Endangered

by Michelle Larkin

  Watching her finish the doughnut with a mixture of disgust and curiosity, Tora handed her a napkin as Aspen reached inside the bag for doughnut number two: a chocolate-frosted Boston cream. Also gone in three seconds flat.

  She’d saved the best for last. Reaching into the bag for the third and final doughnut, she held the chocolate glazed aloft for inspection before finishing it off in two bites. Satisfied for the moment, she wiped the chocolate from her mouth and took a sip of coffee.

  “How long have you been eating like that?” Tora asked.

  “As long as I can remember.”

  “Do you work out?”

  “I run a few miles most mornings before work.”

  “Does your diet consist of mostly sugar?”

  She nodded, bracing herself for the impending lecture on proper nutrition. She’d heard it all before and had tried it all before. Whenever she limited her sugar intake, she became so light-headed and lethargic she could barely function at all. Running on pure determination, she once went a whole week without any sweets and ended up in the hospital on a glucose IV for three days.

  “I suspect your sugar cravings have something to do with the vaccine you were given to thwart your shapeshifting abilities.”

  That was an interesting theory. Sure would explain a lot.

  “Your body is probably expending a lot of energy trying not to shapeshift. You may find yourself craving different foods once we start training your body to do what comes naturally.”

  “Did you put all those clothes in my room?”

  Tora nodded. “I did the same for Skye. I know the two of you didn’t have time to pack.”

  “Thanks.” Maybe she’d been too quick to judge Tora. Looked like there was a softer side to the doctor, after all. “How long are we training today?” She didn’t want Skye to wake up and wonder where she was.

  “We’ll be training from dawn until dusk every day,” Tora replied. “Sometimes longer.”

  “Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

  “A what?”

  “A pen. You know, one of those ancient writing implements people used before computers and smartphones came along.”

  “I know what a pen is. Why do you need one?”

  “I want to leave a note for Skye so she knows where I am.”

  Tora reached over and pressed a button to the right of Skye’s bedroom door. “Skye, this is Dr. Madigan. Aspen and I are training. We’ll be gone all day.” She released the button and turned to Aspen. “That message will play automatically as soon as the sensors detect movement in her bedroom.”

  Rolling her eyes, Aspen leaned over to press the same button. “Skye, this is Aspen. Sorry for the boring message from the robot doctor. Have fun today, eat lots of sugar, and kick Oscar’s ass in air hockey. Aim for the right corner—that’s his weak spot. Oh, and check your closet and dresser drawers. A little fairy paid you a visit in the middle of the night and brought you some cool stuff. Later, kiddo.”

  Tora frowned. “Follow me.” She led Aspen to tunnel six. “We’ll start on the track with a five-mile run to warm up.” As they stepped inside, she waved her keycard to lock the door behind them. “All of our sessions will be done in private. If someone tries to get in, a message will play outside to let them know the room is occupied. It’s important for you to know we’ll never be interrupted.”

  Aspen unzipped her sweatshirt and hung it over the bleachers, waiting as Tora did the same. Wearing red shorts and a formfitting white V-neck, the doctor’s toned, athletic body was clearly visible now. For the first time since they’d met, she noticed they were the same height and build. But that was where the similarities ended. Tora’s fair skin, curly blond hair, and amber-gold eyes perfectly contrasted Aspen’s olive skin, straight black hair, and dark eyes. They were like yin and yang, Aspen realized. In more ways than one.

  “What’s your pace?” Tora asked, stretching her quads.

  “I do about an eight-minute mile, give or take. You?”

  “Same.”

  They started out at a comfortable pace, side by side. Before long, Aspen found herself pushing forward a bit. She wasn’t used to running with someone and found herself inadvertently quickening her pace, but Tora wasn’t backing down. Barely breaking a sweat, Tora kept up with no problem.

  Aspen’s competitive streak started rearing its ugly head. Soon, they were in a full-out sprint on the final lap to the finish line. Neck and neck, their legs were pumping high and fast. Aspen pushed her body as hard as she could, but she just couldn’t gain an inch. She suspected Tora was trying to do the same. They were too evenly matched. They crossed the finish line the same way they’d started—side by side.

  Breathing too heavily to talk, they walked another lap around the track to cool down.

  “Not bad for a bossy pants doctor,” Aspen said as soon as she got her wind back.

  “Not too shabby for a doughnut-eating cop.”

  Touché. “What’s next? We’re not doing that naked thing now, are we?”

  Tora walked over to a stainless-steel refrigerator, opened it, and grabbed two water bottles. She tossed one to Aspen. “Let’s hit the showers and then meet in the library.”

  “Please tell me we’re not doing the naked thing in the library.”

  “It’s called melding,” Tora said, taking a long drink. “And no, we’re not doing that in the library.”

  “Good.” Aspen sighed with relief as she unscrewed the cap from her bottle.

  “We’re doing that in your bedroom after the library.”

  She started to choke on her water.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll start with our clothes on first.” Tora waved her keycard to open the door. “See you in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Aspen returned to her room wondering how on earth she’d make it through melding. Even the word felt too…intimate. She wasn’t afraid to be naked with another woman. Hell, she’d done that plenty of times before. There was just something about getting naked with this woman that made her uncharacteristically nervous.

