It actually happened. The plan to expose the king and the horrors of his duplicity now have a spotlight shone directly on them.
Maybe I should be happy that justice is being served, but all I feel is a flat nothing buzzing through my brain. It’s too much. Maybe it’s not enough. I’m not sure at this point.
My teeth are ringing, even as I run my tongue over them.
I’m speechless as Nurse Jen feathers a tattooed hand through her short, blood-red hair. “Never thought I’d see the day the king betrayed his country.”
I sit up more fully and push out a groan. Everything hurts. I’m stiff all over. “How long was I out?”
“A week.”
I balk at her. “A week? I thought I was tasered. That can’t last more than a few seconds.” But as I scratch my scalp and glance around, I realize I was at least out long enough for them to move me from the visitation area to the nurse’s station. But a week?
“Sure were.” She leans forward to check my pulse, flashing me a shot of the ink covering her forearm.
Man, she must’ve led an interesting life. Her tattoos are of all different things: a black cat, a tree, a purple infinity sign, a woman flexing with her crimson hair all fancy and curly, a watercolor book design, and various stars strewn in the mix.
My modeling contract forbids tattoos, but if I could get one, I wonder what I would choose.
Nurse Jen catches me staring and smirks. “The tasers here respond to magic. The more magic a person has, the longer the currents knock said person out. Gives everyone a chance to escape the danger.” She gives me another few sips of water. “I’ve only ever heard of someone passing out for half a day before. A week?” She lets out a low whistle. “Whatever magic you’ve got is more than we’ve ever seen at Prigham’s, that’s for sure. More than most people have seen ever. The guards are still talking about it.”
“Awesome,” I drone. “Just what I was hoping for.” I scratch a spot on my bicep. “Can I go back?”
She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Go back? You’re barely upright, and you want to go to your cell?”
“To my friends.”
She screws a cap on a bottle. “Not many find friends they can lean on in here. Everyone’s too jaded and sad for it. But you’ve found people?”
I nod once. “The best ones.”
Her mouth tugs to the side, the corner curving upward as if she’s proud of me. “I’m glad to hear it.”
When the news hits my ears from her small TV in the corner, I’m off the bed. I mean to beeline for the screen, not wanting to miss a word, but my legs are weak from disuse, so I collapse like a newborn fawn.
“Whoa! Easy, girl. Let me help you. Patience is the key when you’re on the mend.”
Nurse Jen lets me use her arm to lean on, once she’s steadied me on my feet. “That’s my father,” I tell Nurse Jen, though everyone under the sun already knows as much.
“He’s going to be charged with criminal activity, making those drugs and trying to distribute them to the people.” The scolding in her tone isn’t lost on me.
Though her disapproval is directed at my father, part of me rises up, protecting our name even though I know it’s nothing to be proud of right now.
He only had those jacked-up drugs because he wanted to hang a crime on the king’s head that was so big, not even his officials could look away at the scandal. I’m sure Daddy had no intention of leaking those drugs to the public.
Pretty sure.
My mouth firms. “You have no idea what his intentions were, or who we are.”
There’s a beat of silence before Nurse Jen speaks. “I worked at a rehab facility before coming here. The reports on television have said this new drug he’s concocted is twice as addictive as Luster Oak, and ten times more powerful.” She lets the truth settle in the air before poking at it. “I’d be careful, if I were you. Defending a man who sent you here, and has it in his mind to send the rest of the world into chaos, may not be your wisest move. Whatever loyalty you feel for him, he doesn’t feel for you.”
I want to shove her, even though I know she’s doling out the truth. Or at least, the truth as she understands it. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my family.” I’m being a jerk to her, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
She doesn’t see what Daddy is trying to do. He’s trying to change a corrupt system using the tools available to him. He’s got access to tons of illegal crap, and he’s got a daughter who can’t go to the movies without being photographed. He’s using those things to change the world. He’s locking me up to lead us down a path to set us all free.
I see it all so clearly now.
I trust my family, even when our hands are dirty. Shame washes through me for the weeks I spent questioning that loyalty.
I’m part of the plan now. That means something more than being a casualty of one of his plans gone awry.
Nurse Jen stands with less jolliness to her now. She motions for me to sit and continues conducting her exam. “Your bruised eye faded nicely. That’s good. Anything you need before I send you back into gen-pop?”
She’s not addressing my backtalk, which means she’s far more gracious than most. I know I’m not allowed to sass a superior, especially a nice one who’s doing nothing but helping me get back on my feet.
My head hangs as I grip the edge of the cushion-less hospital bed. “I’m sorry I’m being rude. I just… It’s been rough.”
Nurse Jen gives a small nod and tests my reflexes. “I’ll tell you what; if you can keep down this tray of food, I’ll let you go back to your friends in your cell instead of keeping you overnight.”
My whole body lifts, along with my spirits. I glance around for a food tray, my eyes finally falling on the cold meal in the corner. “Deal.”
I shove the roll into my mouth, taking larger bites than my etiquette instructor would have allowed. The baked beans are barely chewed as I wolf them down.
