by Lauren Quick
Witch Cross strode around the room like she knew every nook and cranny of the place. “Honora will be bunking in Tess’ old room. Honora, this is your new bunkmate, Fever.”
Fever’s gaze narrowed on her for a split second and shifted around the room. Her hair was cut pixie short and her fingertips were stained black, the telltale sign of a black magic witch. Honora’s stomach lurched. She nodded at Fever who didn’t say a word, but ducked inside their cell. Honora followed Witch Cross inside. There was a slab of concrete with a mattress on it and another slab coming out of the wall above it, creating a bunk-like bed above the other. There was a tiny metal sink and toilet to the far side of the cell. There was one tiny window that let in the only natural light. Dim illuma lights lit the entire prison, giving a dark gloom that permeated the cave-like surroundings.
Fever kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the top bunk, staring down at her with huge owlish eyes. Honora sat awkwardly on her bed, avoiding Fever’s glare. The mattress was thin and knobby, but at least it had sheets and a worn blanket and thin pillow. A small wooden box sat on the bed. Cross gestured to it. “Those are your provisions. There is a store if you need to purchase other things, but it should get you started.”
Inside the box was a change of clothes and some basic toiletries. “Thank you, Witch Cross,” Honora said.
“Dinner is served at six o’clock.” Witch Cross nodded. “I’ll let you get settled.”
She turned and left. Honora wished she’d stay, for now she was alone, unless she counted Fever whose foot dangled over the side of the upper bunk. Her sole was also pitch black, not a good sign. She’d definitely walked a dark route.
18
Breathing suddenly became difficult. The rough cell walls closed in on her, the ceiling pressing down, and the ground pulling on her body. Her whole body felt heavy as if tethered to the earth. She’d underestimated how hard being imprisoned would be for an independent, sky-loving flyer. She stood and paced the small space, clenching and unclenching her fists. As long as she kept moving she’d be fine, she told herself. She kneeled down and inspected the metal band around her ankle. The magic was nauseatingly strong. It felt like the band was sucking the magic right out of her.
Honora had a choice. She could leave, call it quits when she met with her lawyer in two days and tell him to arrange with Corder to get her out of there. Until then she would collect as much information as possible. Honora stood, unable to keep still, and exhaled. That was the plan. Just two days and she was done. She could last two days.
Fever jumped down from the top bunk and hopped onto Honora’s bed like it was her own. “You someone special?” she asked. Her huge eyes were haunting in the low light of the cell.
“I’m nobody. Who are you?” Honora asked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest.
“I’m especially bad.” She smiled widely and cackled not taking her wild eyes off Honora. The young witch was gauging her reaction. She shrugged when Honora didn’t take the bait. “Not really. But I love black magic. It’s everything to me. This is my second stint in the Banishment and probably won’t be my last, but I can’t quit.” She admired the black tips of her fingers. “How about you? Are you new to dark magic? I could help you, teach you a few things.”
Honora rubbed her hands on her arms. “Yes, I’m new. But I like it so far.” She walked over and stood in the doorway of the cell, staring out into the common area. “You must know everyone here,” she said. Time to get investigating.
“Sure. You want the rundown?”
“Anyone I should get to know or stay away from?”
“I suggest you get to know everyone and stay away from everyone.” Fever smirked. “We’re all trouble here. There aren’t any nice witches to befriend if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Honora needed to get out of the cell and be seen, hopefully get Alana’s attention. “Who’s in charge out there? There has to be an alpha witch.” Honora glanced back at Fever who had her knees tucked up under her chin like a little girl.
“Sure there’s one. Why?” She arched her brow suspiciously. “Who are you interested in? Maybe I can help you.”
Playing coy wasn’t in her timeframe. “What about Alana? She was in my flying club before me, before she got caught and was thrown in here.”
“Alana’s crazy and not in a good way. Do you want to meet her? I’ll introduce you.” Fever jumped to her feet and grabbed Honora’s arm, dragging her out of the cell before Honora could stop her.
She tried to pull away, but it was too late.
“Hey, Alana! The new witch wants to meet you.” Fever yanked Honora to the far side of the common room where a small group of witches had gathered around a table.
Suddenly, Honora was face to face with Alana Burr. She had the height and broad shoulders of a flyer and stood with her hands on her wide hips. Her hair was a mass of black curls, her eyes were black as midnight, and her nose was pointy and crooked like it had been broken in the past. She cocked her head to the side and summed Honora up. “I can see why Ophelia liked you. You’re pretty on the outside and probably pretty dumb on the inside for her to trap you so easily, especially since I landed in here.” The gaggle of witches surrounding her laughed, and she continued. “That should have been a warning to any witch wanting to join that stupid club. They don’t know loyalty.”
Honora let the insult slide. “So you got set up too. Looks like we have something in common.”