  She had come out to Oscar when she was fifteen and still remembered their chat over a bowl of Cocoa Puffs one morning before school. “I’m a lesbian. Just thought you should know.”

  He’d calmly set his spoon down on the edge of the bowl. “Are you sure?”

  She’d nodded, still chewing.

  “Thank God,” he’d said, leaping up from his chair to hug her. “Pubescent boys showing up at my house to take you on a date is a level of stress I just can’t handle.” He’d wept with relief. “Please, Aspen—I beg of you—please don’t change your mind about this. Boys are nothing but bad news until they turn sixty. If you change your mind at that point, I’d offer my begrudging support. For the record, my strong personal preference is that you remain a lesbian. But no pressure,” he’d added quickly.

  Months later, at a Pride festival he’d insisted they attend, he bought a bumper sticker that read Proud father of a lesbian. Faded and peeling, that sticker was still on the back bumper of his prized metallic blue ’67 Ford Mustang.

  Showered and dressed in jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt, and a zippered black Old Navy hoodie, she made her way to tunnel three and stepped inside the library. Tora was already sitting at a supersized rectangular oak table in the center of the room. Intricately carved and regal, it seated twenty and looked like it belonged in a castle. Tora removed her glasses, closed an ancient-looking book, and stood. She walked to Aspen and locked the door with a wave of her keycard. “You’re late.”

  “By, like, three minutes,” Aspen replied, checking her watch. She’d decided to take the extra time to shave her legs in case they did that melding thing later.

  She looked around in wonder. Cherrywood bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The rock ceiling in this room was at least fifteen feet high. A rolling ladder was affixed to each wall, allowing access to books on higher shelves. Brown leather armchairs with matching ottomans sat in all four
corners of the room. Each had its own throw blanket, side table, and Tiffany lamp. A worn emerald-green Persian rug covered the rock floor, lending the room a distinguished but comfortable look.

  “You’ll have to give me the name of your decorator,” Aspen said, thoroughly impressed. She’d bought her house three years ago and was still using the box her computer came in as her coffee table.

  “I’ve gathered some textbooks with photos of panthers,” Tora said, indicating a pile of books on the table. “I’d like you to flip through and study the photos.”

  “I don’t need picture books. I already know what a panther looks like.”

  “But have you ever studied the photo of a panther? The shape of its ears, the width of its nose, the length of its tail? You need to submerge yourself in those details and feel them on your own body.”

  “How can I feel a detail? That doesn’t make sense, Tora.”

  “It’s called using your imagination.”

  “I don’t have one of those.”

  “Of course you do. I’ll prove it.” Tora pulled up a chair alongside her. “Close your eyes and imagine you’re just finishing a five-mile run.”

  “I don’t have to imagine. We just did.”

  “Close your eyes and visualize it, please.”

  Sighing, Aspen closed her eyes. But her brain didn’t go for a five-mile run. It was still right there in the library, sitting beside Tora.

  “Now that you’ve completed your run, your body is hungry.”

  That wasn’t much of a stretch. She was hungry.

  “After you shower and dress, you decide to go to the kitchen for something to eat and bump into Helga. She’s been in the kitchen all morning, baking.”

  “Is she baking something for me?” Aspen asked.

  “Helga heard you were training today, and she wanted to surprise you with your very own chocolate lava cake.”

  Aspen’s mouth was already beginning to water. She liked where this was heading.

  “You sit at the kitchen table. She cuts a very large piece and carries it over to you on a white porcelain plate. She hands you a silver fork and smiles. The cake is still slightly warm. It smells rich and moist. You take your first bite of this chocolaty heaven, delighting in every last chocolate-filled mouthful, one after another, until not even a crumb is left behind. You wipe your mouth with a napkin and take a long drink from the glass of milk beside your plate—”

  “I was with you until the milk.”

  “You don’t like milk?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what do you drink with cake?”

  “Orange soda.”

  “That’s appalling. Who drinks orange soda with chocolate cake?”

  “I do,” Aspen said, opening her eyes.

  “Fine. You can have some orange soda with your cake, if that’s what you want.”

  “Is Helga really in the kitchen baking me a cake right now?”

  Tora frowned. “No, Aspen. That was the point of this exercise: using your imagination to believe the story and feel the details.”

  “That was cruel. And now I’m really hungry. You’re a terrible trainer.”

  A man’s voice came over the library’s intercom. “Tora, you there?”

  The doctor stood abruptly, hurried to the door, and pressed the intercom button. “I’m here.”

  “Sophie’s water broke. She’s in active labor.”

  “I’m on my way.” She turned to Aspen. “You should come with me.”

  “Someone’s having a baby?”

  Tora nodded and waved her keycard to open the door. “But Shroud births are very different from human births.”

  “I don’t really have the stomach for that kind of thing. I should probably hang back and become one with my brethren,” she said, reaching for a panther book.

  “This is something you need to see. We don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Tora led Aspen to her bedroom, waved the keycard, and stepped inside.

