Miss Arfetta stalked before them, her boots solidly resounding with each step. “Those who are not graced with the powers of the Lady have difficulty understanding the miracles they witness, but I will not tolerate questions or interruptions. Nor will you gossip about what we do after the fact. I am here to work, not perform theatre. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Miss Arfetta,” answered Rivka and Tatiana, almost in concert. Behind Miss Arfetta, Broderick stood at the edge of the copper circle in the laboratory. He hunkered over, not meeting their eyes. All their effort to seek out the shop on the south island, to avoid a confrontation with Mr. Cody, and Broderick broached the subject for them. Tatiana and Rivka had been met at the freight door by a cadre of Mr. Cody’s guards. Mr. Cody had approved of their presence in the lab so long as they followed Miss Arfetta’s rules.
Mr. Cody didn’t do favors; he was like Mr. Stout in that way. Both men didn’t simply like wielding power; they liked accumulating it. Mr. Cody had hoped to befriend Tatiana in order to get some connection with her mother. Now Rivka wondered what he wanted of her—or Grandmother. Her publishing company was doing very well and was probably the largest press in Tamarania that he didn’t already control.
“Gentlemen!” said Miss Arfetta with a grand sweep of her arm. “Bring out the legs.” The liveried men went to large crates already open on the far side of the room.
Tatiana shifted in clear discomfort.
Rivka couldn’t resist sidling closer to the workmen to peer inside a box. These mechanical legs bent like the hindquarters of a horse and looked almost as tall as Rivka. The brass gleamed. The feet were broad, with three clawed toes and a rear dewclaw. She imagined it would grant a chimera more balance in the Arena, perhaps the ability to coil and jump. The massive joints certainly looked to have a lot of propulsion power.
“Back off, girl,” growled a man. She glanced up. Unlike the others, this fellow wore a workingman’s suit in gray, his wiry beard bushy. He glowered beneath thick, cigar-like brows.
“Oh! You’re the mechanist.” She kept her voice low to not attract Miss Arfetta’s attention, excited as she was to meet a master craftsman. “I’d love to know what alloy—”
“Don’t pretend to know what you’re talking about. I don’t have time for this.”
That got her dander up. “I might be a woman, but—”
“What do I care for that? My daughter’s my apprentice.” He shook his head. “You, you’re Caskentian. This job requires math, reading. I’m no schoolteacher. Leave my things be, or I’ll make sure you’re not in the laboratory at all.”
Furious, embarrassed, she returned to Tatiana’s side. She had the sudden urge to prove herself to this mechanist and was at an utter loss. She couldn’t take the risk that they’d be banned from the laboratory. Helping gremlins was much more important than her pride.
Rivka looked to Lump in the middle of the circle. He was chained in place so that he lay on his right side. The topmost leg nub had been bound against his torso. A thick purple tongue draped from his mouth, his eyes shut. Broderick must have drugged him before they arrived.
What good could Rivka do here? She didn’t have any magic. Like Broderick had said, this process couldn’t be stopped partway. That was no life for a creature.
It took a team of about a dozen men to carry over the leg. The burly fellows were grunting and red-faced by the time they rested it on the ground to almost touch the green-fleshed body. Miss Arfetta and Broderick bustled about to ready a cart of herbs. The mechanist supervised all, arms crossed over his chest, scowl sharp as a knife’s edge.
Rivka looked his way with frustration and yearning. What wonders were hidden in his tools? Did he have a model for reference? The schematics for this project? All treasures denied to her, and maybe not just for today. Would any mechanist in Tamarania accept her as an apprentice? Even if her lip were mended, there was still her accent, her background. If she had no place here, then where? Certainly not Caskentia.
Miss Arfetta touched the copper circle, and a wave of heat glanced over Rivka’s skin even at her distance. Broderick wheeled the cart across the boundary. Miss Arfetta picked up an oversized scalpel.
“We must expose the nerve endings to attach the connector cap.” Miss Arfetta turned.
Tatiana emitted a small squeak.
Broderick glanced their way, his expression apologetic. The cart and Miss Arfetta’s back blocked most of their view, but Rivka couldn’t miss the quiver that passed over Lump’s flesh as Miss Arfetta made her first cut. Bile rose in Rivka’s throat, and she stepped back.
“Don’t. Go.” Tatiana said it through gritted teeth.
“I can’t watch them torture him. Lump felt that, did you see?”
“She’s trying to drive us away. She is making this into theatre.”