“We have nothing in common. I got left holding the curse. I didn’t get set up. I did the deed, and they tossed me to the wolves. Now I have a new pack.” Four witches sat around her like she was holding court. All of their hair had been cut off and they looked like badly shorn sheep. The two of them closest to Alana had witch rune tattoos covering their muscular arms. The other two were skinny with gray hair and wrinkled faces. Their eyes were deep set and haunted as if they’d been inside for a long time.
Fever danced around the edge of the group, watching and listening.
“Don’t you want to get back at them? I want to make Ophelia and her gang of witches pay,” Honora said and took a seat at the table. “I want her to pay so badly I can taste it.”
“Oh, they already have paid and they will again soon. Everything is going as I planned.” Alana joined Honora at the table.
“Sounds like a plan I could get behind.”
“You don’t think I’d just rot away in here, do you? I still have a life, connections on the outside. Getting revenge is part of that.” Her nails were cracked and rimmed in a black stain.
“Revenge is all I care about,” Honora said.
“I’ll warn you. I can’t stand backstabbers,” Alana said with a cruel smile.
Honora let the innuendo hang in the air. There was no way that Alana could have killed Constance on her own because she was in jail at the time, but then how did she know about the word carved onto Constance’s back? Did she expect her to believe that she was behind her death? That she planned it from inside here. Or was Alana posturing for her gang of witches? “But how?”
“Let’s just say that I have my ways.”
“Your ways,” Honora taunted. “Prove it.”
Alana leaned closer. “I don’t need to prove anything to you.” And in that second, her hand snaked out and grabbed Honora around the neck, choking her. She pulled her close. “Too bad I don’t have Ophelia’s wand whip with me to wrap around your skinny neck.”
Honora jerked out of Alana’s grasp and coughed. She touched her neck where the witch had grabbed her. Alana knew details of the killing, but she could have found out from one of her sources. The gossip about Constance’s death could have spread and Alana would have wanted to find out all she could about her old clan. Was she playing Honora, trying to intimidate her?
“You know tha
t a whip killed Connie?” Honora said, bringing a little brutal honesty to the conversation. Murder was murder. She wasn’t going to pretend she’d lost all scruples. “Someone will pay for that.” She motioned to the guard, patrolling the far side of the room. “They could be listening to us right now.”
“I’m not going to pay for anything. Like I said, I have plans.” She examined her black fingernails. “In fact I’ve been waiting for you.”
“For me? You don’t even know me,” Honora said.
“I knew Ophelia’s little club would need a new witch once Constance was gone and I also knew that you’d be perfect.”
“You’re nuts if you think I’m going to believe that you’re behind all of this,” Honora said, but her stomach plummeted.
“I know you better than you think. So smart, so aggressive, so hard-working, and a sucker for a lost cause.”
The one thing that hooked Honora from the beginning was her business card. It wouldn’t have been difficult to plant one on the body. Was Alana really behind this? But there was one question still unanswered. “How did you know they would betray me?” Honora asked, but Alana changed the subject.
“Enough about them. If you’re really interested in revenge, follow me.”
Intrigued, Honora followed Alana to her cell, which she didn’t share with another witch. Being the queen witch around here had its perks.
“Wait outside and watch the door!” Alana bellowed to her gaggle of witches, who scattered out of the room, leaving them alone.
Honora swallowed. She didn’t like how events had turned. The sound of scratching of tiny claws and the squeak of a mouse or rodent seemed to be coming from the walls. She crossed her arms over her chest while Alana pried a brick loose from the corner and pulled a grubby piece of cloth from inside. She spread the cloth out in front of them. The dingy surface was covered in a circle of witch runes and symbols. Down one side of the cloth was a series of spells.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Alana asked, mesmerized by the dirty rag. “My brother gave it to me so that I could find a way out of here. And now that I have you, we’re almost ready.”
“Sure. It’s great.” Honora said, not knowing what Alana expected her to say. “It’s a cloth covered in an old spell. What’s so special about it?”
“It’s more than meets the eye. The spell is ancient and when performed properly creates a portal to the outside world. The spell was used before the invention of the gate system and became obsolete and illegal when the gate went up. Plus, hardly anyone reads runes anymore. The prison doesn’t guard against all of them. This spell in particular. We’ve found the one to slip through their net.”
The witch was crazy if she thought she could spell her way out of the Banishment. Honora studied the cloth. It was worn, yet it felt slippery and cold to the touch, like it was permeated with darkness. The spell depicted on the surface was complicated, but all the symbols had been translated and were at least readable. But the more she read, the more she realized the spell was not innocent. “It’s black magic and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“I told you it’s special.”
“Why are you showing me this?” Honora asked.
“Because I expect you to perform the spell, cast the circle, and break me out of here,” Alana hissed in her face.
“Why me?” Honora’s jaw tensed. She was sick and tired of being ordered around. “Besides, it’s impossible and it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You can’t break out of the Banishment, ancient black magic or not. Do you know how many wards are on this place?”
Honora’s attention jerked to the squeaking sound at her feet. She shifted, hoping to avoid any vermin. Just her luck that the cells were infested with mice or rats. She watched Alana pull a small bag out of the hem of her shirt and dump the contents onto the cloth. Shimmering black stones flickered in the low light.
