by Dany Stone
My back slams hard into the wall, hands relentlessly pushing me back. A crush of pain that sets all my muscles quivering.
This is it this is it—
“Back away from the inmate.” Guards push at the fringe of the crowd, but Tigo’s henchmen form a tighter circle around me. Blocking me in.
My pulse throbs violently in my neck. Burning in every spot their fingers have connected with. Every protective instinct screaming to shift and defend.
Ki’s face swims inside the ring of guards. He’s saying something, calling to me, but it’s impossible to hear him in the chaos.
His smile is quizzical, watching me like something in my face is sparking unbelieving recognition.
Watching my face instead of my hand.
In an instant I’ve lifted my manacled hands over his head and around his neck. Tightening.
Twisting deep.
Tearing into skin.
His curses are hot against my skin, words that don’t even connect over the roaring in my ears. Blood drips over my fingers, the manacles tearing through his skin.
I pull him closer until we’re nose to nose.
So close he can’t avoid looking into my eyes.
“Tell Tigo,” I hiss, “that I finished my end of the deal. And unless he wants to lose his precious artifact forever, he’ll find a way to get me out of here.”
Then the guards are between us, batons slamming into bone and tasers stinging.
I don’t attempt resistance as they free Tigo’s goon from my manacles.
Show no emotion at all as they lead me away.
But the fear inside me has never been stronger.
Fourteen
LUX
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
As if things couldn’t get any worse. There’s no way I’ll make it here if Tigo’s goons are in charge, no matter what kind of a show I put on. By now, he probably already has a price on my head and there’s a huge line forming to claim it.
I failed to get the Shroud to him.
And I’ll have to pay.
I fling away from the guard as he attempts to push me into the cell. My head high as I enter, the best show of I-don’t-give-a-fuck that I can perform. There are too many eyes watching from every side of the corridor and I’m not about to show any weakness in front of them.
If they want to take me out, they’ll have a hell of a fight on their hands.
I stalk into the center of the cell, taking in its minimum contents at a glance. A solitary bunk, bolted to the floor and thee wall, a toilet and sink combination – seriously, could there be anything less gross? –, and one screwed up table that looks like the previous inmate spent hours slamming their head against.
Cool your shit, Designer Weekly. I promise to share my decoration tips.
At the very least, there’s some comfort in knowing I’ll be alone. No one to affect my—
Something thumps against the doorway, a rattle that isn’t the door shutting. I turn, eyes narrowed, just in time to see the guard shove in –
The reaper?
Good gods. No. What putrid hell did they pull him out of? He’s supposed to be long gone.
He whirls around to face me, hands splayed, a look of panic twisting his features that’s almost comical.
Except for the fact the guard just put him in my cell.
“Damien Bone,” he says. “Looks like we’re cell mates.”
I stride forward, catch his arm to steady him. Catch the guard’s eye. “Wait a damn minute. There’s been a mistake.”
“Yeah, keep thinking that.” The guard releases the door and it slams into place with a rattle that shakes the cell.
Laughing like I’m not a threat.
I grit my teeth, the beast inside me rising only to be choked away by the manacle’s power hold.
I’m nothing more than a weak human.
Pathetic without my powers.
No reason for anyone to fear me like this.
With a growl, I push Damien away from me and begin to pace. My inner beast whimpering for release, a tension that builds relentlessly before dying away. Only to start the frustrating cycle all over again.
“At least I don’t have to worry about letting you out of my sight.” Damien lowers himself to the edge of the cot and lays back, cocky enough to think he has the right. I ease down beside him. One hand on his leg, gentle as a lover’s touch. He jolts slightly.
“I’m glad they didn’t separate us,” I whisper. Breathy. Fragile. “We should stay together.”
Frowning, he reaches to move my hand off of his leg, but I tighten my grip. Fingers clamped around his muscles and digging into skin.
Hard enough that he goes still.
“What the—”
“Listen to me and listen well, reaper boy.” Still whispering. “This cell may be shit, but it’s mine, do you understand that? You may think this should have been handled differently, but I know better. You’re as evil as the rest of us, but I’m the true criminal here. I’m the one they’ve fucked over for life.” I run a finger up his leg. Smile into his eyes when I feel him flinch. “I’ve worked my entire life to be worthy of this cell.”
“Not exactly the best incentive point.” One eyebrow quirks upward, so adorable I want to —- Well, there are about a dozen things I’d like to do with him right now. Climb on top of him, force his smirking lips apart and kiss him like—-
Are you out of your mind?
I release him. Fingers tight around my knee, but it’s not enough to suppress these crazy feelings. No matter how much I want to pretend otherwise. “Just remember your place, reaper-boy, and we’ll get along splendidly.”
Too splendidly.
Gods damn me. Why won’t that voice in my head shut up?
“Look.” He stares up at the mold-eaten ceiling, voice weary. “My brother will bail me out of here before the night’s over. You can have your little cell and enjoy the hell out of it.” A side-eyed glance. “At least, until I have the chance to claim you.”
My heart beats a little faster, a totally ridiculous reaction when I know what he means. “No one is going to claim me.”
