Page 11 of Theirs to Crave

My gaze whipped to the next cage. The Indigo girls were now standing in a loose formation. As I watched, the center figure—Yin—licked their lips with a black tongue and nodded once, decisively.

“Holy shit.” Mariano’s voice was high with shock. “They spit acid?!”

“It seems so,” replied Shane hollowly.

“Cassandra?” Ria kept her velvety voice low as she crouched at the edge of her cell. “Cassandra, can you hear me?”

I held my breath, my eyes and ears straining for any sign of life from the fallen woman.

“Hear you.”

The weak, muffled words felt like rain in the desert. My breath rushed out in a ragged moan, and I collapsed to my knees on the floor. Mariano pressed his side to mine, letting me follow the pattern of his slowing breaths.

“Thank god,” Ria sighed, slumping.

Cassandra tried to push herself up but fell back with a cry. Slowly, gingerly, she rolled onto one hip and stared at Logan.

His cries had quieted to grunts, and as we watched, his thrashing turned into jerking spasms until—finally—he stilled. Cassandra continued to watch him for a handful of breaths, then silently rolled onto her back.

“What happened?” Her voice was distant, the hollowness sharing only a vague curiosity.

Ria cleared her throat. “Apparently, the Indigo Girls are badass acid spitting warriors.” The humor in her tone was forced, but I appreciated the effort.

“How badly are you hurt? Can you stand?” Shane asked.

“Give her a damn second,” Ria snapped.

“I’d love to,” he replied evenly. “I’m concerned that Logan won’t. If he’s still alive, he needs to be immobilized while he’s down.”

Ria’s fists clenched, but she dipped her chin, pacified.

Cassandra grunted and painfully got to all fours. She’d only shuffled forward two steps when she hissed and reared back.

“Mariposa!” Mariano cried.

“I’m okay,” Cassandra said, shaking her right hand. “A few drops of the acid missed him, is all.” She continued forward more carefully, muttering, “More’s the pity,” under her breath.

“Is he breathing?” Shane’s voice was steady, its normal beauty strangled by tension.

Cassandra leaned to check, but jerked away as Logan seized, his body ratcheting up and slamming back onto the floor. His head made a sickening sound as it hit the filthy metal. Blood arced from his nose with the next spasm. He seized once more, and was still.

“Not now,” Cassandra whispered. “He can’t hurt me. Not anymore.” She crawled away and curled up with her back to us, shaking with sobs.

None of us tried to talk.

I sat in a state of numb timelessness. I was aware of my mind’s frantic spinning, but disconnected from it. After an eternity, I became aware of Mariano’s warm callouses against my cold fingers. I felt the metal floor gritty beneath my bare legs. I smelled the sourness of fear sweat drying on my skin. Gradually, piece by piece, I folded back into my body.

My breathing must have changed, because Mariano squeezed my fingers, his support silent but unquestionable.

Cassandra forced herself to her feet, moving like every breath hurt. She faced the Indigo Girls with her head high, then touched her palms together and bowed.

Ria—who was closest to her—gasped. “Oh, honey,” she mourned.

Cassandra flinched but didn’t look away from her alien saviors. She met each of their silvery gazes, and when Yin stepped forward, Cassandra bowed again, pressing a hand to her heart. “Thank you,” she said with solemn gratitude.

Yin returned the gesture, the replying trill soft and sad.

When the Indigo Girls retreated to sit huddled together, Cassandra turned to us.

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