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  He raised an eyebrow. "I see." He looked down at his restraints, then the door. "I have to follow you."

  Sarah swallowed, as the anger swirled in his eyes, again. "I'm sorry."

  "Stop apologizing," he snarled.

  She jerked back from the sudden fury. "Then, I don't know what to say."

  His lips curved into a smile and it was more frightening than the glare. He shook his head slowly. "Lead the way."

  His words carried a threat, she was sure. The thought of having him at her back made her stomach knot. She took a deep breath and turned her back to him. Nothing happened. She waited a full minute, not daring to breath or move. He was silent behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. He raised an eyebrow, still standing in the same place. She let out the breath she was holding and walked to the door.

  The Kitchen. She chewed on her bottom lip. It was one of the doors in the Main Hall, but her single glance at the map was days ago. Fear and shame battled in her mind, as she forced the words out of her throat.

  "I don't know where the kitchen is," she said quietly. She heard him stop behind her.

  "Off the main hall." Irritation, but not amusement.

  Sarah sighed and nodded. "Thank you."

  He did not reply.

  She started to glance at him, and then thought better of it. She stepped out of the cell. For such a large person, he moved gracefully, his footsteps silent. She thought of the Dem in the main hall, the fluid way all of them seemed to move. She glanced over her shoulder. Farran's eyes fastened on her. His movements were not the only thing that seemed predatory. She jerked her eyes away.

  The scanner on the wall next to the doorway let out a soft purr, as it accepted her hand print. She stepped through the doorway, and immediately sighed at the warmer air. She turned to see Farran watching her. She ducked her head, sensing his attention was not a good thing. She felt it when he looked away.

  She led the way down the narrow hallway. With the Dem behind her, the space seemed smaller. The back of her neck tingled from the weight of his gaze. She slouched, as if it would relieve the pressure. It only made him seem larger.

  "The doorway is ninth on the left," he suddenly spoke. It made her jump.

  She looked at him and nodded. "Thank you."

  He did not reply.

  She pressed her hand to the panel next to the door, almost used to the stretch of her fingers. She hurried into the main hall the moment the door opened, the larger space momentarily taking the edge off her tension. She paused and scanned the room. At least twenty doors lined the far wall. She felt the gaze of several dozen people, as she counted the doorways.

  A soft sound from behind her broke her concentration. She looked at the table closest to her. Three Dems stared at her with obvious interest. She watched their gazes move past her to Farran, then back to her. The spark of curiosity increased.

  "We are late." Farran's voice made her jump.

  The watching Dems appeared very interested in the conversation. Her gaze touched on each one, never lingering long. The darkness moved in their eyes, something hungry and feral. She fought the urge to cringe away.

  "Now," Farran hissed from behind her.

  Sarah jerked and stepped forward. She avoided the curious Dems, weaving through the tables to the opposite side of the room. Run. The urge to obey her mind was almost overwhelming, but somehow she knew it would be the worst kind of mistake. She fixed her eyes on the door and kept her pace quick, but steady.

  Farran was silent behind her, as all of the Dems in the room seemed to follow their progress. Their combined gazes were almost a weight. The ninth door held a small sign. Sarah glanced at it, and let out a relieved sigh. Kitchen. She pulled open the door and stepped inside, vaguely aware of Farran closing it behind them. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  "I am not sure how long you will survive here," he said offhandedly.

  She turned to look at him, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

  He gave her a dark look. "I need to start my kitchen duty." He brushed past her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her heartbeat settling to normal. He was her responsibility. Hers alone. After a moment, she followed him.

  "You want to explain to me why you're late?" a voice yelled from somewhere out of sight.

  She broke into a jog. She entered the store room in time to see the lead supervisor approach Farran. The Dem had almost a foot on the human, but Keane held an electroshock gun. He fired the weapon, and she tried not to wince. His lips curved into a cruel smile as Farran stilled, the metal darts puncturing him in the side. He slowly turned his head to look at the human.