At least, not yet.
“Don’t bet your pretty face on it.” He closes his eyes, completely cutting me out, and I inch over to the other side of the cot. Not that it creates much space between us, but it’s something. Staking my space until I figure out a way to boot him.
I really could use a magic boost around now.
Outside the cell, boots thud down the corridor, muffled by the yells of patrolling guards. Faces peer through the bars, a quick check before they return to their patrol. Somewhere out in that chaos, Ki too is patrolling, intense, focused, the way he always is.
I wonder if he thinks about me.
Pictures me in the cell.
Realizes just how life is about to change.
For both of us.
Maybe if I had stayed with him, maybe if I hadn’t pushed him away, things would be different. I could have buried my magic, pretended to have a normal human life just to keep him. Raised half-magical kids who wouldn’t know what to do with their magic and I would never be free to teach them.
Never be as free as I am tonight.
Sitting behind bars.
I snort a laugh, uncalled-for laughter rising up my throat. Could this situation be any more ridiculous?
“I’d appreciate it if you reserved your insanity for the psych ward,” Damien says. The motherfucker doesn’t even have the respect to open his eyes.
I turn my back to him with a huff. “The only thing driving me insane is your ugly face.”
He raises one eyebrow, still without looking at me. “Not the impression I was getting, inmate.”
“Damn your impressions, reaper-boy.” Damn everything about him. I feel my face burning in a — blush? Oh good gods. What am I, fifteen years old again?
You do not. Fall. For guys. Who want. To. Kill. You.
See? My brain understands the message.
/> Too bad my heart doesn’t.
I curl my arms around my legs, holding myself away from Damien. Staring through him until he finally stirs and pulls himself up. He curses when he catches my gaze.
“You know what?” He shoves himself up and off of the bunk. “Take the bottom bunk, you ghoul.” I keep still like I don’t hear him, but I watch out of the corner of my eye as he stomps up the ladder to the top bunk. The mattress above me shifts and then goes still. You’d think with everything that’s on his conscience, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. In a matter of hours, he’s tried to kill me, tried to steal the Shroud, managed to get me arrested, and is now defiling my cell with his reaper vibes.
Then again, no wonder he’s exhausted.
Scowling, I grab my ratty blanket and pull it over me until I’m hidden in its thin cocoon. Shielded from the harsh realities of the cell like I’ve spent all my life closed into this darkness.
Free to pretend nothing exists beyond this silence.
Aiden left you. The reminder stings at the back of my mind. He knew you needed his help.
And yet he ran.
Ran away with the artifact that could have saved you.
If we had stayed together, maybe we could have fought off Damien, maybe made it off with the Shroud together.
But instead he abandoned me.
To a fate he should never have wished on his worst enemy.
I wish I could be naïve enough to believe it could’ve been a mistake.
But the hardened panic in his eyes when he looked back at me told me more than any excuses or lies ever could.
He was glad to get rid of you.
Glad to get rid of any condemning ties.
I clench my hands. Tighter. Tighter. A futile attempt to strangle away all feeling.
To forget.
You were all I had left, I scream. To Aiden. To anyone who would listen. The only one left for me to trust.
I left for the raid prepared to give up everything for him. Holy Olympus, anything.
The pain inside me rises into a torrent, swallowing, consuming all other feeling. I’ve been strong for so long —- too long. No longer can hold back the tears burning in the back of my eyes. Hot liquid scorches my cheeks, the salt of it burning my lips. I curl up with my knees against my chest under a mosquito net of a blanket and a jumpsuit that smells like mold.
I hate my life.
Fucking, fucking, fucking hate everything I’ve become.
I clench my arms tighter around my knees. Holding on for everything I’m worth while I fight for breath.
You are strong.
You can survive this.
I’ve been telling myself lies for so long I can no longer tell the difference. Maybe don’t want to acknowledge there is a difference. I’ll be safe and stupid and stay in this cell forever where no one can—-
Footsteps creak on the bunk stairs, a moment of silence before Damien lowers himself to the concrete floor. I pull the blanket tighter around me, closing him out.
Only to feel a hand on arm in the next moment.
A touch so gentle and unexpected I freeze. The sheets rustle as Damien crawls onto the bunk beside me. “Shh,” he whispers in my ear. He tucks the blanket around me. “No reason to waste your energy crying.”
What in god’s eternal name? Damien Bone, dark incubus and reaper, is —cuddling me? That settles it. Tonight is probably the end of the world and he wants to get as much out of it he can. I know I should fight him. Establish dominance. Keep up the game of always being strong before he takes advantage of me.
But instead I let him drape an arm across my middle and tug me back against him.
A fellow supernatural’s touch that reigns supreme over all my fear and worry.
I clench my fingers around his hand and he doesn’t pull away. Instead lets me hold on like he’s the lifeboat to my drowning and survival just might be possible. Outside the cell, the hum of guards’ voices and the endless wail of prisoners in pain blend and dissolve until all I hear is his heartbeat, thrumming against my ears. He tugs closer until my head rests against his heart. A steady, oddly familiar beat.
I want him to hold me forever.