“I just . . . I . . .” Rivka had no magic. No power. No knowledge, no insight into the craft to help Lump and prevent his suffering. “I’m going to the gremlin room,” she whispered, the words like gravel in her throat.
Gremlins welcomed her with mewing and flapping. She paced circles around the large table in the center of the room, anger fueling her long strides. What was she doing here? What did she really hope to achieve? Not like this room provided any respite. All those colorful flags were countdowns to doom.
She was so damned sick of feeling helpless. She hadn’t been able to do anything to save Mama. If Rivka hadn’t been so dense, maybe she could have prevented her death and the deaths of so many others in the tenement. Then there was Mr. Stout, those horrible months running his bakery. She couldn’t leave him. She knew what became of homeless young women in Caskentia.
Her furious pace slowed. That’s why she couldn’t simply bury herself in work on her gadgets, as she had before the party. She looked at gremlins and saw misunderstood beings like herself.
She approached a cage, clucking her tongue to soothe them and herself. “Do you know Miss Octavia Leander?” The gremlin’s long ears perked up, just as Lump’s had. “Miss Leander is my friend, too. It seems like most everyone knows her.”
The gremlin squawked and rubbed its face against the bars. Rivka laughed and scratched the wrinkles right between the ears. It leaned harder into her touch. The skin of this one lacked any seams. It was a born gremlin, one of the newer generation. Not that it made them any less repulsive to people.
Both its wings were gone, and judging by the bandages girthing its shoulders, it was recent. Fortunately, this one had a separate set of arms. She looked to the next cage. The gremlin there was shy, pressed against the back wall, granting her a clear view of its empty back. Both cages had red flags. Both gremlins lacked wings.
Broderick had said the wings for Lump were just about done. They’d be grafted after the metal legs.
Lump was made of the flesh of living animals.
Lump had such a large body, one that she could only assume had a heart, lungs, and all the body parts any person needed to survive. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of gremlins would have been required. How many more were needed? Were other animals sacrificed, too?
Lump’s current pain had overwhelmed her with its cruelty, but in truth it had been multiplied beyond count.
Rivka trailed her hand along the bars. Gremlins mewed, those with hands touching her as she passed. This sordid cycle of creation needed to end. She was going to find a way, magic or not. Apprenticeship or not.
She proceeded into the laboratory. Mr. Cody had joined Tatiana.
“Well! Good to see you again, young mechanist,” said Mr. Cody. His thumbs were tucked into the pockets of a red-velvet greatcoat. “Were you visiting my little gremlins?”
She sucked in a breath. That’s why he let her be here. Before, he had made it clear he knew about the one-man band she fixed at his party. She had impressed him with her skills. Was that a good or bad thing?
“Yes,” said Rivka. She glanced at the circle. Miss Arfetta was sprawled on the floor, her skirts edged high to reveal thick layers of lace. The mechanist stooped over her, a large wrench in hand as he twiddled with a massive mechanical knee. Broderick stood to one side, taking in everything, fidgeting with his hands at his back.
“I was just telling Mr. Cody that the latest news says three other Arena teams are starting work on behemoth chimeras. Isn’t that fascinating?” Tatiana ended with a guileless smile.
“Yes, well.” Mr. Cody didn’t look quite as pleased. “They’ll try, but so many Tamarans are leery of magic and its full potential. They want the grand results, the glorious entertainment, but they haven’t spent decades on smaller chimeras as I have, or studied medician lore.”
Rivka’s mind raced as she took all this in. “You’re saying that everything you do to gremlins, they’ll do worse?” Tatiana rested a hand on Rivka’s back, just beneath her hair.
Mr. Cody gave her a mournful nod. “Shoddy workmanship, dreadful results. Mind you, my own efforts have included plenty of failures, but as a scientist, my methods follow certain standards and procedures.”
She balled her fists at her hips. “You have standards? What about the little gremlins? What about—” A sudden, hard tug on her hair stopped her diatribe.
Tatiana cast her an innocent smile. “Right now I’m wondering about this chimera that’s being made, and the one you had in the Arena before. Chi, I think Alonzo called it?”
“Yes. Chi.” Mr. Cody shook his head in disgust.
“Chi succeeded in the Arena because of the strong bond he formed with Alonzo and Miss Leander, right?”
Rivka opened her mouth. Her hair was jerked again. What the hell was Tatiana up to? Rivka silently fumed. She didn’t want to shove back or cause a scene. She had to trust that Tatiana knew what she was doing.
