The Girl With Green Scales: A Gen M Novel

Chapter 15: Captain Light

It's dark as Ms. Karuthers maneuvers the hovercycle into the coach house at EverMight. Etch's shelf of spare parts with wires sticking out of them casts twisted shadows in the moonlight that creeps through the open doors.

"Etchemin?" Ms. Karuthers calls. "Where is that boy? Honestly, what's going to become of him? He can't stay here forever. Come, come," she says to me. Whatever moment of bonding we had in Mange Town, she's back to her brusque self. My mind races with questions about Anton. My heart relives the feeling of his arms holding me tight. My lips tingle inside the muzzle. My gut aches where he kicked me.

He was confused and scared, I remind myself.

I should be too, but I feel like I can do anything. I flex my new lizard arm, channeling its strength. That sense of power evaporates as I trip over my mismatched feet. Ms. Karuthers catches me and sets me right. I glare at my clumsy dreg leg.

"Don't ask for adaptive footwear," Ms. Karuthers says as we approach the mansion. "It's a crutch, and we want to encourage your body to finish what it's started."

I ignore her. Just as my eyesight has intensified, so has my hearing. I catch a more interesting conversation coming from inside the mansion.

"Where is she?" a woman demands. Ice clatters in a glass, followed by liquid being poured.

"I'm sure she's doing the best she can," another woman replies. "It's just that her best is never good enough."

"Karuthers has more successful Manifestations than anyone," a man says. Cards are shuffled then dealt.

Ms. Karuthers' face is unmoved, clearly not hearing any of this. She opens the door and guides me inside.

A group of adults is gathered in the parlor off the foyer. An infocast plays on a screen above the fireplace. The infocast informant is dressed in a bright floral jacket, lacking the somber tones I'm used to in the boroughs, and like many here, doesn't wear an emblem to denote his station.

"Authenticators have confirmed that Second Wife Demoiselle DuVent fended off a sharknado at last night's gala to celebrate the recent milestone in oceanic rehabilitation," the informant says. Images play of a gaunt woman in strips of flowing silk. She stands atop a rusted glowing torch held by a giant hand. Next to her is a woman in a black unitard; she wears a white mask with a painted, snarling face. They grasp hands and wind swirls about them, flying toward a tornado filled with snapping mutated sharks.

Ms. Karuthers steps in front of me as the infocaster reappears on the screen. "The Bureau of Atmospheric Integrity is investigating to determine if the phenomenon was a natural occurrence or the result of mad science. It comes at the perfect time for Second Minister Fighterman; his wife's actions have boosted his popularity rating as he pursues his bid for the seat of First Minister. We'll have more truenews right after these—"

Someone turns off the infocast; the screen turns into a painting of a vase of flowers; all eyes turn to us. A muscular man with a square face pauses in a game of solitaire; he's dressed in a green tracksuit with the word COACH on it. A woman who looks like a walking skeleton in a wrapping of desiccated flesh looks up from her on-the-go; she wears a pristine white gown and a jaunty cap with a red cross on it. A heavyset woman with rubbery pink skin sets down a glass. She wears a blouse, skirt, and a jacket with the EverMight crest. My increasingly sensitive sense of smell burns with the scent of alcohol.

"Good," Ms. Karuthers says to them, "you're back from your field trips."

"And you're back from yours," the desiccated woman says. "Seems like you've created more problems than you've solved."