The dying started halfway through their shift.
Rowena had instructions to pretend things were normal until the last second, but when their supervisor keeled over and frothed from the mouth, it must mean ‘operation poison’ had succeeded. Some prisoners panicked; a few tried to help. Kani slipped from her stool and hurried out in the confusion. After a short delay, Rowena did the same and Slay followed.
The three of them cut through the chaos and the crowd, making for the rally point. Soon, the bells that once ruled their lives would be used for another purpose, signaling the attack on the remaining guards, those who had missed breakfast for some reason.
On the way, they armed up, snatching weapons from guards who were twitching in public areas. Maybe their bodies would go into the furnace and feed the mushrooms, justice for all the prisoners who unjustly suffered that same fate.
Straight away, she spotted Hettie and most of the comfort workers. Many already had weapons, likely taken from the guards. Nearly everyone could shift, but on Chantisse’s orders they were saving their strength. Most were weak and malnourished; they would need that extra power when they took the upper tiers.
“How are things?” Rowena asked Hettie, avoiding the hug.
“Here or above?” the other woman asked.
Ro gave her a measured look. “Both.”
“Last I heard from our spies in the guard ranks, there was a pitched battle outside. Prince Alastor liberated the penal farms and the freemen joined him in the march on Golgerra.”
“No news since?” she guessed.
Hettie shook her head. “Here, everything seems to be going according to plan so far.”
Unease crawled down Ro’s spine as she remembered the look in the tyrant’s eyes. “Don’t celebrate too soon. That’s the recipe for everything to go wrong.”
Kani edged closer to Slay, drawing an amused smile from Rowena. Ever since he’d startled Kani by trying to save her, she’d shown signs of developing a serious case of hero worship, a phenomenon Rowena understood intimately. She had no idea what she’d say when she saw Prince Alastor again.
Will he expect me to return to his service as if nothing has changed?
Probably not, as he’d promised the freedom to choose to anyone who followed him. That must include the Exiles. Still, she wondered, for sometimes in the back of her mind, she envisioned a future with Slay. That might be assuming entirely too much.
But there were more important matters to resolve first.
As word spread among the prisoners, a few volunteers showed up, eager for payback. Hopefully, those who didn’t want to fight would find a secure place to hide, though soon, safety would be relative.
Just then, Chantisse tolled the bell in sequence, signaling the start of the attack. The beginning of the end? One way or another.
And Slay snarled, “Fucking yes. Finally.”
The larger force moved out in groups with Kani and Nolen sticking with Rowena and Slay. She felt a little better about that, as the two were truly too young to be mixed up in this. Their ages hadn’t kept them from being forced to work, however, and she had no right to forbid them from doing as they wished.
Two guards came at them, pale-faced and sickly. They must’ve eaten only small portions, not enough to incapacitate or kill them. Slay stepped smoothly into their path, and he shocked one with the electric prods they used on prisoners. Rowena stunned the other, then Kani and Nolen cut their throats with homemade shivs. Their enemies fell, still jerking in response to the current. The smell of blood pooled behind them but Slay didn’t look back. Neither did Rowena. Already in motion, Slay led their patrol with a deadly ferocity she found ridiculously alluring.
There was no doubt in Ro’s mind that he’d kill to protect her. Her own people had a well-deserved reputation for brutality, but cat shifters brought an elegant sort of violence to the mix.
“Good work,” he said to the young warriors. He didn’t look at Kani or Nolen as he praised them, still scanning for hostiles. “Ro, watch our six.”
“On it,” she answered.
Without rehearsal, they fell in as a unit with Slay on point, Nolen and Kani in the middle, and Rowena guarding their backs. She wished she had the juice to go airborne. Recon would be easier that way, but she’d also be painting a target on her back while burning precious energy she might need later.
One day I’ll be able to fly whenever I want. Nobody starving me, nobody clipping my wings, or telling me what to do.
At least the guards used non-lethal weapons on the prison populace. That meant they weren’t facing enemies with guns. They killed a few more weakened opponents, and then Slay paused, holding up a hand as he listened to something that wasn’t perceptible to the rest.
“Major fighting ahead. Get ready,” he cautioned.
Rowena nodded, squaring her shoulders. She was a veteran if not an Elite, and she’d survived the bombing at Ash Valley, the assault on the hold afterward, and Battle of Hallowell. Becoming a POW interrupted her life as a soldier in the prince’s personal retinue, but she wouldn’t stop fighting until Golgerra was free.
