Vernisha yanked her hand back with all her strength. Flesh tore as she pulled free.

  Blood streamed from the wound and dripped onto the floor. She stared at her mangled hand, then at the crimson staining Ulah’s teeth, teeth shaped like a shark’s.

  He panted heavily, as if he had just run a marathon. His tongue slid over his teeth, savoring the blood.

  “I am hungry…” he rasped again.

  What is happening to him?

  She quickly hid her injured hand behind her back, pressing it into her brown sari and soaking the fabric.

  He turned toward her. His gaze was unfocused, predatory. “I am…” he started.

  “Ulah, stop!” she shouted, already knowing it would not matter. Whatever this was, it was not normal, and she had no idea why.

  The only explanation she could form was that some monster had used a body-type skill on him, altering his biology.

  As she tried to piece it together, Ulah lunged. She barely sidestepped in time.

  “I will break your jaw if you don’t stop!” she yelled, but he did not respond.

  Had it been the bread? She had eaten some too. She had felt pain, but nothing like this. No changes. No overwhelming hunger.

  Ulah staggered like a rabid, unsteady goat. He tripped over a chair and crashed onto the floor with a heavy thud. The frail wooden boards trembled.

  She hoped he had not hurt himself too badly.

  Natasha stood frozen, her expression unreadable. “Just what the hell is going on?” she muttered.

  “He’s trying to eat me!” Vernisha said.

  Natasha hesitated, then said, “Hold him.”

  Vernisha moved at once. Ulah had just pushed himself to his knees when she grabbed him from behind and locked his neck in a tight hold. Natasha crouched in front of them, watching him as he clawed desperately at Vernisha’s arms.

  She studied his bloodied teeth. “Ulah, do you recognize my voice?”

  He groaned.

  “Pink-terra love bird?” she teased, using Caren’s nickname for him.

  Another groan.

  Vernisha swallowed. “I think it has something to do with that bread I gave him when I got home. Maybe eating it made him a target for a monster with a body attribute.”

  “He would be dead, or in a monster’s stomach, if… wait. Bread?” Natasha turned sharply. “Explain.”

  “Yes. I put a roll in your hand too while you were asleep.”

  “Ah. I thought it was from your father.” Her voice stayed flat. “Where did you get it?”

  Vernisha hesitated.

  Ulah thrashed, jerking his head back into her chin. She gritted her teeth. “A Balash temple,” she admitted.

  Natasha’s expression did not shift. “Why were you near one?”

  “I didn’t go inside. You told me not to. I thought…”

  “You thought what? Don’t go inside, don’t go near, don’t get involved. Why twist my words when you knew exactly what I meant?”

  “I know. I just thought it would be different if I stayed outside. I just wanted something to eat. I didn’t think this would happen.”

  Natasha bit her lip and shook her head. “Whatever. What about you? You feel like eating people too?”

  “No.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I woke up in a lot of pain.” Vernisha gestured with her injured hand, then toward her stomach. “But it mostly faded.”

  “I see. Your father. Did he eat any?”

  Her stomach dropped. She nodded. “Yeah. I forgot about him. I was focused on Ulah.”

  “I see… strange. He’s just been sleeping.” Natasha glanced toward the mattress in the corner. “Think he’s holding in the pain?”

  She looked at Vernisha, clearly expecting an answer.

  “Probably? But I doubt it. He never had a high pain tolerance.”

  Natasha shifted her weight to her left leg, her thinking stance. “He probably thinks it’s just gas.”

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  “Then wouldn’t he be chewing Kuger herbs?” Vernisha said. He usually kept one in his mouth at night and in the morning. Hulas tasted like spice; Kugers were worse.

  “Who knows what that man thinks.”

  Ulah kept struggling, even trying to stand. Vernisha hoped whatever this was could be reversed.

  Natasha sighed. Then Vernisha heard deliberate movement. Natasha grabbed the table runner and yanked it free, sending fruit baskets crashing to the floor.

  “Your father is up. Get to the door,” Natasha ordered, already balling the cloth. In one swift motion, she gagged Ulah, gestured for Vernisha to release him, and took over.

  “I need something to drink. Fuck…” Caren’s voice cracked like shattered glass. He clutched his throat, hunched, every step heavy but urgent.

  Vernisha grabbed a bottle of grated dried Hulas and backed toward the door, eyes locked on him.

  “If we give him water, would he…” she began.

  Caren lunged like a massive, enraged zombie.

  Shit.

  Natasha grabbed the back of Vernisha’s shirt and sprinted. They burst onto the wooden steps outside. The house’s slight elevation gave them an advantage. A moment later, Caren thundered after them.

  Natasha shoved Vernisha forward. She hit the dirt hard, scrambled up.

  “I am dying of thirst!” Caren bellowed as he charged down the steps. Before reaching the last one, he groaned and collapsed face-first into the ground. The impact made Vernisha flinch. His old back injury must have flared violently.

  She turned to Natasha, heart racing. “Do you think they’re different enough to survive it?”

  “It?” Natasha asked, eyes still on Caren.

  “Healing.”

  Natasha did not look away. “What do you think?”

  Vernisha already knew the answer.

  Tch. They aren’t.

  Caren stirred again. His movements were sluggish at first, then gradually sped up. He lifted his bloodied forehead, crimson trailing down his chin. His forearms were bruised, yet he forced himself upright. The moment he tried to steady his stance, his balance failed. His foot slipped, and he tumbled toward the stairs. He barely reacted before his back slammed hard against the edge of a step.

  A sharp cry tore from his throat, then silence. That alone felt like luck.

