Endangered

by Michelle Larkin

  “Would they change their minds if they found out you were a Shroud?” Skye asked.

  Aspen set her elbows on her knees and hung her head as she considered the question. “Some of them, maybe,” she said honestly, meeting Skye’s green gaze. “But a lot of them wouldn’t care. If the shit hit the fan, those are the people I know I could trust.”

  Skye’s eyebrows knitted together in doubt. “But how do you know who to trust and who not to?”

  “Takes time, kiddo. Getting to know humans and building relationships takes time, patience, and practice. And good instincts,” she added with a wink.

  “It’s the practice part that has me worried,” Tony said. “Baseball practice is one thing. Striking out won’t get you a bullet in the head.”

  Aspen looked around at the group, taking inventory as her gaze bounced from one face to the next. The shared trauma of losing friends, family, and loved ones was stitched into every expression as they waited for her to respond. Even Oscar was leaning back on the sofa, his face ambivalent. The bottom line here was trust. She was asking them to trust humans and go against long-held beliefs that had become the very foundation of their survival.

  She stood, slid her hands in her pockets. “All of you work with humans on the surface. Skye, you don’t work with humans, but you’ve gone to school with them since kindergarten. Let’s face it…they outnumber us by, like, a lot. Why limit ourselves to socializing with only our own kind? Those in power are trying to keep their gene pool clean, but aren’t we doing the exact same thing?”

  “They’re actively killing us off to keep their gene pool clean,” Tora pointed out. “We’re in hiding. Our clean gene pool is simply a by-product of fear. Big difference in our core motivation.”

  Aspen stood her ground. “But the results are the same. And sometimes in life, results are all that matter.” She let that hang in the air for a minute before she went on. “There are lots of good people out there. I like to think the truly good people outnumber the bad—not an easy perspective to keep in my line of work, believe me. There are humans on the surface who are kind, caring, and want to do the right thing. Once they understand who and what we are, I have no doubt they’d want to help us, protect us, even learn from us. We’re cheating our people from the benefits of knowing humans. We’re also cheating humankind of the things we have to offer.”

  “Like what?” Liam asked. “What could we possibly teach humans?”

  “Teamwork, for one. I’m still new to being a Shroud, but I’ve never seen strangers work together as seamlessly as all of you.”

  Pierre shifted on the sofa. “Humans won’t care about that.”

  “See, that’s where I think you’re wrong,” she said. “I think most humans are extraordinarily selfish—”

  “Our point exactly,” Tony quipped.

  “Humans think being selfish will meet their needs and make them happy,” she went on. “But many of them aren’t happy—they’re downright miserable. Deep down, they long to be part of something bigger than themselves. That’s where we come in. The ways of the Shrouds will inevitably rub off on humans.”

  Hank spoke up, “And their ways will inevitably rub off on us. I can’t speak for everyone here, but I’m not too eager for that to happen.”

  The room was quiet as Aspen considered everyone’s perspective. She really had no right to suggest such a dangerous plan. The loss of her parents probably paled in comparison to the repeated traumas and discrimination these Shrouds had experienced throughout their lives. For the first time since being introduced to this world, she felt like an outsider. How would she lead her people in a war against humans if they couldn’t accept and trust her human instincts?

  Oscar cleared his throat. “Love. When you strip everything else away, it’s the most basic of all instincts—to both human and Shroud.”

  Aspen nodded.

  “You’re asking us to love humans?” Hank looked back and forth between Aspen and Oscar. “Even though they’re trying to scrub us off this planet?”

  “Not all humans are trying to kill us,” Oscar said.

  “You’re missing the point.” Hank leaned forward. “Our government is run by humans.”

  “Our government doesn’t represent all of humanity.”

  “Don’t they?” Hank removed his ball cap and hung it over one knee. “How do we know every last human on this planet doesn’t share the president’s contempt for us?”

  “Because I can’t even fathom that. If that was the case, Shrouds should just give up now. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to live in a world where we were despised by every last human in existence.” Oscar looked around, meeting everyone’s gaze. “Come on. Aspen’s right. We’ve been around humans. We know they’re not all bad. Some of them can be trusted.”

  “Yeah, but which ones?” Mrs. B asked.

  “Only you can answer that.” He sighed. “We all just need to do what we do best.”

  “Trust our instincts,” Skye finished for him.

  Hank replaced his ball cap with the brim facing backward. “And just how do you propose we convince other Shrouds to love thy fellow human?”

  “That’s easy. We tell them the truth.” Oscar gazed up at Aspen proudly. “Orders came directly from the new Myriad in charge.”

  * * *

  Aspen followed at the back of the line as Michael led their group to the rec room. He waved his keycard in front of a small sensor in the rock wall to unveil a hidden keypad. “The new passcode is chocolate,” he said, punching in the code.

  Everyone turned to stare at Aspen.

  “Why’s everyone looking at me?”

  “Because we all know you have a problem,” Hank said.

