Read Online Entangled by Amy Rose Capetta - Free Book Online Page A

almost every male in creation, regardless of species.
    â€œWhat dock, sweet-arms?”
    Cade flashed a four with her fingers, then a two. She could understand Saea well enough, but when it came to speaking it, she sounded like an ancient woman with a stutter and a head cold.
    â€œForty-two is up the main concourse, then down the left-hand side, all the way to the back.”
    She nodded and smiled her thanks at the Saea man, picked up her pack and her guitar case, and hurried onto the concourse. There were more Saea in that crowd, and lots of native Andanans whose slithering arms reminded her of Mr. Smithjoneswhite. She had hundreds of fingers to avoid. The concourse rose and Cade looked down to the crowds on the lower floor—the scuttling crablike Mems and the faintly colored clouds called Remembrists.
    Cade couldn’t help but wonder at the fantastic spread of nonhumans. She hoped she wouldn’t run into a Lilin, who could taste other people’s emotions. It would be able to tell how scared Cade was of going into space. A dark and bitter taste, no doubt, that lingered on the tongue.
    Dock forty-two was one of the smallest in the spaceport, tucked away behind two workships, great and hulking, bottle-shaped and silver. The ship behind them was nothing so brass. It was a perfect sphere, but its beauty ended there. Fine, downy fur covered it—half gray, half brown.
    â€œGreat,” Cade muttered. “A hairball that travels to space.”
    Standing on the scratchy pink walkway, a Hatchum stared out at the middle distance of the spaceport, eyes calm but quick. Cade couldn’t help but snatch in a breath. She’d never seen a Hatchum before. They were rare on Andana. This one looked young—older than Lee and Cade, but still young—and almost human, but taller and thinner, with every angle a bit sharper, every curve more intense.
    He looked up, and his gray-brown eyes skittered over Cade. He was waiting for something.
    She went straight up to him and slung the pack forward so it dangled between them. The Hatchum looked down at her with a mild questioning in his mild-colored eyes. Cade wondered what he saw.
    Lee must have thrown a wild kick, because the imprint of a shoe came through the canvas.
    â€œI. Um. Have something for you,” Cade said.
    The Hatchum arched his eyebrows at her. That was it. No
hello
or
what-the-snug-are-you-talking-about.
Cade found herself reaching for more of a reaction.
    â€œYou’ll want to see this.”
    She beckoned the Hatchum over to a spot behind the curve of the ship. He moved light on his feet, and kept a careful distance. Cade held the sack with one hand and tugged at the string with the other.
    Lee was folded as close to in-half as a human can get, her chest doubled to her legs. Cade and Lee had tossed all of the nonessential items out of the pack, and the rest were stuffed into their clothes—so it was just Lee down there, smiling up at the Hatchum. She could have lit all of Dana City in a blackout.
    â€œRennik!” she cried. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
    He didn’t even double-blink. “And I was expecting you, an hour ago, not stuffed into a bag.”
    Lee’s laughter shook the pack, and Cade felt it travel up into her shoulders.
    â€œFair enough.”
    Rennik shook his head, like maybe this was something that had happened before. Or happened all the time.
    â€œIs there a place I can put this down?” Cade asked. She was somewhat more than human, but it didn’t change certain realities. “My arms do get tired at some point.”
    â€œIn the hold,” Rennik said, pointing one of his long, four-knuckled fingers up the walkway. “All cargo in the hold.”
    â€œWho is he calling cargo?” Lee cried, muffled by the canvas.
    Cade started walking, but Rennik grabbed her guitar case and set it on the ground. Cade picked it up. Rennik grabbed it again. Set it on the ground.
    He was