Chapter 17: The Mouth

Chapter 17: Chapter 17: The Mouth

The room on the other side of the door was colder than Zoey expected.

It was long and white, with a floor so polished she could see her own nervous face in it. Along one wall ran a row of thick glass panels. Behind them sat a handful of operators in uniforms, tapping at consoles, murmuring into headsets, watching her with the flat professional boredom of people who had done this thousands of times.

And before them,something breathed.

Zoey stopped walking.

She knew what it was. Everyone did. They had taught it in school, shown it in documentaries, drawn it on posters in the lobby. But knowing a thing and standing in front of it were two very different experiences. The creature filled the entire chamber beyond the glass, an enormous, shifting bulk of dark flesh and slow, rolling shadow. It had no clear shape. Every time she tried to focus, it slipped, like looking at something through water.

She swallowed.

’That’s it. That’s the one.’

A speaker crackled overhead.

"Miss Zoey," said a woman’s voice, calm and clear. "Please approach the platform."

She did. Her boots squeaked against the floor. A short flight of steps led up to a metal platform that jutted out over the creature’s open mouth.

It was open.

"Go into the beast," the woman said.

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"Just... walk in?"

"That’s how it works. Whenever you’re ready."

Zoey stared at the mouth.

She had heard the stories. The smell. The slime. The heat. The reports said it was disgusting, and the reports were not exaggerating. She also knew the numbers. Half of the tried population awakened. The other half didn’t. It was a coin flip, in the most uncaring way imaginable.

But her family had awakened. Every single one. Her mother, her father, Jared, except they weren’t her blood. She still liked to think the odds were in her favor. They had to be.

’It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s just a mouth.’

She took a breath, pinched her nose, and stepped forward.

The first step sank. The floor of the mouth was soft and spongy, like walking on warm pudding. She took another. Then another. A thick, warm goo oozed over her boots and crept up her ankles.

"Oh, that’s so gross," she whispered. "That’s so, so gross."

She kept going.

The darkness closed over her head. The air thickened. The heat pressed in from every side, strange and prickling, not quite burning, but irritating, like a sunburn on the inside of her skin. The goo slid across her arms and neck and face. She clamped her mouth shut and squeezed her eyes closed.

"Remain where you are for a full minute," said the voice, muffled and distant.

Zoey counted.

One. Two. Three.

At 10, she nearly gagged. At 20, she started to hum, off key, just to drown out the smell. At 40, she began reciting the names of every cracker brand she knew. At 55, she thought she might actually die.

"Time. You may exit."

She stumbled out of the mouth, arms spread, gasping.

She braced herself for the worst. For the slime to cling to her hair. For the stench to follow her for days. She lifted one arm and stared at it.

It was clean.

Not wet. Not sticky. Not stained. Her sleeves were dry. Her hair was soft. The smell, the terrible, soul crushing smell, had vanished completely. Just like the reports said it would. Or rather, she realized with a jolt, her body had absorbed it.

That meant only one thing.

’I awakened.’

A strange, warm, trembling joy rose up in her chest. She pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from squealing.

"Congratulations," said the woman behind the glass. "You have successfully awakened. Please proceed to the next station."

A door slid open at the end of the platform. Beyond it was a small, bright room with a single table. On the table sat a wide tray lined with velvet, and on the velvet lay dozens of small, glittering gems.

Reds. Greens. Blues. Silvers. Some pulsed. Some sat dull and still. They shimmered under the lights like a handful of candy.

"Please select one," said the voice. "Drop it to learn its name and rank."

Zoey approached the table, hands clasped. She leaned over the tray and looked at the gems.

Every one of them looked perfect.

She picked up a green one, turned it over, put it down. A blue one. A pale gold one. A dark red one with a tiny crack down the center. She picked up a violet gem, held it to the light, frowned, and set it back.

She started at one edge and worked her way along the tray, picking each gem up in turn and putting it back. One minute passed. Then two. She passed the silver ones twice. She went back to the green ones for a second look.