“Yes. I wish I hadn’t lost that one so quickly. I could have learned so much.” Mr. Cody shot Tatiana a withering glare; he clearly had not completely forgiven her for her role in Chi’s loss. “It was a peculiar thing. Gremlins actually gossiped about Miss Leander, spoke of her as a friend. Your brother seemed to be well regarded by association.”
“Spoke of her?” Rivka echoed.
“My very first gremlins have human voice boxes. Few of them are left, but they often act as translators, representatives.”
Human voice boxes. Rivka felt ill.
“How do you plan to do things differently for this behemoth chimera, then?” asked Tatiana. Her hand slipped from Rivka’s back. “It looks somewhat different than Chi. Lighter, maybe faster. And now maybe it’ll go up against other chimera gladiatorial teams.”
“Ah, you’re trying to sell me something. Do go on, I like your technique.”
“What are you doing?” Rivka whispered.
Tatiana kept her intent gaze on Mr. Cody. “I want to be the jockey.”
“What?” Mr. Cody guffawed. “You?”
Blood rushed to Rivka’s head, her fists balling at her hips. “You can’t, Tatiana. That wasn’t . . . you said . . .”
“I said?” Tatiana glanced at her long enough to roll her eyes.
Rivka was speechless at the betrayal. Tatiana had planned this from the start. All her hints about the laboratory and what it might contain. She had never cared about saving the gremlins. This was all about the glory of riding in the Arena.
“Miss Garret, have you piloted anything? Or driven anything, like a cabriolet or an automated cycle?”
“No. But I can do it.”
“That medician, Miss Leander, put this idea in your head, didn’t she? You, a jockey. Balderdash.”
In the circle, Lump’s torso heaved with breaths. Miss Arfetta and the mechanist continued the procedure.
“Alonzo rode your other chimera to great success. And you knew my father as an elite pilot, too,” said Tatiana. “Some of the mecha pilots are my age. I’m lighter than they are.”
Mr. Cody’s smile was thin. “You’ve done some research on this subject, my dear.”
Enough was enough. Rivka forced herself from numbness and took several steps away from Tatiana. “Mr. Cody, what if you stop your experimentation once Lump’s body is complete? What if he doesn’t go in the Arena at all?”
Tatiana emitted a squawk of protest. Rivka silenced her with a glare.
“Pardon, but did you say ‘Lump?’ Did you name my wondrous chimera Lump?” asked Mr. Cody.
Rivka pointed to the room behind her. “Those caged gremlins are missing body parts so you can piece together your ‘wondrous chimera.’ They are alive and suffering. They can’t fly. Some don’t even have arms.”
Broderick, Miss Arfetta, and all the men in the room stared.
Mr. Cody’s manner shifted. “Medicians can’t work with the dead. It makes it especially tricky to move internal organs. Timing and temperature must be just right. Did you know electricity can be used to restart hearts and motivate blood flow? We fuse magic and science to create something extraordinary.”
“You’re doing this to make a spectacle, to entertain people in the Arena. It’s cruel.”
“Life is cruel. Science studies the elements of life. It can’t help but be cruel.” Mr. Cody shook his head. “I didn’t expect an urchin from Mercia to be soft as gelatin. You’re like those theatre raggers from a few years ago, rallying to save horses. You don’t see the big picture. My Arena bouts are important to people. They bring welcome distractions. Happiness.”
Of course. Mr. Cody needed to appear as the benevolent august and distract people with his machinations. The opinion of the people was everything. It’s how he stayed in office, earned his wealth.
“Mr. Cody!” Miss Arfetta strode toward the copper circle. Lump’s first leg appeared to be attached to his body now. “This interruption is outrageous. We’re in the midst of an operation.” Her black-gloved hands were glossy. Miss Arfetta’s gaze shifted to focus directly on Rivka’s harelip, her own lip curled in contempt.
“Do you want this beast to suffer? To die?” Miss Arfetta asked. “It’s bleeding as I talk to you. You should thank whatever you hold holy that you have no magic, that you cannot hear the suffering in its song right now.”
“Then go help him!” Rivka snarled. “You’re choosing to stand there. How can you call yourself a medician, make money off doing that?”
“Mr. Cody, I won’t work in her presence.” Miss Arfetta folded her arms and continued to stare.
Lump couldn’t suffer more, not because of her. Rivka turned away. “I will go. For Lump’s sake.” She managed to keep her voice cool and even. Her steps were controlled and precise, her chin held high; she almost burst out in hysterical laughter at that thought. Wouldn’t Grandmother be proud to see her now?