“You have a collection of stones.” Honora leaned in and inspected them. “Wait. What are they?”
“Obsidian from the same material that built the Banishment. You’re going to use them to cast the circle.” Alana glanced at her expectantly.
The obsidian was a good choice, the only choice really, because it was made of the same material as the building’s foundation, it would be undetectable to the wards. But that still didn’t mean the old spell and some stones would work. Honora shook her head and Alana read her mind. “It will work. You will cast a circle of obsidian stones on the next full moon and perform the spell on the cloth. You will open a passageway, a portal, and we’ll leave here forever, walk right through.” Her face gleamed.
“The full moon is tomorrow night,” Honora said, realizing that gave her precious little time to get out of there. Her stomach seized.
“I know. It’s perfect. Only one more night in this wretched place.” Alana paced her cell with her hands on her hips. “I almost thought you weren’t coming and today you arrived like a gift on a blackened platter.”
Something was off with Alana’s reasoning. “Why me? If you are so sure the ancient spell on that old rag is going to help you escape, why haven’t you done it yourself and gotten out of here already? What are you waiting for?”
“Because I can’t do it. No one here can do it. I’ve already tried.” Alana drilled her with her gaze. “The magic can only be performed by a witch with a curse on her head and that’s why I made sure it was you, that Constance’s body was left in your alley, with your business card in her pocket, to entice you to join the gang in an attempt to solve her murder. Don’t you see my beautiful plan worked perfectly? And now I have you here.”
It all made terrible sense to her now. Honora touched the cloth. “This is an ancient curse that can only be cast by a cursed witch.” She paused. She and Corder thought they were so smart by sending her in undercover like they had all the control. But Alana wanted it that way all along. She knew Ophelia would betray her and that she would be sent to the Banishment, but what she didn’t know was that Honora was working for the other side. “I hate to admit this, but your plan is brilliant,” Honora said. “It’s also complete and utter madness.” And could get her into a lot of trouble. “I can’t just perform black magic in my cell.”
“You will do it in my cell, and I’ve already worked that out with one of the guards.”
“Which one?” Honora asked.
Alana snorted, not responding.
“Why should I risk it?”
“You have no choice because if you don’t I’ll make your life in here a living hell and I’ll hurt your sisters out there. You don’t want them to end up like Constance, do you?” Alana’s gaze hardened.
Anger flared inside Honora. No one threatened her sisters. But she had no answer. She’d been played perfectly.
“Mayhem! You’ve got a visitor!” Witch Cross’ voice bellowed.
Already? Who could be coming to see her so soon? Honora rose to her feet, moved slowly out of Alana’s cell, and away from the group of witches who hovered just beyond the doorway. She followed Witch Cross down a long hallway to the visitor center. She was directed to a long row of wooden chairs placed before a glass partition with identical chairs on the opposite side. She passed by a few witches and noticed a witch on the other side had a familiar with her and Honora’s heart ached. Familiars weren’t allowed in the prison and had to visit the witch like any other visitor. Witch Cross pushed Honora along and motioned to the last seat.
Honora sunk into the chair and waited. Her eyes widened when she saw the witch who had come to see her and sat across from her. It was Rachel Marrow.
She spoke first, “I’m sure you’re surprised to see me.”
The glass partition shimmered with magic, making their voices clear.
“Surprised is an understatement. What are you doing here?” Honora had to keep up preten
ses and put on an angry snarl. She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I had no idea this was going to happen. I mean it.” Rachel’s eyes were wide and shiny with concern.
“Your boss set me up, so I find it hard to believe that you were that clueless, Rachel.”
“This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come.” She stood, but Honora stopped her.
“Wait. You might as well talk. You came all this way.”
Rachel sat. Her gaze dropped to the table in front of her. “It all went wrong. I don’t know when it all really started, but it snowballed. The club is in trouble. We’ve gone down a bad road and I don’t know how to stop it.”
Honora cocked her brow. “And you came here to ask for my help? Because if you hadn’t noticed I’m in jail and they’ve taken my persuasion.”
She shrunk back. “No. I didn’t mean it that way. I just wanted you to know that I was sorry. It must be awful in here.”
Honora had a small window to pry Rachel for information. “Then tell me who killed Constance. Were you trying to do a black magic spell and it went wrong? Which one of you did it? Was it Ophelia and her notorious wand whip?” Honora didn’t have anything to lose by asking and she wasn’t above taking advantage of Rachel’s fragile, guilt-ridden state. Plus, she needed to find out if Alana was telling the truth and who on the outside was working with her.
“I know you must hate Ophelia right now. But she didn’t kill anyone. She would never kill another witch.”
Honora wasn’t buying it. Rachel thought way too highly of her friend, but she did have one point. “She just gets them thrown into jail.” Strangely enough it made sense. Why would Ophelia commit murder if she could so easily get rid of a witch she didn’t like? “If it wasn’t Ophelia, then who?”