  Sarah's eyes widened at the expression of sudden fear on the supervisor's face, all of the bravado vanishing in an instant. As she approached, Farran took a step toward the human.

  "Dem," she said quietly.

  He ignored her, advancing on the supervisor. Even with his wrists chained to the harness, he had enough movement to close his hands around the human's throat.

  Sarah ran the last few feet. "Dem!" She gripped his elbow and jerked. She blinked when it had no effect. Her eyes moved to Keane's face.

  He struggled for breath, his eyes wide and terrified. His gaze moved to her, and she saw the silent plea. A thin, wheezing wail forced its way out of his tortured throat. She tore her eyes away from his red face and jerked at Farran's arm again. "Farran!"

  He let go of the supervisor so fast, she stumbled backwards. Her shoes lost traction on the kitchen tiles and she crashed to the ground, a table edge gouging into her hip. For a moment, she sat perfectly still, her hip throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Farran shifted and her eyes jerked up to meet his. He gave her a dark look, but did not speak. Instead, he glanced at the supervisor. Sarah's eyes followed his gaze.

  The victim already faded to the background, Keane eyed her dangerously. His gaze flicked between the two of them. "Handler Mackenzie," he said, voice rough.

  She climbed to her feet painfully, still keeping an eye on the silent Dem. "Supervisor Keane." She took a step toward him, smoothing down the front of her suit. She felt Farran's eyes on her. "I am so sorry."

  The Dem shifted, again.

  She saw Keane's eyes flick to him. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a mocking smile.

  She licked her lips and moved toward him. "I am very sorry for this misunderstanding." When she stood between the Dem and the supervisor, she glanced at Farran. She quickly looked away.

  The supervisor's sharp laugh made her frown. "Sorry?" he rasped. She watched his eyes move past her to the Dem. "That thing nearly killed me." When she did not reply, he sneered at her. "You have no control over it, at all."

  Sarah flinched. "I'm sorry." She fought not to cringe at the low growl that came from the Dem behind her. "It won't happen, again."

  "Oh, I know it won't. You are out of here, Mackenzie."

  Sarah looked at him with wide eyes. "But-"

  "But nothing," Keane interrupted. "That thing is dangerous. Someone better than you could control it."

  Sarah dropped her gaze. "You know there's no one else," she said quietly. She could not fail. She was the only one. For a moment, the room was silent. She peeked up at Keane to see him glaring at the Dem. "Please."

  Keane's eyes moved to her and narrowed. "You'll have to make it up to me."

  She heard Farran take a step toward her. She slouched, but did not turn to look at him. "Alright." Her eyes moved to the darkening bruises around Keane's throat. "You won't report this?"

  "And you will owe me one," he confirmed. She tried to ignore the crawling sensation on her skin.

  At her nod, he turned away, walking toward the doorway to the Main Hall. When he was out of sight, she turned to look at the Dem.

  His gaze was unreadable. "You are foolish."

  "I had no choice," she whispered.

  His eyes slowly lightened to green. When they reached jade, he shook his head at her. "Follow me." He walked passed.

  "I'm sorry," sh
e said, when he was nearly to the door.

  He paused. Stiffly, he turned his head to look at her. "Stop apologizing." For a moment, it seemed he would say more. Then, he shook his head and passed through the doorway.

  Sarah sighed. She wiped her palms on the rough fabric of her suit. With a deep breath, she walked toward the doorway.

  The Corridor's kitchen functioned with the steady flow of a well-oiled machine. With the amount of people, it should have felt crowded, but it did not. She paused just inside the room to watch the activity. At least a dozen Dems worked over stoves, scrubbed at sinks, and prepared bins of food on the long counters. It was controlled chaos. Her eyes moved over them, skipping over the brunets to search the various shades of blond.

  "Handler Mackenzie, right?" a voice asked from her right.

  Sarah jumped. She quickly looked at the man. His eyes were focused on the Dems, but he continued speak to her as if she had answered.

