He digs his paws into the ground and hunches forward. If he decides to pounce, we’re done for, but if I can call up One’s Legacy again, I might be able to shake things up enough to knock the wolf off his feet, giving me time to run for the protection of the guard station. It’s not the best plan ever, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
The water’s refreshed me a bit, but my head’s still throbbing. I’m swaying on my feet and my skin’s burning. Not the ideal circumstances to try to use the Legacy I don’t have a complete handle on yet.
But I concentrate as hard as I can and clench my hand into a fist. I raise it slowly and point it at the ground. There’s a soft rumble, and the earth below us stirs like a table that’s been bumped by accident. It’s something, but it’s not going to help much.
I’m surprised at how the wolf reacts: he gives a small yelp and backs away a step, eyeing me now with curiosity rather than anger. He tilts his head to one side like he’s trying to figure me out, and then slowly begins padding toward me. This time, he doesn’t growl. He almost looks friendly. Whatever I was expecting when I tried to nail him with my Legacy, this wasn’t it.
“Uh, hey there,” I say, trying to modulate my voice so that it’s soft and nonthreatening, holding out my upturned palms. No sudden movements.
He’s right in front of me now, studying me, sniffing me. A low whine is coming from his throat. I didn’t have a dog or any pets growing up—my father, the great general, didn’t see any value in pets that couldn’t do something useful—so I have no idea how to read this animal and no idea whether or not I should be running right now.
When he licks the palm of my left hand, though, I’m pretty sure it’s not the prelude to an attack.
“Good boy.” I reach out and, ever so slowly, pet him on the head. His fur is thick and soft, and he gazes at me steadily. I have no idea why, but he suddenly seems to trust me.
I turn to see what Rex thinks of all this, and discover that he hasn’t been watching any of it: he’s passed out. For a second I worry that he’s dead, but then I see that he’s breathing, but barely. His injuries—in addition to the exertion and dehydration—must have caught up with him.
I need to get him out of the open desert. The sun’s starting to sink toward the horizon. I’ve heard it gets cold in the desert at night. The temperature’s already starting to drop. If nothing else, it would be nice to have four walls protecting us from the elements.
“You gonna stick around?” I ask the wolf as I lift Rex up by his armpits and begin to drag him toward the guard station. I feel stupid talking to an animal, but it’s not like I have any better options for conversation. He looks me up and down and then begins to follow me, silently loping along.
Luckily it only takes us a few minutes to reach the structure. All the windows have shattered from when it collapsed, but there are wooden shutters that look intact. After a couple of hard shoves, the door swings open.
The place is on its side, but it looks mostly intact. The inside’s got a few desks, some chairs, clothes lockers, filing cabinets, a smashed computer, and a busted-up minifridge. Yeah, this should do nicely.
I step inside, dragging Rex with me, and the wolf follows behind us. I’m not sure why, but I feel strangely reassured to have him with us.
Unfortunately the place is pretty tiny. After I drop Rex’s body to the ground, there’s barely space to turn around without tripping over the wolf. I’m thinking maybe there isn’t room for all of us in here.
He studies me for a second, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. He lets out a bark.
And then he starts to change. First the edges of his body lose focus, and then his fur begins to glow, somehow smoothing itself out into a glossy shell around his body almost like armor. He turns from white to green.
I take a shaky step back. I wonder if this is what happens when you spend a whole day wandering around a desert dragging a guy almost twice your size. I open my mouth to speak and then realize I have no idea what to say.
He’s not done yet either: now his skin is rough and scaly, and then his whole body begins to ripple like water in a pond just after you’ve tossed a rock into it. He’s shrinking.
It’s all happening so fast that I barely have time to wonder what’s going on. But then it’s over. Sitting at my feet, blinking up with huge, glittering eyes, is a lizard.
“Holy shit,” I mutter. They’re suddenly the only words I can remember.
It’s not like my life has been boring. I was raised in a secret community of alien conquerors, had my mind grafted onto the mind of a dead girl, recently developed superpowers.
But none of those things has been weirder than watching a wolf transform into a lizard right before my eyes.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.”
It’s the first time Rex has spoken to me directly. We’ve been here a few days now. I decided to stick it out to let both of us recover, although I’m barely sleeping because I worry that every little noise I hear could be the Mogs—or the U.S. military—coming to see if anyone survived the explosion. Oddly enough, I haven’t seen a hint of anyone—Mog or human. They must assume that everyone is dead and there’s no urgent need to sift through the debris.
We’ve got shelter and water, and although we went through the meager rations in the guard tower pretty quickly, I’ve managed to find small stores of food scattered around the ruins of the Dulce Base: military rations and crackers and chips and dried fruit. We’re not exactly living large, but it could be worse.