Compared to Mr. Stout, Mr. Cody and Miss Arfetta were nothing. Rivka refused to cower before them.
She bypassed the gremlin room. It was only when she was far down the hall that she began to jog as fast as her tight Tamaran skirt allowed. Her eyes burned with checked tears. She punched the buttons at the lift. Footsteps raced behind her. She tensed, ready to confront Tatiana, ready to scream and rage. Instead, it was one of Cody’s men.
“I’ll operate the lift, miss,” he said, panting. He didn’t meet her eye. She wondered if it was because of her harelip or her tears. “Where do you want to go?”
She thought of home. Her old home, before she met Miss Leander or Mr. Stout. The high towers of Mercia, with their rickety catwalks and tramways between buildings, the skyline forested with billowing smokestacks and foul gray skies. Her building, its paint peeling, furnaces cranky, the glowstone lights in the hallways so ancient that their enchantments scarcely worked at all. Her kitchen, perfumed with yeast and sugar.
“The roof. I need air,” Rivka said, the words hoarse and slurred.
At the top, the cage doors opened to a brightly lit hall.
“Go left and up the stairs to the access door,” he said.
Rivka barely noticed her surroundings as she followed his directions. She opened the door to find yet another stairwell. Wind nipped through the wooden slats and reminded her that she hadn’t spared the time to grab her hat and coat. Birds rattled in the darkness of the eaves.
The view from the roof was far different from anything she had known in the high-rises of Mercia. Both cities had towers and compact populations, but here buildings were not quite so compressed, or stained dark by coal coke. Gray clouds thickened the sky, the faint taste of rain on the air. Four black-steel mooring towers were spaced along the roof, none of them occupied by airships.
She leaned on the icy railing. Mr. Cody lived on the famed plaza of Tamarania. The Arena was just next door—a lower, squat building with a magnificent stained-glass dome. It had mooring towers as well. A crane loaded goods onto a fat airship.
Things clattered and fluttered around her. Rivka jerked back. A gremlin—no, several gremlins—landed on the railing feet away. More sounds made her turn around. The shanty of the stairwell had a roof lined with green bodies. She hadn’t heard birds in the eaves, but gremlins.
“Does Mr. Cody come here to capture your kin?” she asked, her voice choked again. “You shouldn’t let him grab you. You should fight back. You don’t know what he’s doing.” A gremlin hopped closer, its black nose twitching. “Or maybe you do,” she added softly.
Rivka braced herself against the railing. Directly confronting Mr. Cody had done nothing. What would make the man realize that he wasn’t simply building metal constructs like a mechanist did but living creatures? Even Tatiana intended to use Lump for her own pride and glory. Could Rivka persuade anyone that gremlins weren’t tools to use and discard?
The wind dried tears on her cheeks, stiffened her skin. She barely flinched as a gremlin landed on her shoulder. Then another. One perched atop her head, its feet struggling for purchase in her hair. Her sob turned into a giggle.
Then, with a mad flutter, they took to the air. Rivka heard a throat clear behind her.
Broderick stood there, long and lanky in his white medician garb. “I—you don’t mind if I join you?”
She turned away. “What, don’t you have work to do?”
He snorted. “You saw how much actual magic I get to do. I set things up, then stand there. I happened to knock over the mechanist’s wrenches just now. Miss Arfetta ordered me away, full of reminders that I’m a terrible apprentice, that I’ll never be a full medician.” He leaned on the railing where the gremlins had been a moment before.
“You shouldn’t believe her.”
“Oh, I don’t, most of the time. She’s a leaky gasbag, never pleased with anyone. You should see her go shopping. She makes clerks cry.” He gazed out on the plaza. His hair, done in a hundred tight braids with metal beads, chimed softly beneath the wind. “I know I’m not a good medician. Not simply because of the lack of practice but because the work she does ask of me, it’s . . . bad.”
Rivka stilled. “She has you do the dirty work. You’re the one who harvests from the gremlins and eventually kills them.”
He flinched, not meeting her eye. “They’re not human, but they’re alive. I can hear the life in them, the way it fractures with each limb, each wing. Did you know an arm by itself in a circle still sings for a while?”
Horror silenced her. He shifted uneasily, and Rivka realized she should speak. “I didn’t know that. The only medician I’ve been around is Miss Leander, and she was . . . different. She could hear body songs without a circle.”
“I would go mad,” Broderick whispered.