When they got closer, she too heard the clash of bodies, grunts and cries, and the din grew louder when they entered the fray. There was no elegant choreography, just a frenzied energy. The air stank of copper and desperation, low curses echoing. Rowena wheeled away from a knife, ducked around a prisoner wrestling a guard, and she assisted from behind, smashing her elbow into the watchman’s kidney. With sufficient force, it would lead to internal damage, bleeding that would kill him slowly.
They deserve to suffer.
Some of the guards had shifted, not a good scenario since they were better fed with fuel to burn. A few more burst into Gol forms, complete with scales and claws, demon horns and elongated spikes jutting from their spines. The nearest lashed with a barbed tail, and she leapt.
Wonder if the prods work through armored skin.
She tested the theory, jabbing the stunner into the shifted guard’s side. No effect.
Fuck.
Dodging a swipe, she tucked and rolled. Unlike most of the prisoners, she had some unarmed combat training to rely on, but without heavy weapons, it wouldn’t be easy to finish these bastards. She glanced at Slay, who seemed to have come to the same conclusion. The guards wouldn’t even need reinforcements if—
No.
This revolution couldn’t fail. Rowena would do whatever it took, even if it killed her. Before she’d hardly made the decision, she shifted, and it was a tough, shocking burn. She got liftoff above the fray, leaping into the air off a quadrupedal Gol’s back. He growled a curse at her in base Gol, but she only let out a triumphant call. Without ranged weapons, they couldn’t hurt her. But she would destroy them.
Ro snatched the smallest and carried him upward, all the way to the dizzying heights of the cavernous ceiling. Then she let go. Armored skin protected from penetration—claws, bites, and piercing weapons; it couldn’t do much to protect the bones from impact, from gravity. She was too far away to hear the thud, but the guard she dropped didn’t move again. Alight with eager energy, she dove again and grabbed the next in her powerful feet. This one struggled as she rose, trying to twist free and she absorbed the blows he rained on her lower body.
I’ll feel that later. Get splattered, you bastard.
Holy shit. Rowena is glorious.
Admiration rocketed to the front of Slay’s head, rising as she did. Her changed form was the perfect marriage of lethal and beautiful. The moment of distraction cost him, though. Slay took a claw in his shoulder, and he bled freely when he wrenched away, backpedaling furiously. If she’d shifted, the situation must be urgent.
Finally.
Snarling, he let go of the great cat and launched into motion, all ferocity as he tore through his ragged prison garb. His claws couldn’t breach the armored skin, but when Rowena raised one, he went for the soft spot underneath, ripping at the openings she gave him. Blood spurted into his mouth, earthier than Eldritch, but some of the same notes.
As a jaguar, he had way more agility and bounded through the battle wreaking havoc the way he’d pictured so many times. Slay fought the great cat for control, as the jag wanted to kill all these bastards, slaughter them all and get the hell out of here.
A changed Elite with enormous horns charged him and Slay leapt across his dorsal spines and sank his fangs into the back of his skull. Unlike many Animari cats, he could bite through bone, and the thicker hide of a changed Gol wasn’t that fucking dense. He clamped down with his jaws and crunched. It wasn’t a clean kill, but he held on through the thrashing while the Gol’s body got the message that he was dead, and then Slay bounded away.
Quickly, he checked on Ro but she was good, dealing death from above with delightful adroitness. Kani and Nolen fought as a team, but they were still using stunners and that shit wouldn’t work. He got between them and the brutal Elites trying to murder children and Slay battled hard on defense, until the kids were safe.
Five more.
Numbers were on their side now, though, and another prisoner shifted, adding to their advantage. Rowena’s aerial support played a pivotal role; she created opportunities and Slay took full advantage, shredding with his claws and locking on with a powerful bite.
She lifted one enough for him to sever the Achilles tendon and the big bastard went down hard, a ton of red, leathery skin and flailing talons. Slay took the wounds, pushing past the downed Gol’s defenses and he finished him with a bite to the skull. He spat a mouthful of bone and brain, wishing he could get the taste out of his mouth. A sharp, sudden pain in his flank shorted out his brain and then he lost the fight, all his higher thought went.
Instinct. Enemies.
The jaguar smelled nobody familiar. They were all strangers. They all needed to die. Feral, ferocious, he hunted and circled, tail lashing. Blood in the air, on his jaws, on his paws. The largest ones died beneath his teeth. Mindless violence engulfed him; growls and shrieks surrounded him until the instinct to kill became his entire existence. Pain was irrelevant, like the distant whine of an insect. The great cat could rest only when all these tormentors were dead.