Behind the glass, the operators began to murmur.

"She’s been at it for 3 minutes."

"Did she pick one yet?"

"She keeps going back."

"They always do."

Zoey flinched. She hadn’t known they could hear her. She glanced at the glass, then at the tray, and her hands started to shake.

"Miss," the woman’s voice said, kind but firm, "you should know that taking your time makes no difference. Whichever gem you select already has a set beast inside it."

"I know."

"Then please, just pick one already."

"I’m trying."

"And remember, this isn’t the end. You can always buy a higher grade gem later, if you save up. This is only your first."

That helped, a little. Zoey exhaled slowly and let her fingers drift over the tray one last time. They stopped on a small, green gem with a faint, oily shimmer. It was cool against her skin. It pulsed once, softly, like it recognized her.

She lifted it to her mouth, cupped it in both hands, and whispered.

"I wish for at least B rank."

Nothing answered. The gem just sat there, warm and silent.

She felt a little foolish. She dropped her hands to her sides, stepped back from the table, and let the gem fall.

It hit the floor with a bright crack.

Green light burst out in a ring. It landed lightly on four clawed feet, tail whipping behind it. It was a lizard, as long as a small car, slick and glossy, its scales a deep, poisonous green. Its eyes were slitted and yellow. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air.

Zoey stared at it.

A cool, mechanical voice filled the room, flat and polite.

[Poison Lizard (B Rank)]

Zoey’s heart leapt.

[Consumes materials, mostly blood. Produces a poison capable of killing the organism whose blood it consumed.]

[Class: Predator.]

She let out a squeak. She pressed both hands against her mouth.

"B rank!" she whispered. "I got a B rank! Oh my goodness. It’s a B rank!"

The lizard turned its head and looked at her. She looked back. A small, incredulous smile spread across her face.

’It’s mine. It’s actually mine.’

She crouched and held out a hand. The lizard sniffed her fingers, flicked its tongue once, and let her stroke its snout.

Then she paused.

The smile faded a little. She looked at the description again, lips moving silently.

’It consumes blood. The poison is made from the blood of whatever it feeds on. So it only works on the beasts I fight.’

She thought about it. A poison tailored to each target was powerful. It was clever. But it was limited. It couldn’t kill everything. It was only B rank, after all. A lot of things would shrug it off.

"Man," she muttered. "I wish I’d gone for a higher rank when I whispered."

She straightened and turned toward the glass. "Is it good?"

The woman behind the panel was smiling. "It’s an excellent first beast. B rank is well above average."

"I know, I know. I just..."

"You may leave whenever you’re ready. Please keep in mind that the beast may possess other traits. These creatures were all found in the wild, or in gates. Some of them never used their full abilities before they were captured and turned. You may discover new things as your bond grows together."

Zoey nodded. She felt dizzy. She felt lighter than air.

"Thank you," she said. She bowed quickly, awkwardly. "Thank you so much."

The lizard shrank, folded inward, and returned to a small green gem in her hand. She held it carefully, cupped in both palms, as if it were an egg. Then she turned, walked out through the sliding door, and made her way along the quiet corridor, her steps getting faster and faster.

By the time she reached the main hall, she was practically skipping.

The doors swung open.

Jared was sitting on the same bench, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor. He looked up the moment she appeared. He shot to his feet so fast the bench scraped.

"Well?" he said. His eyes were bright, eager, unusually passionate. "What happened? Did you get it? What is it? What rank?"

Zoey stopped in front of him. She tucked her hands behind her back, hiding the gem. She tilted her head, studied his face, and slowly, solemnly, shook it from side to side.

Jared’s expression collapsed.

"No?"

She shook her head again.

"You didn’t... it didn’t..."

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. A little glint of mischief danced in her eyes.

"You’re lying," he said slowly.

She shrugged.

"Zoey."

She just walked past him, humming, the gem tucked safely in her pocket.

"Zoey! What was it?"

He stood there with his mouth open, watching her go.