“Slow it, hun. It’s not a race. They’re still on the yard doing brick work, which I’m not about to send you out to do. Take a whole five minutes on your tray, and you’ll be able to go down for lights out. And you’re drinking your tea. Sloan came in here and read me the riot act for not demanding you drink it once a week.”
I only listen to her advice partway, making a show of chewing my food. She doesn’t bother me further about not eating the meatloaf when I explain that I couldn’t eat the meat even if I was fully healed.
When her back is turned, I drain my tea in one of her potted plants. I love Sloan, but I’m not drinking that ever again. I need my magic now more than ever.
I’m chewing on my last bite as she holds up her hands, facing me with mild exasperation. “Alright, you’ve made your point. You’ve got friends, and you don’t want to be in here. That’s fine.”
“How do I get updates on my dad’s case? Am I alerted if I’m sentenced for more time?”
A veil of sadness crosses her features, and I see in her the same compassion that was evident in Officer Johnson. She’s here for us, not because she supports the bill that put us all here.
“You’d be told, yes. But if you want more up-to-date news, I can send you that. But you know how slow these things tend to go. It’s only been moving quickly because it’s the king, and people are demanding results.” She screws the cap on a bottle on her tray. “I can send word to you if there are developments. Wouldn’t be the first time a kid’s been anxious about what else their parents want to try and get away with. But before I do any of that, I want you to do me a favor.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. I know what favors lead to. The family deals mostly in either money or favors.
She slaps her thighs and rubs downward, as if gearing herself up. “I want you to say something to yourself right now, and every day you’re here. You ready?”
I nod quickly, nearly choking on my carrots. “I’m ready.”
“I want you to say, ‘I matter. I’m a good person. My best days are still ahe
ad of me.’”
It’s all I can do not to ask her if there are strings attached. “That’s the favor you want? No asking if I can get my dad to do things for you under the table?”
Nurse Jen’s lips purse, as if she pities me for some reason. “You’ve never had someone ask you to do something that was just plain good for you? Not everyone has an agenda.”
I rub the nape of my neck. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that. Sure, I can say it for you.”
Her eyes bore into mine. “It’d make me happy if you said it for you.”
I don’t know why I have to gear myself up, but my feet spread shoulder-width apart as I stand, and my chest puffs like I’m about to give a grand speech. “I matter.”
Doggone. Why is my spine tingling? Those two simple words were harder to say than I anticipated.
When Nurse Jen lifts her chin with pride, I feel bolstered somehow, as if I need moral support to get through the next sentence.
The words almost get stuck in my throat. “I’m a good person.”
I’m not sure if that’s true, but I want it to be. Maybe I don’t want to be a pawn, going along with the family and turning my head on things that ought not be ignored.
Perhaps Nurse Jen was right about Daddy playing too dangerous a game. He could’ve used a shipment of plain old Luster Oak, instead of going to the trouble of monkeying with everything and having Uncle Antoni make something far more deadly than was necessary.
Nurse Jen stands, staring into my eyes with intentionality and the hint of a dare.
The last sentence comes to me with all the confidence of a whisper, but I manage to squeak it out. “My best days are still ahead of me.”
Goosebumps break out over my arms, lighting me up with possibility and a portion of peace that part of me kissed goodbye.
My life might not end in Prigham’s. Perhaps there’s more out there for me than this.
And it’s my job to find it.
33
It’s Coming
Time moves slowly on the inside. Days blur together and stretch beyond what normal weeks should be. It’s all I can do not to ask Ursa to punch me again so I can go back to Nurse Jen’s office to see if there’s been an update. She’s sent exactly zero messages to me concerning my dad’s case in the past two months. To say I’m anxious to know every detail of the trial involving my family and the king of the free world is an understatement. It’s not the pitch black that’s keeping me awake now as I try to fall asleep; it’s the waiting.
I blame Charlotte; she’s been agitated for a couple days, but won’t tell us anything about it. She’s taken to pacing lately, and when we’re on sewing duty, she can barely make half a pair of pants, which she usually has no problem with. She’s distracted and constantly frowning.
No good can come from that.
We’ve been trying to give her space to deal with her clairvoyance, but her unease puts us all on edge.
She’s been forgetting things. This morning, she sewed an entire pair of slacks, but forgot to put thread in her machine, so all she managed to do was poke thousands of holes in a neat line onto the fabric.
“How long have you been awake?” Gray murmurs.
I can tell his eyes are still closed, even though I can’t see a thing. We’re so in-tune lately, down to knowing the slight changes in his breathing when he’s in between sleep and waking.
“Since yesterday,” I admit, though it’s not with any exhaustion. I wish I was tired. I’m too keyed up for anything resembling rest. “Can’t turn my brain off.”
His lips are puffy with sleep as he kisses me, giving me a distraction from the constant reel threading through my mind. We’re so good at kissing now.
I love that he’s back to sleeping in just his underwear. It’s the greatest thing, being cuddled into his bare warmth. My fingers clinging tight to his skin finally found their heat nowhere else but with him.
“How can I help?”
It’s not the first time he’s asked. Shoot, it’s not the first time he’s asked today. “You’re a good man to ask me that.”
“It’s coming,” Charlotte says in her ominous way.