Another bite, another kill.
Another.
When the greater threats vanished, the smaller ones encircled him. He showed his teeth, warning them that they were next. He lashed out with a paw when one of them came too close.
Kill. Quickly.
They scrambled, making sounds he didn’t understand. If they got in his way, he’d slaughter them on his way out. This place smelled revolting, and he couldn’t wait to fight his way clear. He raised his face, trying to get a hint of freshness, but there was no breeze. No natural odors at all, no other animals, no spoor, at least none he recognized. He turned, ready to make his escape, and something got in his way. The jaguar let out a vicious roar, the only warning he’d give. This thing wouldn’t take much to kill, small as it was. But…something about the smell plucked at him.
Who…?
The creature made sounds, repeated them in a soft tone. His ears rang with the echoes of other battles, a deep knocking in the earth, but nothing that was familiar. Anger grew, warring with the confusion. He swiped with his claws, and the thing jumped back, still urgently making noise, reaching for him despite his rage and confusion.
“Slay.”
That name he recognized.
“Slay, it’s Ro.”
Suddenly, he remembered everything he’d forgotten, and he fell forward, sliding out of jaguar form, naked and bloody and trembling.
I almost hurt her. Almost hurt them all. I’m supposed to be on their side.
Slay gasped for breath, fighting the sickness roiling in his gut. He was covered in blood spatter with bone shards still gritty in his teeth, the taste of Golgoth brain lingering on his palate. It took all his self-control not to hurl in front of Kani and Nolen.
With careful hands, Rowena reached for him, steadying him. She stroked the sweaty hair away from his forehead with careful fingers. “You okay? The fight’s not over yet.”
“You were amazing,” Kani said in a small voice.
Bullshit. I nearly murdered everyone.
This was exactly what Pru had feared from Dom, a grieving leopard left to his own devices for so long. Going feral was a real danger, one Slay had exposed Pru to without a second thought. And she couldn’t even shift. Guilt rushed in, filling up the hollow spaces.
She was right to leave me.
Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back, breathing in deeply through his nose, exhaling with his mouth. His breath smelled fucking rancid, a hazard of combat that could usually be rectified with some mouthwash, clean water, and a toothbrush. He had none of those.
Finally, he mustered the strength to answer, his voice still guttural and rasping. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for bringing me back.”
“My pleasure.” She squeezed his shoulder, and more of the tension dissolved.
If he could hold her, he’d feel better, but he doubted the rest of the resistance would understand. Hell, Rowena’s voice and her scent had pulled him back from the brink. Sometimes when the animal took over, there was no going back, especially when the other side had been stressed, subjected to extreme duress.
When I shift next, will it happen again?
Fuck, his brain barely stayed ahead of his mouth at the best of times. At least he suspected that was true; otherwise, why did he struggle so much with bad decisions or fail to spot potential problems? In general, Slay never knew he’d fucked up until it was too late to fix it.
While he strove to get some control back, Rowena stepped into his space, seeming to know, somehow, that her scent calmed him. Then she took it a step further and slipped her arms around his waist. There it was, the hug he’d wanted but didn’t dare ask for. Nobody seemed to think it was odd as the others checked each other’s wounds. Nolen was doing some first aid while Kani tore bandages. The Gols didn’t heal like Animari, presenting a different set of problems after a battle.
Slowly he completed the embrace, trying to keep from freaking her out. But Ro wasn’t scared of him anymore, it seemed—even though he’d almost mauled her as a jaguar. She smelled of warmth and home, nestled in his arms, not even a whisper of discomfort, let alone fear.
“I could’ve hurt you,” he muttered.
Her response came with flattering swiftness. “You were confused, that’s all. But I should warn you…the battle frenzy will hit when the fighting ends. You may not be able to resist.”
Slay blinked. “I might not?”
That didn’t even make sense.
“The Golgoth exude a certain…pheromone after a battle. I’m told it’s difficult to think. Just makes everyone want to fuck themselves boneless. I’ll try my best not to—”
“Ro,” Slay cut in, stifling a laugh. “I always want that with you. If it helps you work off stress, I’m there, consent requested and granted. So let’s finish the fighting.”
“So we can get to the fucking?” Her sultry smile just about melted him into a puddle.