  "I know the first day can be a bit daunting," he mumbled. His gaze moved around the room, and she followed his gaze.

  She suddenly noticed the smaller figures that moved amongst the Dems. Of average height, the handlers looked undersized as they went about their duties. Each one seemed to hover around one of the Dems, even while watching the group as a whole.

  "That one is my charge," the handler beside her spoke, pointing toward the Dems. Sarah followed the line of his arm to a black-haired Dem at the sinks.

  The moment her eyes landed on the Dem, he turned to look at her. She watched his light grey gaze flick from her to the handler beside her. After a moment, he turned back to the sinks, and Sarah let out the breath she had been holding.

  "That's one thing you need to get used to," the handler continued. "Their hearing is very acute. They can hear through the Sound Screen, so hearing you from across the room is easy."

  Sarah gasped. She searched the room for Farran, questions whipping through her mind. He could hear through the SS. So, he heard everything she said before she dropped the screen or opened the door. As if he heard her thoughts, when her eyes found the Dem at the counter, he was already staring at her.

  "They can see in complete darkness," the handler beside her continued to speak, completely unaware of her inner turmoil. "The generators down here can sometimes shut down during working hours. I admit to using my Dem to find my way in the dark," the man beside her laughed, as if he were telling a joke.

  Sarah stared at Farran with wide eyes, only partially listening to the other handler. He gave her a darkly amused look and turned back to the counter. Sarah continued to stare at his back.

  "So, how have you been getting along with your charge?" His question made her jerk her eyes to look at the man beside her. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  "Not well," she mumbled.

  He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?" His eyes moved to scan the room. "Which one are you in charge of?"

  She sighed and looked at Farran. "The blond at the counter. The one on the left." She glanced at the man beside her, watching him scan the Dems at the counter.

  "Tradis or Farran?"

  "Farran," she answered quietly. She did not miss the flinch from the other handler. When she looked at him, he was staring at her.

  "What level is he, now?"

  Sarah looked away from his mildly uncomfortable expression. "Black."

  "The only one," he said unnecessarily. When she did not comment, he continued. "Motlin is level blue." She watched him looked around the room. "I became his handler four years ago."

  Sarah followed his gaze, then turned her attention to him. He was several inches taller than her, but she did not have to crane her neck to meet his eyes. She watched him run a hand through his messy brown hair. She hid a smile, when it stood on end.

  "If you need some pointers, I would be happy to help out," he said quietly, suddenly turning his head to look at her.

  Sarah nodded. "I would like that." She glanced at the Dems. "I am off to a bad start, I think." She jumped at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. She looked over at the handler to see him smiling warmly.

  "It's your first day. The first week is rocky for everyone. Don't worry." He dropped his hand. "You'll get used to it." He started to step away from her, then stopped. "I forgot to introduce myself." He held out a hand.

  Sarah took it. "Handler Mackenzie," she said softly. After a moment, she added, "You can call me, Sarah."

  He nodded. "Good to meet you, Sarah. Handler Williams. You can call me, Luke. I'll be your immediate supervisor down here." He gave her a bright smile and dropped his hand. "Time to take out the chow."

  Sarah watched him walk toward the group of Dems, limping slightly. Again, her eyes found Farran. He turned away from the counter with a large food bin in his hands. From her place, it was impossible to see what it held. She slowly followed Luke across the room.

  "Single file," Luke said calmly.

  Sarah watched the Dems step into a neat line. Several of them looked in her direction, before turning their gaze toward the doorway. She watched them move away, and looked around. The room seemed far larger without the Dems. The remaining handlers followed the line though the doorway.

  For a moment, Sarah stood in the empty room alone. She looked from the tall counters to the high cabinets and quailed. The room was not the only thing that seemed built to make her feel small and insignificant. Her eyes moved to the impossibly tall doorways. As she shoved her hands in her pockets, someone cleared their throat.

  "You coming?"

  Sarah jerked her gaze to the door. Luke stood in the doorway, staring at her. She blinked at him.

