Page 9 of The Initial Insult

I tried to teach her sign language once and was starting to see indications of progress, until all she wanted to do was flip me off. Every time I approached the cage she’d give me a huge grin and a double bird. I couldn’t figure out where she learned it until one day I turned around and saw Cecil behind me, giving me the finger and laughing his ass off.

“Fucker,” I say, and Rue nods along with me.

I sign goodbye at her, but she turns her back, either refusing to show me that she remembers the sign or irritated that I’m leaving her already.

But I’ve got things to do, which is why I’m not going to give Cecil shit about the poison ivy sticking between my shoulder blades or tell Rue that I don’t have time to talk right now. I’ve got things to do, like find out what happened to my parents seven years ago.

And for that, I need manacles.

Chapter 7

Cat

The girl moves—sometimes—

as I do. Sleek. Purposeful.

I know the walk.

Something dies tonight.

She moves between us, watching me,

watching her.

The man, flashes silver, smells of machine.

A breeze brings her to me, meat and green things.

Death and life. She carries both.

Green sap, on her skin.

Drying earth blood.

A gust rattles the bones,

inside my cage. A collection of meals

Long eaten. Their memories, faded, gone.

She goes, with chains, heavy thoughts.

The man carries silver-flash-danger,

Closer.

Eyes me.

He’ll feed us tonight, bleary and slow-smelling,

throwing old meat.

He makes smoke, fills the air with bees,

light sparks. Small shakes. High hums.

I hunker, teeth out, ears down. Muscles tight under, nothing