  “Not anymore. I had two bagels for breakfast,” she announced proudly.

  Tony snickered. “And I’d bet my pension you washed it down with six chocolate doughnuts.”

  “No doughnuts. Just the bagels,” she said, indignant.

  Miller shook his head. “Once an addict, always an addict.”

  “Seriously. Tora said I’d start craving different foods as soon as I shifted. She was right.”

  Skye put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Aspen. Even Myriads have their weaknesses.”

  “But that’s what she said.” She looked at Tora, who was standing beside her. “Go on. Tell them.”

  “About the three candy bars you ate before the bagel?” Tora asked with a barely discernible wink.

  Turning away and shaking their heads, they all filed through the doorway and into the tunnels.

  “Very funny. She’s joking!” Aspen called out as she stepped over the threshold and onto the tunnel’s solid rock floor. “Not the best time for your sense of humor to make its debut,” she whispered.

  “It’s the perfect time,” Tora whispered back.

  Torches overhead came alive with a whoosh, instantly illuminating the four trolleys in front of them. Aspen did the math: Eighteen in their group, plus Michael. Each trolley seated six.

  “That one’s ours,” Tora said, grabbing Aspen by the elbow and leading her to the last trolley in line.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell them I’m a reformed chocolate addict.”

  “It’s been less than a day. I’d hardly call that reformed.”

  “But I’ve never gone this long without chocolate. That kind of thing at least deserves—”

  “A gold star.” Tora nodded. “I’ll grab one from the teacher’s desk and put it on your forehead later.” She stepped inside the trolley and sat in the driver’s seat as the other three trolleys sped away.

  “I was going to say a hug.” Aspen stood in place and did her best to look offended.

  “We’re preparing to wage war on the SEA, and you’re asking for—”

  “A hug,” Aspen finished. “That’s right.”

  “I’m not a hugger. Now get in.” Tora pressed the ignition switch and glanced over.

  Aspen made no motion to
join her. She crossed her arms and met Tora’s gaze.

  “One hug.” Tora sighed impatiently. “Then can we go?”

  “Of course.”

  Tora climbed out of the trolley, stepped over, and gave Aspen the most pathetic hug she’d ever received in her life. To avoid bodily contact, Tora was hugging her like a second grader might hug someone with cooties. Adding to the torture, Tora finished it off with a few quick pats. “There,” she said, drawing back. “Happy?”

  “No.” Aspen grimaced. “On a scale of one to ten, that totally sucked.”

  “Like I said, I’m not a hugger. Can we go now?”

  “Was your dad a good hugger?”

  “Aspen”—Tora threw her hands up in frustration—“I have no idea.”

  “How can you not know where your own dad rated on the hug scale?”

  “Because we never hugged. He was more a pat-on-the-head type of father when I was a kid. Can we go now?”

  She suddenly felt sad for Tora. “I don’t know how you’ve made it this far without learning how to hug. It’s like going through life not knowing how to read.”

  “I beg to differ.” Tora crossed her arms. “And I’ve gotten along just fine, thank you.”

  “Hugs are like hot cocoa during a snowstorm. They make you feel like, no matter what’s going on outside, everything will be okay. Haven’t you ever gotten one of those?” She’d gotten more than her share of those kinds of hugs from Oscar, and she knew her life was made much richer because of it.

  “I’m sure I have at some point. I don’t remem—”

  “Then the answer is no, you haven’t. Those are the hugs you never forget.” She stepped closer to Tora and opened her arms. “May I?”

  “If I let you hug me, then can we go?”

  Aspen nodded. She swiftly closed the gap between them, wrapped her arms around Tora, and pulled her in for a full-body hug.

  Tora immediately stiffened. It was like hugging a telephone pole. “It’s your turn to wrap your arms around me and hug me back,” Aspen whispered. She felt Tora’s arms at her back, applying tentative pressure. “Tighter,” she urged.

  “This is silly,” Tora said as she tightened her embrace.

  “A little tighter.”

  “There are other things I could be doing with my time right now, Aspen. My to-do list is about a mile long.”

  “Now…relax a little, breathe, and hug me like you mean it.”

  “How long is this going to take?”

  “Shh. No talking. That’s what’s so great about hugs. They convey everything you want to say without the need for words. Like what I’m saying right now, for instance, is thank you.

  “For what?” Tora asked, sounding surprised.

  “For helping us. Training me. Caring about our people as much as you do,” she answered. “And for taking your guard down and sharing this moment with me.” They stood there, hugging in silence, their shared body heat keeping the cold, damp air from the tunnels at bay. She smiled as she felt Tora’s walls slowly crumbling.

  Satisfied Tora had received the full benefit of an authentic hug—not one of those knockoff hugs that people often tried to get away with—she loosened her grasp and pulled back, surprised to see the tears in Tora’s eyes. She frowned. “Hugs are not supposed to make you cry.”

  “There’s something in my contact lens.”

  “You wear contacts?”

  “No. But can’t we just go with that for now?” Tora climbed back inside the trolley.