  Natasha turned to Vernisha. “Get Marvin.” After a moment she added, “You remember where his house is?”

  “Yes, but I can barely see.”

  It was not completely dark like inside the house, but only large, shapeless outlines stood out in the murky night.

  “I’ll go then.”

  “Oh wow. You can see in the dark now?” Vernisha muttered.

  “I have a good memory.” Natasha handed her Ulah. “Watch them. If your father starts trouble, hit him in the head with a rock if you must.”

  “What if I kill him?” Vernisha asked, tightening her grip as Ulah squirmed, trying to sink his small teeth into her arm like a starving animal.

  “Then you’d be a father killer. My little psycho,” Natasha said, already heading down the grassy slope.

  “Nice,” Vernisha murmured. Some twisted part of her compared the situation to royalty ordering executions. She had once dreamed of being royalty instead of a peasant. This was not what she meant.

  Natasha kept glancing back as she walked. Vernisha held Ulah firmly and hummed a song he used to sing with the neighbors. The sky was clear. Natasha felt an old longing to fly like a bird, to be free. Life rarely worked that way.

  She reached the bottom of the slope and headed toward a small wooden house with a garden on the right. The word “garden” felt generous. Earlier, red cabbages meant for sale had been half eaten by pests. Perhaps a miracle had happened since. She doubted it. The fool should have used rotten pink-terra sauce to keep insects away.

  She climbed Marvin’s narrow stairs and knocked. A ridiculous talisman hung on the door, one of his wife’s charms meant to bring luck and ward off Darsean cultists. Natasha considered it nonsense.

  She knocked again, harder, until movement sounded inside.

  “What the hell… Who—?” Palia’s sleepy voice answered. “Mervin.” A pause. Then louder, “Mervin,” followed by a shove.

  “What? What are you waking me up for?” Marvin’s groggy voice joined.

  “Someone’s at the door. Go check.”

  Natasha called out, “It’s me, Natasha. Emergency. My son and husband are very sick.”

  “Natasha?” Palia sounded alarmed. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

  Natasha muttered under her breath that she had waited for them to wake properly.

  She heard Palia shuffle toward the door. The handle rattled. It did not open. “Shit. One second.”

  Marvin groaned. “What did she say? I just woke up. My brain’s dead.”

  Palia snapped, “Get up! Her family is sick!”

  “Oh, give me a break.”

  Footsteps approached. “You found the key?” Marvin grumbled.

  “It’s hard to find things in the dark,” Palia shot back.

  “I’m not buying more blu-dust. Too expensive. When I meet that ‘Light for All’ boss, they’ll hear from me. Oh, you dropped the key!”

  “Huh?”

  “I stepped on it.”

  Natasha exhaled sharply. “Please hurry.”

  “All right. Give an old man a break.” The lock clicked.

  Natasha stepped back down as the door swung open. Marvin stood there half naked, a sheet barely covering him. He squinted into the night. “Where’s your lamp? Trying to break your neck?”

  “No time. Let’s go.”

  “Put pants on,” Palia said, throwing trousers and a large bag at him.

  He pulled them on quickly. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “They ate something. Now they have fangs and tried to attack us,” Natasha said calmly. “If we keep talking, they might come for you.”

  Marvin froze. Palia rushed past him, nearly knocking him over.

  “Fangs?” she demanded.

  Natasha nodded. “They want flesh and blood.”

  Marvin blinked. “Drink blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He sighed. “If you weren’t Palia’s friend and Caren’s wife, I’d shut the door.” Under his breath he muttered about gum-skin priests.

  Palia elbowed him. “Stop it.”

  “I’m serious!”

  She nudged Natasha forward. “Move.”

  On the way back, Marvin rambled about curses. Natasha ignored most of it.

  Near the house, Vernisha’s soft singing reached them. She rolled a fist-sized stone under her foot. The song sounded wrong, distorted.

  Palia raised the borrowed lamp. Light flickered over Caren, who lay groaning, hands twitching like a dying man grasping at air.

  “Why is he bleeding?” Marvin asked. “And moving like that?”

  “You’re the doctor,” someone muttered.

  Natasha answered, “I told Vernisha to use stones if he threatened her.”

  “How hard did she hit him?”

  Natasha looked at Vernisha. “How hard?”

  Vernisha rocked Ulah, avoiding eye contact. “Hard. First time he got strong, so I aimed at his chest. Second time… I thought he moved, but it was a sharkcrow.”

  Natasha sighed. “So it hit his head?”

  “By accident. It’s dark. I followed sound.”

  “I know. I’m not angry.”

  Marvin pulled out a bowl, spoon, and herbs. “Looks like you did more than knock him down. He might be brain-dead.”

  “Don’t be so negative,” Palia said.

  “Look at him,” Marvin snapped, though he barely looked. Natasha noticed his discomfort. Strange, given their history.

  “Poor bastard looks like Sonza now,” he muttered.

  “Don’t talk about my brother like that!”

  “Focus,” Natasha cut in.

  “Fine.” Marvin sighed. “Their weights? I don’t want to fetch the scale.”

  “Two seventy-eight and ninety pounds,” Natasha answered.

  Palia nudged her. “Better memory than me.”

  Natasha gave a small laugh.

  Palia’s expression softened. “Marvin will fix them. Somehow.”

  “Certainty,” Natasha replied.

  “You’re strong. If it were my son, I’d be crying. Him though?” She jerked a thumb at Marvin. “I’d laugh.”

  Marvin grumbled and began grinding some herbs. “We’ll need to put them to sleep before I can do anything.”