I was able to patch myself up pretty quickly using the first aid kit mounted to the wall of our hideout, and with rest and hydration, Rex is getting better too. His color’s improved each day, along with his breathing, although his arm still looks like it might be broken.
For the past few days, he’s been drifting in and out of consciousness, sometimes sleeping fitfully, other times passed out cold. Yesterday he spent most of the day awake, but he just sat in the corner, staring at the ceiling, totally silent. It was hard to tell if he couldn’t speak or if he just didn’t want to.
But now he’s decided to talk, and the thing he says is the one thing I’ve been dreading. He recognizes me.
I just shrug, trying to act like I don’t know what he’s talking about. “Yeah?” I ask, noncommittal.
“You’re Adamus Sutekh,” he continues. “Son of General Andrakkus Sutekh.” Now there’s no mistaking the contempt in his voice, or the way his lip curls in disgust. “You’re a traitor.”
I freeze. He knows everything. I stare at him, trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. I can still take him out if I have to—I won’t have that chance once he’s back to full health.
I shake the idea off one more time. I might be making a huge mistake, but I still think he’s too valuable to kill. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.
“I saved your life,” I say evenly. Rex snorts.
“You betrayed our people. You blew up the research lab at Ashwood.” That’s not strictly true—I shattered the lab, yes, with the Legacy that One gave me—but I let it pass as he raises his voice. “And I’m willing to bet that you’re responsible for all this too. Aren’t you?”
I turn away. I can’t even look at him. Even though I know I was doing the right thing—the thing I had to do—there’s still a part of me that feels ashamed.
Now he’s almost yelling, although he’s still too weak and hoarse to summon the strength to really scream. “You’re pathetic. I don’t know how a weakling like you managed to do it alone, but you’re the one who blew up the base. You killed everyone. Your own people.”
What I don’t tell him is that I wasn’t on my own. From the pieces of the puzzle that I’ve managed to put together—the chaos and noise during the attack, the extent of the wreckage afterwards—I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one attacking the base when it collapsed. If he wants to think I did all of this myself, that’s fine, but I know that the Garde must have been there too.
I just shrug. “I was looking for somebody,” I tell him. “You guys were holding him here. I took him back.”
Rex is still glaring at me. “You killed all those soldiers to save one person?” he asks. “That human we were holding, the boy? Why?”
My new friend saves me the trouble of answering. He’s been out and about all day, scouting as usual, and now he swoops in through the open doorway of our shelter and settles on my shoulder. He’s taken on the shape of a hawk today and his talons grip tight through the T-shirt I scavenged from a locker.
Rex recoils when he sees the bird. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s Dust,” I say, happy for the change in conversation. Rex just narrows his eyes at me. I can see the wheels turning in his head. I can’t figure out what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, it’s nothing good.
I reach up and stroke Dust’s head, and he ruffles his feathers contentedly. He and I have already become buddies. The name “Dust” seemed appropriate out here in the middle of the desert, and he seems perfectly happy to be called anything at all. I don’t know what he is or why he’s out here, but I’m starting to have a feeling we’ve both been lonely for a pretty long time.
Rex, on the other hand, doesn’t seem at all pleased to have company. He eyes me and Dust for a moment longer and then, out of nowhere, springs to his feet. Before I know what’s happening, he’s got me pinned up against the wall, his fingers wrapped around my neck. Dust flutters from my shoulder and alights on the table across the room. He lets out an earsplitting squawk, but Rex ignores it.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, traitor,” he snarls at me. “And I don’t know what that thing is. But your days are numbered. Look at how weak you are. Even injured, I could kill you right now.”
“Then do it,” I say. I’m bluffing, of course. “Kill me,” I tell him.
Then there’s a roar from behind him and Rex spins around to come face-to-face with Dust. Only now he’s not a hawk. Or a lizard. Or a wolf. He’s shifted into a huge lion, so big the shack can hardly contain him. Having successfully gotten Rex’s attention with the growl, he now opens his huge jaws and licks his chops as if to say, Go ahead, try me.
Rex jumps back, startled, but he isn’t as surprised as I thought he would be. He pivots his head towards me with a nasty frown. “I knew it,” he said. “Only a turncoat like you would keep a Chimæra for a pet.”
I look at him blankly. “Chimæra.” It rings a bell, but I have no idea what it means.
Rex snorts. “You don’t even know what he is, do you? That’s what it is. It’s a Loric beast, a shape-changer. High Command thought they were just legends, but when we invaded Lorien it turned out they were real. Nasty things, and vicious.”
Of course. “Chimæra.” Now I remember the word. They’re mentioned in the Good Book—something about evil little pests, I think—but the days I used to spend poring over Setrákus Ra’s sacred book of directives feels so long ago that I can barely remember any of it.
