In Someone Else's Skin by Margo Collins (good non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

But I did realize that we were headed back into the downtown area. “So where are we going?”

Salara glanced into the round glass that served as rearview mirror. “We are headed to one of the municipal buildings. I have a friend who works there and can probably get you papers, as long as we catch her before she’s done for the day.”

I nodded and leaned back against the seat I occupied, but her answer didn’t soothe the tiny, niggling doubt in the back of my mind. If we were headed to one of the municipal buildings, why hadn’t we already stopped the first time we drove past it?

I sat up straight and watched out my window warily.

If there was something wrong with this situation, I wanted to be ready.

Daddy always told me not to hitchhike. Maybe I should have followed his advice even more closely when traveling on a foreign planet.

But if we hadn’t accepted the ride from Salara, we never would have gotten into the city so easily. And Coit was right. We were going to have to have food and water, basic supplies to get us through while I practiced opening a portal back to our own world.

Salara’s low, sporty car pulled into a garage-like of structure and we snaked our way up to the top floor. She pulled to a stop inside the circular outlines of a parking space.

“When we get in there,” she said, turning sideways to take all of us in a glance, “it’ll be best if you let me do the talking. I know what needs to be said and how to say to get you what you need.”

The three of us glanced at each other, but really, what other choice did we have?

Depending on the kindness of strangers might not be something I was entirely comfortable with—but from the moment my adoptive father had found me, I had been doing exactly that my whole life.

“I need to make a call first,” Salara announced before popping open her door and sliding out.

The mobile device she held to her ear was different from those in our world, but it was still recognizable as a phone.

“This is Salara of Caln Lissa,” I heard her say. “I need to speak to Amalya.”

She paused for a beat, then said, “I have visitors to introduce her to.” Beat. “Five of them. Three adults. Two juveniles.”

When she hung up from the call, she waved us all out. We opened the doors and stepped out of the car.

With the push of a button, the adult lamia shut down her automobile and led us in through a circular door to a long hallway.

Despite the rounded walls and ceiling that curved outward, the hallway we moved through wasn’t all that different from ones on earth—with the exception of being more ornately decorated. The walls were covered in glittering images, a mosaic of tiles made from some metal I wasn’t entirely certain I recognized.

Salara took us past several small doors and around the corner, where the hallway dead-ended at a set of giant carved wooden doors

I skidded to a halt when I realized the door was guarded by two male lamias, both standing more or less at attention. One had a snake’s tail and a human torso. The other had a human body and a viper’s head.

“This doesn’t feel right.” I began inching backwards.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Salara said. “The guards are ceremonial. They’re just supposed to make sure anyone who shows up has an appointment.”

I looked at the two guards, trying to remember that I was the outsider here and my customs were very likely to be different from their own. Especially since everyone here had grown up with other lamias around.

I glanced from side to side, checking in with Shane and Coit. Shane gave a little nod. Coit simply shrugged, a cheerful grin on his face.

Something about the whole situation made my stomach hurt and my skin crawl, but I was not alone.

I reached up with one hand to rest it on the baby lamias, taking comfort in knowing they were safe from werewolves.

The boy bumped my finger with his head, and they both stayed still.

Maybe there wasn’t really anything different or dangerous about the guards at this room. Perhaps I was looking for danger where there wasn’t any.

I nodded. “Fine.”

As we drew closer to the ornate circular door, I realized it was carved with what looked to be battle scenes. Giant lamias towering over armies amassed below them.

I wasn’t entirely certain what that might portend, though it suggested to me that lamias might really have been as vengeful as all the old earth stories had implied. There might have been a real reason for the shifters to destroy all the lamias when they did.

Everyone I’d talked to had agreed most lamias were dangerous.

I hoped that this meeting with whoever the official was that Salara knew would help to change that evaluation for me.

As we drew parallel to the guards and stood waiting right outside the doorway, Salara said, “We’re here to see Amalya. I’m Salara of Clan Lissa.”

The guard on the left, the one who had a snake’s head but a regular body, tapped in something on the mobile device he held. He waited for a moment, and when it dinged, he said, “She’s expecting you.”

With a push of a button, the doors opened into a room that was darker than the hallway outside, and I followed Salara in even as I was blinking my eyes and attempting to see more clearly.

The doors behind us swung closed with a final-sounding thump.

The enormous room we stepped into was shaped like a viper’s skull. We entered at the bottom, where the room flared out to either side. The walls angled in, narrowing to a point. This room was the culmination of the entire building, I realized. We had walked through the body of the snake and into the head.

The walls here, like those in