The president’s image faded and was replaced with a fuzzy picture, as if taken from very far away. Satellite photos taken without sunlight. Nevertheless, in the grainy picture, Kai could make out rows and rows of men standing. He squinted, and another picture flickered onto the screen, closer up, showing the backs of four of the men from up above, but, Kai noticed with a shock, these were not men. Their shoulders were too wide, too hunched. Their barely discernible profiles too stretched. Their backs were covered in what appeared to be fur.
Another picture came on the screen. It showed a half dozen of the creatures from the front, their faces a cross between man and beast. Their noses and jaws protruded awkwardly from their heads, their lips twisted into perpetual grimaces. White spots erupted from their mouths—Kai could not see them clearly, could not tell for sure, but they gave him the distinct impression of fangs.
“What are these creatures?” asked Queen Camilla.
“Mutants,” answered President Vargas. “We believe they are genetically engineered Lunars. This is a project that we assume has been going on for many decades. We have estimated six hundred of them in this holding alone, but we suspect there are more, likely in the network of lava tubes beneath the moon’s surface. There could be thousands—tens of thousands for all we know.”
“And do they possess magic?” It was a hesitant question posed by the Canadian province rep.
The picture disappeared, showing the American president again. “We do not know. We have not been able to see them train or do anything other than stand in formation and march in and out of the caverns.”
“They are Lunar,” said Queen Camilla. “If they are not dead, then they possess magic.”
“We have no proof that they kill their ungifted infants,” interrupted Torin. “And as exciting as it is to look at these pictures and create wild speculations, we must keep in mind that Queen Levana has not yet attacked Earth, and we have no evidence that these creatures are intended for such an attack.”
“What else could they be intended for?” said Governor-General Williams.
“Manual labor?” said Torin, daring anyone to deny the possibility. The governor-general sniffed but said nothing. “We should, of course, be prepared should a war come to pass. But in the meantime, our priority needs to be forming an alliance with Luna, not alienating it with paranoia and distrust.”
“No,” said Kai, propping his chin on his fist. “I think this is the perfect time for paranoia and distrust.”
Torin scowled. “Your Highness.”
“It seems you’ve all missed the very obvious point of those pictures.”
President Vargas puffed out his chest. “What do you mean?”
“You say they’ve probably been building this army for decades? Perfecting whatever science they’ve used to create these…creatures?”
“So it would seem.”
“Then why have we only noticed it now?” He waved his hand at the screen where the images had been. “Hundreds of them, standing out in the open as if they have nothing better to do. Waiting to have their pictures taken.” He folded his arms on top of the table, watching as uncertain expressions turned toward him. “Queen Levana wanted us to see her spook army. She wanted us to take notice.”
“You think she’s trying to threaten us?” said Prime Minister Kamin.
Kai shut his eyes, seeing the rows of beasts fresh in his mind. “No. I think she’s trying to threaten me.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE HOVER RUMBLED TO A STOP OUTSIDE THE QUARANTINE. Cinder flew out of the side hatch and immediately reeled back, covering her nose with her elbow. Her gut heaved at the stench, rotting flesh intensified by the steamy afternoon heat. Just outside the warehouse’s entrance, a group of med-droids were loading dead bodies into a hover to be carted away, their forms bloated and discolored, each with a red slit in the wrist. Cinder looked away, keeping her eyes averted and her breath held as she slid past them into the warehouse.
The sunlight turned from blaring to murky, caught by the green sheeting on the windows along the ceiling. The quarantine had been near empty before; now it was overflowing with victims—every age, every gender. Buffeting fans on the ceiling did little to dispel the sweltering heat or the smell of death. The air was heavy with it.
Med-droids buzzed between the beds, but there were not enough of them to tend to all the sick.
Cinder slipped down an aisle, gasping for shallow breaths against her sleeve. She spotted Peony’s green brocade blanket and ran to the foot of the bed. “Peony!”
When Peony didn’t stir, she reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. The blanket was soft, warm, but the bulk beneath it didn’t move.
Shaking, Cinder grasped the edge of the comforter and pulled it back.
Peony whimpered, a mild protest, which sent relieved chills across Cinder’s arms. She slumped down beside the bed.
“Stars, Peony. I came as soon as I heard.”