I sit up. “I thought you were asleep.”
Cass rolls over, harrumphing in my direction. “We were, until you two started talking.”
I can’t see them, but their presence never stops comforting me, even when I’m stuck in a darkness of my own making. “Sorry. I’ll go back to sleep.”
Charlotte sits up, the mattress creaking with her movement. “It’s coming!”
Cass is suddenly coherent and focused. “What is it? What do you need from us?”
Charlotte steps out of her bunk, and Cass follows.
Gray knows not to leave me in the dark, so when he sits up, he drags my body to rest against his side. I love that his arms tighten to keep me from falling into the bleach-soaked abyss. I haven’t had a nighttime panic attack in weeks, thanks to his firm gentleness keeping me grounded. His fingers feather through my hair and he presses his lips to my forehead—a habit he’s fallen into that I love.
I trust him with my hair, and the magic that comes with it.
“It’s coming,” Charlotte repeats, and this time, I can tell her voice is too robotic to be her own.
“Is she sleepwalking?” he asks Cass.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I hear a muffle of sounds in the dark, but it’s hard to make much sense of it.
Cass sounds worried, so of course, that shoots through me, as well. “Charlotte? What’s going on?”
This time, Charlotte’s reply comes out a sinister whisper. “It’s coming.”
Then the room lights up so bright, I’m temporarily blinded. Burned into my eyelids is the image of Charlotte’s dainty hand spidered across Cass’ face while Cass screams into her palm. Charlotte’s expression is stern but muted, like she’s angry about someone who’s not in the room. White light shines from Charlotte’s hands, which is a new twist for us all.
Cass’ howling tugs us both to our feet. And though we can’t see much because the room’s too bright, Gray and I do what we can to get close enough to rip Cass away from Charlotte’s electrifying grip. My arms band around Charlotte’s waist, while Gray rips Cass backward with a single tug.
Cass screams as we separate them, a burn mark stretching with five fingers across her pale face.
“Charlotte, wake up!” I cry, putting my hands on her shoulders and shaking her wildly.
Gray picks up Cass in his capable arms and rushes her to the other side of the room, ducking down so he can get a good look at the damage.
Charlotte’s illuminated hands reach forward and grip my bare hips. The skin there is exposed, due to my jumpsuit hanging low and my tank riding up.
Lightning ricochets through my body from the point where she’s holding me. Fire races through my veins, and the only thing I can focus on is the smell of my own skin burning. Agony grits my teeth and screams through my body, telling me too many things have gone wrong.
Gray shouts at any harm that comes my way, but Charlotte maintains her firm grip on me, shooting agony through my bones.
“It’s coming!” Charlotte screams.
Whatever’s been vexing Charlotte is being brought to light, and it’s coming for us. Charlotte’s looking at me, but she’s not seeing my face. I don’t know who she’s fighting, but it’s clear she does.
It’s all the effort I have in me to shove Charlotte back until her spine hits the door with a sickening crack. I can’t help the howl that thrusts out of me as my fresh burn wounds hit the air. We part only seconds before Gray trips his way to my side, jerking me back to falter behind him.
Charlotte slinks to the floor, and the light emanating from her hands goes out, bathing us in darkness.
I pant with gritted teeth through the pain in my hips that only seems to grow. It’s the wrong time for bleach to fill my nose, but on the second inhale, the image of the inside of the trunk is the only thing I s
ee.
“Arly!” Gray calls to me, his voice pulling me from the trunk as much as he’s able.
I do what I can to muscle through the terror. The pain in my hips is a welcome distraction. It keeps me from floating away entirely.
Cass’ sobs lead me toward her, and though my body is still in agony, her pain is more acute than my own. Cass is tough, so anything that brings her discomfort is something I need to fix. Cass is too incredible to be sobbing on the floor.
It feels like I’m crawling through soup—every movement is labored and slow. I’m directionless, but for her sobs I wish I couldn’t hear. Gray is shouting Charlotte’s name between intermittent slapping sounds. I’m guessing that’s him trying to rouse her.
When I finally reach Cass, I throw my arms around her shoulders and gather her as tight as I can in my embrace. The safety of my presence unlocks more of her cries as she leans into me. “My face! It’s burning! It hurts so bad!”
I feel around in the dark and finally locate the wall. “Here. The concrete is icy, like always. Can we press your face to the cold surface? Would that help?”
“I don’t know! Help me, Arly! I don’t understand what happened!”
But I know enough to form a solid guess. “Charlotte’s been ignoring her visions. It must be that. She’s been agitated for a while.”
I’m unused to relying on my magic, but once the crutch comes to me, I lean on it. I summon water to wet my palms, and drip it onto Cass’ face. If her burns are anything like mine, she’s in a dreadful amount of pain. I don’t have the concentration to force an icy temperature, but I do what I can.
My hips are burning in waves. Once I secure Cass to the wall and get the drip angle just right over her face, I inch toward the corner, tuck my body behind hers, and press my right hip to the cold. I can’t help the muffled scream that passes through my lips, nor can I keep Gray from the heartbreak of hearing it.
Sins of the Father: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrified Book 1) Page 24
