A shudder of revulsion swept over him. Tamis Ravitz, the dancer, wasn't human!
"Who are you?" Joel asked in a low hoarse voice. "What are you?"
"Please! Softly!" She lay beside him, relaxed, breathing tremulously.
"What are you?" he repeated.
"I can't tell you."
"You'll tell me or I'll turn you over to the guards. What did you do to your eyes?"
"This." She held up a pair of contact lenses. Realistic pupils and iris, Joel saw, had been moulded into the thin slivers of glass. She slipped them quickly into place. Her eyes looked normal, human. They were a perfect disguise.
"What are you?" Joel asked fiercely.
"I'm a mutation."
"No, you're not. I can tell by your scent! You're not human!"