Free The Ophelia Prophecy by Sharon Lynn Fisher

This was not by accident. Pax’s father had founded Sustainable Transgenics, with its reproductive advisors and in vitro labs, for the sole purpose of preserving the Manti as a humanoid species.
    Instead of feeling kinship with the beast they couldn’t quite see, he felt revulsion. None of the Manti liked to be reminded of what they could become if they weren’t careful about their breeding behavior. He was keenly aware of his own hypocrisy, embracing the mutations that made him stronger, faster, and more sensually perceptive, while reviling those that caused distasteful psychological and physical traits.
    The Manti hated their parent race. They also wanted to remain as like them as they could without casting off their own identity. From a historical perspective, it was not unprecedented. But that didn’t make it easier to live with.
    Iris twisted her slender neck from one side to the other, trying to get a better perspective on that living, rustling corner of the shed.
    “Forget it,” he said. “Let’s concentrate on getting out of here.”
    “It might be dangerous, Pax.”
    “That’s my point . Now help me.” He tugged at the cords that bound his wrists to the beam above, and it creaked in protest.
    “Stop doing that. You’ll pull it down around our ears. I’ll try to work loose. I don’t suppose you have a plan for after that?”
    “You go for the ship. I’ll go for Asha.”
    A prickly silence permeated the air around him, and he glanced at her.
    She stared at him. “Have you lost your mind? We haven’t had enough trouble from her?”
    “More than enough.”
    “Then leave her. We’ll come back later and deal with them all at once.”
    He shook his head, knowing he deserved every particle of scorn firing at him from her large irises.
    “What is it with you and this woman?”
    I have no fucking idea was not an answer likely to gain him any ground, so he didn’t bother. “Come on,” he said, giving his restraints another tug. “Let’s get these off.”
    A sudden bang at the back of the shed jerked them both to attention.
    “Lord of the—”
    A dark shape shot up from the straw, rushing forward and hurtling between them. Iris gave a startled cry, and Pax gripped the beam and raised himself, kicking at the creature with his legs. But it kept right on charging at the door, scrambling close to the ground like it was wounded. Brown cellophane wings cloaked its back—most likely not functional. Human transgenics were far too heavy for flight.
    The chain held, but the hinges didn’t. A shriek sounded in the garden as the creature scuttled out the doorway. A few meters into the yard it halted, seeming to shrink and draw itself inward. Wings lifted from the hard, dark shell of its torso and began to vibrate.
    The wasp lifted from the ground.
    “Not good,” snapped Iris.
    About that much they were in agreement. “Watch your head,” he warned.

 
    TRANSGENIC
     
    Before Iris could protest, Pax had thrown all his weight into the rope that bound his wrists to the overhead timber. The beam held, but the rope loosened enough to allow him to slide to the end and yank the beam free from the supporting timber. Iris swore as the beam dropped, bringing down half the roof with it. Pax waded through thatch to Iris, using her arm spikes to sever the remaining rope. Then he freed her wrists and they exited the rubble.
    Father Carrick intercepted them outside, ax held aloft. A hunched old woman hovered behind him, watching them with wide eyes. Finn and Alice stood a few meters away, looking significantly less threatening now that their captives were at large.
    “You don’t have time to waste on us,” Pax warned them.
    Iris stepped between Pax and the priest, raising her arms and wings in warning. Carrick tossed his head to clear dark waves of hair from his eyes.
    The resemblance between the two—both slender and ropey, light skin contrasting with dark hair and brows—created a pleasing symmetry. The priest