  "You would be helpful out here, Sarah," he finally said, breaking the silence.

  Sarah nodded. "I'm sorry." She looked around. "I was just thinking." She watched him raise an eyebrow and smile.

  "You can think later." He motioned toward the doorway. "I need someone to supervise the serving knives." He laughed when her eyes widened. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

  "Alright," she said softly.

  His mouth opened, as if he would add something. He shook his head and turned away. "I'll show you what to do."

  She hurried across the room, catching up to him before he vanished from view. Her eyes widened at the cafeteria they entered. She saw Luke watching her reaction from the corner of his eye, but she could not stop herself from gaping at the room.

  Blank walls rose to the sharply angled ceiling. Dozens of tables dotted the stone floor. Some round and some rectangular, most were filled with handlers. Her eyes moved over the humans and she frowned. The Dems stood in small groups, ignoring the men seated around them.

  "They don't eat?" she asked quietly. Luke's laugh made her jerk her head around to look at him.

  He grinned widely. "How many days of training did you miss?" At her blank look, he laughed. "They don't eat." The smile slowly faded from his face when she did not laugh.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly, looking away. "I didn't know." She heard him curse under his breath.

  "Hey, I'm sorry, Sarah. I wasn't thinking."

  She jerked at the feel of his hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him. "It's nothing." She forced a smile. "What did you want me to do?"

  He frowned, but let her change the subject. "That table holds the serving spoons and knives."

  She followed the line of his hand to a metal, folding table against the wall. "Alright." She gave him a slight smile.

  "Contrary to popular belief, they aren't on the verge of violence every second," he said, as she turned away. "No. It's more like every minute."

  Sarah paused mid-step and looked over her shoulder at him. "You're joking?" At his nod, she sighed.

  Luke's words rolled around in her head. The missed training, the gaps in knowledge. She tried to put it out of her mind, along with the ache in her hip. There was no time for pain.

  The Dems did not turn to look at her, as she walked behind them down the line of the serving table. After a moment, she
felt her muscles relax slightly. The much larger beings all but ignored her presence. She stood by the small table, awkward under the gaze of the other handlers.

  Suddenly, as if under an unspoken order, the handlers stood from their tables and approached the serving area. She watched them form a line, each grabbing a freshly washed tray, and approach the waiting Dems. Sarah felt a gaze on her and looked around.

  "A spoon?"

  She jerked at the roughly spoken question, and looked up to see a Dem towering over her. His gaze moved from her to the tray beside her and back. Sarah blinked at him.

  "A spoon, please?" His tone cooled slightly, as she stayed immobile. His eyes darkened from a light blue to navy.

  Sarah jerked her gaze away from him, as another of the Dems shifted. She looked over to see them all staring at her. Her gaze quickly found Farran. His eyes narrowed. She blindly reached out behind her and presented the first utensil her fingers caught. She looked down at it as she held it out to the waiting Dem.

  "Thank you," he said, irritation obvious in his tone.

  Sarah cringed. "You're welcome." She looked away from the serving fork in his hand and glanced at Farran, again. His eyes sparkled with amusement at her expense. She jerked her eyes away.

  "A knife?"

  She glanced up at the next Dem in line and nodded quickly. Motlin, she thought he was called. She grabbed a small serving knife. Before she could hand it to him, he made a sharp sound in his throat.

  "For roast," he said.

  Her eyes moved to his spot at the serving table and she bit her lip. "Sorry," she mumbled.

  She did not miss Farran's twitch, or the sharp inhale from the Dem in front of her. She looked up at him and her eyes widened. His gray gaze studied her with interest. A moment later, his eyes shifted to her right. He cleared his throat.

  "A knife?" he repeated.

  Sarah followed his gaze to see Farran watching them. His gaze flicked to her and she looked away. She scanned the table of utensils and grabbed a long, sharp knife. When she held it out to the Dem, he took it quickly and turned away.

  "Thank you," he tossed over his shoulder, as if it were an afterthought.