Rivka stared out at the city. “The color tags denote what stage the gremlins are in, right? The ones missing wings are labeled red today . . .”
“Blue means they are new and need a full examination. Green designates that’s done, they are healthy, and I can proceed.” His voice sounded empty. “Red notes the primary harvest is done. Yellow means I need to do a final culling. Organs and skin. If a cage has that tag, I need to finish the task as soon as possible.”
Rivka tasted bile. “The gremlins in the cart were considered yellow, then?”
The gremlin who clutched her fingers the other day had been so alive, and she had wiggled free of its grip and abandoned it there. She had assumed the medicians knew best.
She was an idiot.
“You saw the cart?” asked Broderick. “Of course you did. Yes. It preserves them for the evening’s work. Miss Arfetta wants to keep a lot of skin ready in anticipation of Arena injuries. That’s going to be my major duty once Lump’s attachments are done.”
“Your major duty. You’re going to kill all of them?”
“If they’ve contributed any parts, yes. It’s more . . . merciful than releasing them. I’m trying . . . you see . . .” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “There’s a group that fights against gremlin abuse. Not a very popular cause around here. I get some gremlins to them, but they don’t have much money or enough space. And I can never sneak out enough of them. There are so many that . . .” He seemed to lose the ability to speak.
“I guess you expect me to ask how you can stand it since you know what you’re doing is wrong.” Rivka stared into her hands. Her fingers had turned ruddy with cold, but she welcomed the brisk air. “I’m not going to judge you like that. I know you hate it. I know you hate yourself.”
“But I keep doing it.” His laugh was choked. “I can’t even figure out why. It’s not even for money.”
“No. It’s never that straightforward. I understand that much. You’re not the only one who’s stained, Broderick.”
She caught his steady sidelong glance. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“I can. I think you’d understand more than anyone. More than Grandmother, even.” Over the sprawl of the city, distant airships almost blended in with the clouds. “About the time of armistice last year, a man moved onto our tenement roof. He was badly scarred on his face and wore a mask. We all took to calling him Pigeon Man because he lived up with the birds. He came down to our flat most every day to buy bread from Mama.”
Pigeon Man never said his true name. He never acted like he’d known Mama so many years before. He and Mama would have been so young back then—younger than Rivka was now. And the war had changed him. Those changes seeped far deeper than the burns across his face.
“Pigeon Man told me he wanted me to construct something for him. He had to gather the parts first. Weeks later, I was out on rounds when our building caught fire. Mama . . . hundreds of others . . .”
She drew quiet. Broderick said nothing. Even the wind slowed down to listen.
“Pigeon Man found me near the wreckage. He said he didn’t think the materials would be that volatile on their own.” Seeing Broderick’s confusion, she continued, “I didn’t know until then that what he wanted me to make was a bomb. He had stored the components on the roof.”
“You didn’t cause it, then. You hadn’t done a thing!”
“I know that. Most of the time,” she said, purposefully echoing his words. “Pigeon Man never acted sorry for what had happened. More . . . inconvenienced. Out of nowhere, he offered me a bakery to manage. He’d just won it by betting on a game of Warriors. I said yes, because it had always been Mama’s dream to have a shop of her own and not work out of the flat. Besides, where else could I go?”
She couldn’t say more, and not simply because of the tightness in her throat, or that the cold had shifted from being brisk to being painful. She couldn’t describe the months after, her numbness, his sneers, the beatings, the horror at finding out Pigeon Man—Devin Stout—was actually her blood father.
Rivka and Broderick stared out on Tamarania City. The roundabout below was packed with steam cars and automated cycles, and few horses and wagons. Mr. Cody had said something about Rivka sounding like people who had worked to save horses. She wondered what he meant.
Miss Leander had saved Rivka from Mr. Stout. Now Rivka needed to save Lump and the other gremlins in turn. It was only right.
She looked at Broderick. “What Tatiana was saying yesterday, about Miss Leander helping with your training. I know Miss Leander, too. I think she would help you, if possible, but Tatiana can’t make any guarantee. She uses people. She used me, us, from the very start so she could find some way to become a jockey.” The words tasted foul in her mouth.
“I understand.” Broderick slowly nodded. “I appreciate your honesty. I envy you, your strength. The way you stood up to Mr. Cody.”
She said nothing. “You’re not strong, rabbit. Just a weakling, ugly girl. Leave such work for men.”
“No one stands up to Miss Arfetta or Mr. Cody,” continued Broderick. “You did.”
