Twenty-Four
Catarine
I pace the confines of the glass box.
My world has closed in.
I can’t think.
The itch scratches at my brain.
Get out of here. Capture a man. Seek relief.
Only one man will give me relief.
Sithe is coming.
He must be coming.
I’m antsy and hot. Burning hot, my skin is crawling off my bones, and I need someone to fix it into place.
I need Sithe.
The Vanadisan commander sets aside his data tablet with a stretch and taps the glass with his knuckle. “You, mental stupid. How did you get that red mark?”
He has to let me out. “It’s an Arrisan bite.”
“Bite?” the commander repeats. “No Arrisan bites like this.”
“They have recessed teeth.”
“But do not use them.”
“I saw him. He bit me. It made this mark.”
The commander looks at the handler.
The handler shrugs. “M
