Read Online Species by Yvonne Navarro - Free Book Online

small about it; it stretched from one wall to the other, completely obscuring the upper back ceiling of the john. From where she stood, Angela could see bubbles of reddish fluid flowing under its glassy surface, fanning outward in a pattern like broken capillaries. She gawked at it, too awestruck to be frightened. Something indistinguishable shifted beneath its glistening shell and came close to the surface, breaking Angela from her immobility. She stepped closer, trying to get a better look—was she crazy or had she just seen a recognizable face in there?
    A hand exploded from its side and seized her face, long alien fingers moving faster and stronger than Angela could have imagined. Her feet left the floor and before she could scream, her head and neck were yanked into the ragged hole. Her body whipped ineffectually in midair as she fought for freedom, then was wrenched sideways from the neck down. She trembled slightly, then was still. After a moment the unseen hold on her released its grip, and Angela Cardoza dropped to the floor. A three-inch laceration in her forehead bled freely, making wide scarlet streaks in the greenish ooze layering her slack face.
    Above her cooling body, the chrysalis began to break apart, cracks spidering in all directions along its glossy surface. Within the cavity where Conductor A. Cardoza had found death, there was motion, an unhurried shuffling, then pressure. Like an exquisite butterfly emerging from its cocoon, a new Sil pushed her way free. Headfirst, then arms, reaching up and around to the top of the chrysalis and swinging herself carefully out and down to stand next to Angela’s corpse, reborn a fully grown and beautiful woman.
    She sniffed the air and her eyes, steely blue beneath a lovely halo of blond hair, sharpened as she studied her surroundings and the body at her feet. With slow deliberation, Sil bent and began undressing the dead conductor.

11
    P ress had been here before but he let the aide they’d sent to greet him on the helicopter lead him to Dr. Fitch’s office. The guy was new and Press supposed he was polite enough, but he disliked having a baby-sitter assigned to him when he’d been in and out of the compound more times than—what was the man’s name? Robert—had gone to the bathroom since becoming Fitch’s number-one assistant. Speaking of aides, Press wondered what had happened to Kyle Jacobson. Now he’d been a nice guy, always willing to share a joke to put a lighter side on things. Besides, the main building of the compound was mostly gray glass and metal cylinders connected by causeways, easy enough to get around in once you understood the layout. It was the concrete outer outbuildings that could be a pain in the neck.
    Finally, Fitch’s office. The room was as stuffy as the doctor himself, Press thought, nothing but paper and business and ten-pound black binders. Not a touch of warmth in the whole setup—even the chairs were uncomfortable. With all the money that got poured into this research center, Fitch could have easily decorated with some wood and an upholstered couch. Stepping into the room, Press stopped short; Robert The Aide hadn’t said anything about anyone being at this meeting besides Press and Fitch, but two other men and a woman—a very pretty woman—were already seated in chairs around Fitch’s desk.
    The doctor himself wasn’t there, and there were two more empty chairs. Press headed for the spot next to the woman, but paused before dropping onto it. “Are these seats assigned?” he asked with a facetious grin.
    The lady smiled back and shook her head. As he sat Press made a quick, furtive examination of the other two men. One was a hefty young black guy with soft, dark eyes, rounded features, and a quick, childish smile. The other, a dark-haired handsome man hardly older than himself, was watching Press and everybody else and cocked an eyebrow when he met Press’s steady eyes. They looked over at the woman simultaneously;