  Aspen hesitated at the threshold. “I thought we were going to deliver a baby. Why’d you bring me here?”

  “You’ll see. Come on,” Tora said impatiently.

  But Aspen didn’t budge. Something felt off. “Did you trick me into coming here to do the naked melding thing?”

  Tora grabbed the front of Aspen’s sweatshirt and, with surprising strength, yanked her into the bedroom before waving the keycard to lock the door behind her. “You cop types are unbelievable,” she said, walking to the closet. “Always have to be in control.”

  “Sounds like you should have been a cop instead of a doctor.”

  Tora opened the closet door and stepped inside, glaring at her. “Get in here.”

  “There are a lot of things you could probably convince me to do, but this is where I put my foot down. As a proud gay woman, I am not going back in the closet.” There, she’d said it. She needed that fact to be known before any nakedness happened between them. With any luck, maybe Tora would decide to put her with someone else for that portion of her training.

  “As a proud gay woman myself, I would never ask you to,” Tora shot right back. “Just get in here before I shapeshift and drag you in with my teeth.”

  Against her better judgment, Aspen joined Tora in the closet. Apparently, her gaydar needed new batteries.

  Tora shut the closet door and switched on a dim overhead light. “There’s a back door in here that leads to the railway system.” She ducked behind the hanging clothes, grabbed for Aspen’s hand, and pulled her to the rear of the closet. “Yours is the only bedroom with access, which is why I assigned you here. Most of your training will be at the surface or in other parts of the sanctuary. We’ll be using this railway system as our primary means of transportation.” She opened a small hidden panel and skimmed her fingers over a series of buttons. “If something happens and your life is threatened in any way, this is your best and only escape route. The passcode is chocolate.”

  “Funny,” Aspen said as the rock wall in front of them slid aside.

  “Needed to be something you’d remember in a pinch.”

  They both came out of the closet together, the irony of the moment not lost on Aspen. As the closet light blinked out and the door slid shut behind them, a narrow rock tunnel was instantly illuminated by a long row of torches set high in the wall.

  “I’ve stationed three trolleys here,” Tora went on. “Each trolley seats six, so all seventeen of you can leave together if there’s an evacuation.”

  “Has that ever happened before?” Aspen asked.

  “No.” Tora climbed inside the green trolley first in line. “The government hasn’t found us yet, but it’s good to be prepared.”

  Aspen seated herself beside Tora. “Is there anything you haven’t thought of?”

  “I hope not,” Tora admitted. “A lot of people are counting on the fact that I’ve prepared for every contingency.”

  Aspen saw the immense weight of responsibility on Tora’s shoulders. The doctor’s bossy bravado was just that—bravado. This woman was focused, organized, and efficient. Tora obviously knew how to get things done and would move heaven and earth to help her people. It struck Aspen like a falling brick from a tall building that Tora was someone she could count on. She thought back to what Mouse had told her in the tunnel. “I heard about your father. I’m sorry.”

  Caught off guard, Tora’s poker face softened. “Thanks.” She switched on the trolley’s headlights, put it in gear, and drove forward. “That happened two years ago. He was a good man. You would have liked him.”

  Aspen grew curious and suddenly found herself wanting to know more about Tora. “Did you grow up here?”

  “Pretty much. We had a house in Wellesley, but we stayed here mostly. My father homeschooled me, so we spent a lot of time working on this place together. He was a doctor—a neurosurgeon. One of the best in the world. Ironically enough, that’s what ended up getting him killed.” She slowed the trolley as t
hey rounded a sharp bend in the tunnel.

  “A patient requested an emergency consultation for a rare form of brain cancer,” she went on. “Every neurosurgeon he’d seen informed him it was inoperable—everyone except my father. He was the only one who would even attempt resection. The day before the surgery, my father received word that this patient led an anti-Shroud movement known for inciting violence against our people. The Shroud community implored him to take this man’s life while he was on the table, but my father wouldn’t do it. He said he’d made an oath as a doctor to save lives, not end them. He went ahead with the surgery and successfully resected the tumor to save his patient’s life. When the man woke up from anesthesia, he told my father to get his affairs in order. He thought my father was too successful and making too much money for a Shroud. He offered a large sum of money to any human for my father’s prompt execution.”

  Aspen knew most crimes against Shrouds went by the wayside. Crimes against humans always took priority.

  “My father called and asked me to meet him at our favorite diner down the street from the hospital. We both assumed meeting in public was safe. We were making plans to go into hiding when a masked gunman stormed through the front door. Fifteen people died that day. My father was one of them.”

  “I remember that,” Aspen said. “BPD never caught the guy. From what I heard, the trail went cold.” She knew the only reason they’d launched an investigation after the attack was because two of the fifteen victims were human.

  “You never found him because one of my people found him first.”

  Aspen was silent as she processed this new information. “After your father saved the life of this patient, the patient turned around and put a price on his head?”

  Tora nodded.

  “Hell of a way to say thank-you.” Aspen sighed. She glanced at Tora’s hand on the steering wheel. “How’d you avoid getting the mark?”

  “My father had adoption papers drawn up before I was born and a very credible story to go with them. The government never questioned it.”