  “Fine. But I hope you’re a better kisser than a hugger,” Aspen said, settling in alongside her.

  Tora looked over. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Kissing is a lot harder to teach. Not saying I’m not willing. Just saying I hope you have a natural aptitude for that particular skill.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to that, Aspen. This topic of conversation is totally inappropriate—”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” She shrugged. “I’ll find out for myself sooner or later.”

  “I certainly don’t want to mislead you. I am not looking for any kind of involvement with you beyond…”

  “Beyond what?”

  “Friends.”

  “Past that already. We slept together last night, remember?”

  Tora turned in her seat to face Aspen. “We slept in the same bed as friends,” she said firmly.

  “But we held hands, and you liked it.” She grinned. “I won’t mention the naked thing because that was part of the training, so it doesn’t count.”

  Shaking her head, Tora hit the ignition switch.

  “Can I drive?” She had to raise her voice to be heard above the engine.

  “No. I’m taking you on a tour.”

  “I’m a hands-on learner. If you make me sit here while you drive, I won’t retain anything. I’ll be too distracted by your beauty,” Aspen admitted. “And then I’ll start fantasizing about our first kiss. Is that what you want?”

  “You really are impossible.”

  Aspen could tell Tora was trying hard not to smile as they traded seats.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tora took a deep breath as they sped through the railway system. Aspen was making it virtually impossible to stay focused. She didn’t have time for these antics. Neither of them did.

  She found herself thinking about Aspen’s hug. No one had ever hugged her like that before. She’d felt safe, connected, and cared about. There was something else, too. Hugging Aspen had made her feel vulnerable in a way she wasn’t accustomed. For some reason, it had brought back all the pain of losing her father.

  She’d ended her last relationship with a hospital colleague shortly after her father passed away. Neither of them had been emotionally invested. They’d only been dating a few months, if you’d even call it dating. More like friends with benefits. Now that she thought about it, there was never really a friendship to speak of. Their arrangement had simply provided a convenient means to sex. She was much too busy at that time in her life to want or allow for anything deeper.

  Hard to believe two years had passed since she was intimate with someone. Had it really been that long? She’d been too busy to notice. So many Shrouds had been murdered in the last few years. It was simply too risky to form attachments. Chances were good they’d end up dead before long.

  Her decision to keep everyone at arm’s length wasn’t a conscious one, she realized, but it was practical. She had a sanctuary to run and big shoes to fill in her father’s absence. Putting up walls and staying focused on productivity for the good of her people made sense two years ago. It made even more sense now because more was at stake.

  Aspen was working feverishly to get inside those walls. And succeeding, Tora admitted. If they took this any further, their feelings would only serve as a distraction for both of them. Too much was on the line to allow this to continue. She had to put a stop to…whatever this was. Now.

  “We’re coming up on chamber two. Park behind the other trolleys.”

  “Copy that.” Aspen slowed the trolley to a stop and cut the engine.

  “I’m not gay,” she blurted. “I only said that so you wouldn’t feel self-conscious during our melding session.”

  Aspen just stared at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said honestly.

  Long seconds ticked by as they held one another’s gaze. The connection between them was palpable. Tora looked away.

  “Why were you crying when we hugged?”

  The question caught her off-guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just tell me why.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “And telling you I tried to kill myself when I was a kid was none of your business. I chose to share that with you because I trusted you enough to tell you the truth.”

  Aspen was right. Sharing that had taken courage. Tora hadn’t considered the trust factor until now. Part of her yearned to explore their connection. Momentarily conf
licted, her resolve to keep Aspen at arm’s length faltered.

  “I think you’re starting to have feelings for me, and that scares you,” Aspen went on. “You’ve kept yourself out of everyone’s reach for a long time—maybe your whole life, I don’t know. I think you’re hiding…like a mouse. But you’re a lion, Tora.”

  Tora’s back went up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re hiding behind your responsibilities here at the sanctuary. If this place spontaneously combusted, I’m sure you’d find something else to hide behind. You take life way too seriously—”

  “And you think everything’s a joke!” she shouted, her temper slipping from her grasp. “You’re impulsive, inexperienced, impetuous. If someone doesn’t rein you in—namely, me—you’ll likely get us all killed!”

  Still side by side in the trolley, they locked eyes. She was fuming. How dare Aspen accuse her of being a coward?

  “I don’t hide, Tora, no matter what. When you’re ready to stop hiding, come find me.” She looked over Tora’s shoulder and cleared her throat. “I’d prefer to make a dramatic exit here, but you’re blocking my way. Climbing over you, all angry and indignant, would just be comical and defeat the point entirely.”

  Tora threw open the trolley door and stepped out. Aspen couldn’t even make it through an argument without cracking a joke.

  “And another thing,” Aspen said, climbing out from the trolley. “Insulting me with words I don’t know the meaning of is just plain dumb.”

  Tora crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

  “What the hell does impetuous mean anyway?”