“There you two are!” Tatiana’s high voice rang out. Rivka spun around. Tatiana stalked toward them. “Rivka, you need to come back downstairs. That chimera—Lump—is awake and he’s growling if I step near the circle—”
“Good. You shouldn’t be near him, and you certainly shouldn’t ride him,” snapped Rivka. “That was your plan from the start, wasn’t it? You never cared about saving the gremlins. It was all about your being a gallant mecha jockey like your brother.”
Tatiana recoiled as if struck. “I wanted to be a jockey, yes, but I care about the gremlins. Riding on Lump is part of the grand plan to save them!”
“Then please, share this grand plan,” said Rivka.
“People need to see chimeras in a different way, as something more than monsters. They only know gremlins for stealing silver and food. They can cheer for Lump!”
Broderick shook his head. “People may cheer, but they cheer for the all-metal mechanical beasts out there, too. If Lump is injured, they’ll cheer even louder. It’s all entertainment.”
Public opinion mattered. Rivka might not be able to convince Mr. Cody and Miss Arfetta of their wrongness, but what if her voice was one of a multitude?
“How can we get people to understand that chimeras aren’t really monsters?” she slowly asked.
“But they are monsters. Don’t look at me like that.” Broderick held up his hands. “I’m not saying they deserve this treatment. You know I don’t believe that. But behemoth chimeras are made to be both vicious and intelligent. The first big chimera killed and injured scads of men. Every time I go inside that circle these days, I wonder if I’m next.”
“See, Rivka? That’s why I need your help!” said Tatiana.
“Why do you say that?” Broderick asked, looking between them.
Rivka shrugged, a bit embarrassed by her own initial idiocy. “The first day we found the laboratory, I walked right up to Lump and petted him. He purred.”
“Really?” His expression brightened. “No snapping, no lunging? That’s curious. That doesn’t mean you can let down your guard, though.”
“So it’s a good thing we’ll have a medician with us, isn’t it?” Tatiana smiled at him. He didn’t smile back.
“I still don’t see how riding him in the Arena will help,” said Rivka.
“We’ll figure that out.” Tatiana flicked her wrist as she turned toward the stairs.
“No.” Rivka lunged to grab her by the shoulder. “You’re not going to dismiss the issue like that. This isn’t about you, Tatiana. This is about Lump and the other gremlins. If you ride Lump in the Arena, we give Mr. Cody exactly what he wants. For him, it would make the deaths of the little gremlins worthwhile. Plus, it encourages more scientists to do the same awful thing.”
“Wait,” said Broderick, “Mr. Cody might not be the only one who gets what he wants from this. If you two really can work with Lump to get him Arena-ready, that plays into what you need, too: continued access over these next few weeks. It gives you more time.”
“There’s a problem with that,” said Rivka. “Miss Arfetta gave me the chuck.”
Tatiana grinned. “Miss Arfetta left already. Mr. Cody doesn’t mind if you’re in there, he said so before he departed. He thinks it’d do you good to see the mechanist’s limb construction up close before the shielding skin goes over it.”
Mr. Cody was setting out bait for Rivka despite all she said before. Why? What did he want from her? Could they really outmanipulate a politician of his caliber? “What if Miss Arfetta comes back?”
“If both legs are done, she won’t return today,” said Broderick. “She has a hair appointment this afternoon.” Rivka stared at him, hoping he was being facetious. He didn’t smile. “I’m the one who works down there much of the time, not her.”
“See? That awful woman is gone, so come help me! Let’s show Mr. Cody we can do this, and we’ll figure out our plan of attack from there.” Tatiana skipped toward the stairs. Rivka and Broderick followed her much more slowly.
“Damn her,” Rivka growled beneath her breath. The world continued to revolve around Tatiana Garret. The noise of the gremlins faded as they entered the interior stairwell.
Broderick lingered next to Rivka. “I know you mean well,” he said quietly. His words didn’t echo in the passage. “But you’re taking big risks here. I tranquilize the chimera if I work in close proximity. And . . . I’m not a full medician. If something happens . . .”
“If I’m stupid enough to get my arm ripped off, that’s my own fault. Will Lump be in a lot of pain right now?”
“Yes. And that could make him even more aggressive.” His brow furrowed. “Chimeras, even the little ones, lead hard lives. Their bodies fight against their mishmash of parts. Organ failure and tumors are common. Chimeras like Lump are so much more in every way, and injuries are inevitable in the Arena, too.” He sighed. “Death is the only way to truly stop a chimera’s pain.”