he waved away the rifles that Christopher offered him. He strode twenty feet off, scanning the horizon, motioning for Christopher to stay close, as Jenny slid into the shade of the backseat.

Lucky unfolded a fresh canvas bag as they watched from behind the windshield.

“He’s so short,” Jenny whispered. “He has to be the smallest Kindred I’ve seen. I think he has a Napoleon complex.” Roshian beckoned toward the truck again, and Jenny sighed and opened the side door. “Probably wants a freaking parasol now.”

Once Mali and Lucky were alone in the truck, Mali asked, “What is a Napoleon complex.”

“When a short guy makes up for his lack of height by being a dick,” Lucky said.

Mali considered this. Dick. She’d have to remember that word. She tried to focus on cleaning the dust from her driving gloves, but her eyes kept creeping back to Roshian. He was arguing with Jenny, who looked displeased.

“Why do you wish to see the animals being shot,” Mali asked.

Lucky looked at her with surprise. “I didn’t come along because I wanted to see them shot. Backstage, all I ever see is the stunned animals. Bleeding, bruised messes. Or else cramped up in their cages at night. I wanted to see them differently, for once. Out in the open.” He paused. “Even if none of it’s real.”

Mali looked back at Scavenger. He licked a paw slowly.

“You care about the animals as much as you care for people,” she concluded.

He shrugged. “I’ll always care a lot about you guys, and, hell, even Leon. Even Dane. I’ve tried to help, where I can. I even thought I could lead, once.” He paused, squinting at the giraffes in the distance. “But it’s different with the animals. Who’s looking out for them? We’re all so focused on setting humanity free, but even if Cora beats the Gauntlet, it wouldn’t change anything for the animals. They don’t have a champion. They don’t have a chance to prove their worth.” He let out a sigh and started picking at some marks carved in the truck’s dashboard.

r /> Mali blinked at him. “You.”

“Me what?”

“You asked who is looking out for them,” she explained. “You are.” She paused, considering if she was using the correct tense. “You can.” And then reconsidered again. “You must.”

Lucky leaned back, as if he’d never quite considered this. Outside, Roshian and Jenny were still arguing. They called over Christopher, who rested his hands on his hips, shaking his head. They argued more, and at last Christopher gave in to whatever Roshian wanted. He came back to the vehicle and wordlessly dug through his expedition bag before returning to Roshian with a rifle.

“Why does Roshian want a different gun?” Lucky asked.

“I do not know. I do not recognize it from the armory. I think he brought it himself.” She glanced sidelong at Lucky. She didn’t need to tell him that was against the rules.

Ahead, Roshian cocked the rifle.

Jenny turned away, her face pinched.

Under the acacia tree, Scavenger had picked up their scent. Some of the animals, the newer ones especially, would run at first whiff of a predator. But Scavenger had been through this countless times before and just laid his head back down. Christopher picked up a dusty rock to rouse Scavenger into a run that would make things more sporting.

“No.” Roshian’s voice cut like a knife. “Leave it.”

“But it will be too easy to shoot—”

“Leave it.”

Christopher let the rock fall. He paced back to the vehicle, chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

Mali leaned out the driver’s-side window to ask him what was happening.

“Better if you don’t know,” Christopher said. “Trust me.”

Mali folded her arms tight, squinting into the sun. Last night, Scavenger had slipped a paw through the bars. She’d scratched his head, and his tail had wagged.