Challa Read Online Free Page B

jock, who finally realized her attention was directed straight at him. So did others in the crowd.
    “Stand back, everyone! Someone in here has ticked her off big time!”
    Challa shook the cage, reaching between the bars and clawing at the air as if she was trying to get to the man. Several people hurried away. That was a good sign. Most of the crowd still left backed further away. Many turned to see who was the target of her tirade. The jock’s face had gone bleach white. All braggadocio was gone, as well as the smirk.
    Lawson finally saw her intended, and milked the scene for all it was worth. “Sir! Sir! What did you do? What have you done? Get out of here, now!”
    The young man lifted his arms in confusion, shaking his head in denial that he’d done anything to tick off the alien. Lawson played his next hand with consummate skill.
    “Did you say something to her? Could it be your aftershave? Something about you has upset her to the point where your life may be in danger! Go! Security! Please escort that young man to the parking lot immediately! There is no telling if these bars can hold her!”
    Charlie left his post in front of the low stage and made a beeline for the jock, who didn’t argue or try to shake off his firm grip. When they exited the tent, so did the rest of the crowd—as was expected.
    The moment the tent emptied, Challa drew back from the bars and took a deep breath. That was show number one. Her introduction to the locals. Word would spread about the “almost breakout”, and tomorrow night the crowd would be bigger. Noisier. More curious. And then she would put on show number two.
    Her chest felt sore. Challa glanced down at herself. She must have hit the bars a little too hard. It wasn’t the first time she’d end the night with a few bruises, and it wouldn’t be the last. If anyone cared to investigate, the bars were real. The cage was real. Challa, the Alien Girl, was also real, but if the world ever learned that last fact, it would mean the end of her.
    Heavens, she was thirsty. The heat generated by the lights and packed bodies always left her parched. The floodlights remained on, but there would be no more peeks at her tonight. Lawson knew how to stir the crowds, keep them in a frenzy. Give them a little taste now so they’d come back for a second bite. And a third. And a fourth, if the carnival remained around the vicinity that long, but he rarely stayed longer than a weekend. In on a Friday, out by Monday. But if the take was steady and good, Lawson would extend their date by a couple of extra nights.
    She glanced around the cage, but there was only the prop bucket with its fake bloody entrails hanging out of it in the corner next to the stage. Sight of the bucket always made her laugh. However, there was no sign of the bottle of water that was usually hidden under the straw near the door at the back of the cage. Lawson must have forgotten to stash it.
    She started to leave the cage and tent when she sensed someone standing in the shadows at the rear. Thinking it might be one of the customers who’d managed to sneak back inside she launched herself at the bars with a snarl.
    The figure didn’t jump, nor did it make a sound. Instead, it moved closer, limping slightly, until it reached the periphery of light, and she could gradually make out the features.
    It was a man with reddish-brown hair and dark eyes. He had a perplexed look on his face, a face that Challa felt herself drawn to. It spoke of intelligence and maturity, not the kind of look she normally saw on a high school student or even college man. Yet, at the same time, she could see shadows of deep emotional pain.
    He carried himself erect despite favoring his right leg. His whole figure radiated strength and confidence. He was a man who had gone through stress and horrors, and survived. Just like her.
    He took another step toward the cage. His eyes raked over her, his head tilted slightly at an angle, until they locked back