Even as every ounce of common sense screams at me to let him go.
Fifteen
KI
Coffee heats through the cup to my skin, the intertwined aromas of java and doughnuts and sweat enough to jolt all my senses awake.
Not to mention the frantic thoughts circling in my head.
Vultures that have invaded my mind.
So that the only thing I can see is Lux’s face.
The panic in her eyes as the inmates surrounded her.
And that’s only the beginning.
I clench my hands tighter until my skin burns and I’m forced to set the cup down.
Doing everything I can to avoid looking at Blade seated across from me.
At this hour, the breakroom is empty, the few officers we have on shift busy processing the new inmates and running cell patrols.
No one to interrupt us when I would like to be interrupted most.
Woo. Can we go ahead and skip to the fun stuff?
I stare over the top of the booth into the wall-mounted LifeScreen playing a variety of night shows. Every smile I see twists my misery a little deeper into the wound of my heart. Reinforcing my solitary state, the emptiness inside me.
Everywhere I look, I see people who have everything they want.
And I’ve lost the only thing I had.
“Believe me, I’ve discussed every option with Greyson and his squadron. This is our best option.” Blade raises his cup in a mimic of a toast and half-heartedly I raise my cup back.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t.
Don’t.
“You don’t know how she is.” I take a deliberately slow sip of my coffee. Frustration rising no matter how hard I fight for calm. Tries for peace. “Not who she really is.”
Can’t know how much she meant to me.
How can Blade claim to know anything about Lux, insinuate that his information reaches so much deeper than mine? When this investigation began only when she changed?
This is not really Lux.
This isn’t the way she wants to be.
The mantra I’ve repeated to myself so many times I almost believe it.
“Is,” Blade says tersely, an emphasis I can’t miss. He lowers his cup heavily to the table. “Not was.”
I drain another sip of coffee, force myself to swallow. The heat seeps down my throat, as scalding hot as memory.
Stupid. This is stupid. What’s the sense in playing a game like this—dodging and cutting around the insinuations we both know Blade means?
We both know that this conversation could be the means of saving Lux’s life.
Or ending it.
I shove the cup away from me and lean forward. “No. I can’t.”
Blade stays where he is, not pulling back from me, but not leaning toward me either. Holding control even without saying a word.
The fierce rigidity of his face never relaxes.
“Do you not get it?” I sit back, only to lean forward again. Don’t have the peace, the control, to keep myself still. “Do you not get it? Invading her memories is also a way of invading her. I am not getting tangled up in this.” He slams back against the booth. Furiously, I mime slitting my throat with a finger. “In any form.”
“I see.” Blade’s mouth moves tightly. The faintest gash of a smile. “It’s your life, McAllister.” Ever smiling. Ever watching. “Your choice.”
How can he read through me like this? Watching me like he can see into everything I’m not saying? Everything I don’t want known?
Stripping away all the layers of pretense and agreement until he’s looking deep into my heart. Searching down to where my loyalty really lies.
My gaze flinches away.
“It’s like this.” Blade tips over his empty cup. Then reaches for mine. “You done
with this?”
I raise one shoulder, nails digging savagely into the metal edges of the table. Eyebrows raised as Blade leans around the corner of the booth and dumps my coffee into the trash.
Come on. If he’s trying to be a jerk, there are more mature ways to do it.
“Here we are.” Blade sets my cup upside down beside his. His black fur drags through drops of spilled coffee. “Lux was someone you thought you could trust, right?” He tugs a color stylus from his pocket, one eyebrow dragged questioningly upwards, and I meet his gaze fiercely.
“Is.”
“Fine. I can work with ‘is’.” His eye roll is far from subtle. “You’ve known her, what? Two years? Three?” The stylus notches the side of the cup. Being guided with swift precision. Drawing—
Eyes?
“Two,” I say. Defiance melting away into weariness. Just quit with the games already. Give me a way out of this.
Two identical, quick slashes appear on the cup. The lines tilted just enough in the corners to tell me who the emerging face is going to signify.
“Ever since she debuted on Starlet?” Blade switches the ink in the stylus to red. Makes Lux’s smile red. He doesn’t wait for my nod. “One of the most impressive performers we’d seen – until she decided to join the criminally magical and take her talents to the underworld. Although that connection was kept under wraps for over half a year.”
I go back to studying the table.
A self-history lesson.
How can I thank you?
“Her charisma completely blinded us. She told us what she wanted us to hear and we believed her. Part of what drew you to her, isn’t it? The way she took control.” A little nose, not red. I follow Blade’s rapid sketching, the stylus moving effortless between colors and lines and angles. A stray strand dangles over one red-blonde eyebrow, Lux evolving on polystyrene.
OK, a little weird.
Because it actually looks like her.
Blade surveys his work with the satisfaction of an artist. Smiling slightly to himself as he tucks away the stylus. “OK. Here she is.” He turns the cup so the Lux caricature is directly facing me. “Your charming little ex-girlfriend who also happens to be a Rarity – and an underworld operative.” His fingers turn the cup slowly. Moving Lux’s face in and out of view. “You trust her, right?”
