Psychic Prison

by Veronica Agnus

  After the rejuvenating bath and skincare, I was left with this corset dress that fit my body perfectly. In the world of all things supernatural, I wouldn't question how they got my measurements when my arrival at the prison didn't include a head to toe assessment with a measuring tape.

  After my experience of seeing a man die from internal fire, figuring out a person's measurements with sight had to be considered child's play.

  With black heels and a silver butterfly necklace that had to be made of real silver, my outfit was complete.

  The bonus was a brand-new black lingerie set hidden beneath. After two weeks of rotating two pairs of hospital underwear and settling with my last pair for the last thirty hours, this was the biggest blessing of it all.

  The woman reflected back at me was the image of royalty I aspired to be, but with my guard lowered, my vulnerability shone brightly.

  I was nervous about what was to come. Afraid that I'd suddenly wake up and be back in the hospital bed with my wrists captive and my dreams of freedom shattered.

  This was no closer to freedom, but so far, from how everyone raced to please this man named Phoenix, I was enduring the best bit of captivity I could have ever fathomed could occur within these walls.

  That and this hidden paradise.

  "Mr. Phoenix is ready for you, Ms. Butterfly."

  I slowly turned to see a tall, slender woman. She had to be 6'3" without the sleek black heels. She wore a tight black dress that was lucky to cover her butt and had dazzling blonde hair that was curled to perfection.

  Blue eyes bore into mine and I took one more glance at her appearance. I had to admit, she looked good and professional, but I had little to compare her to.

  "Alright." The simple answer was all I could come up with. This could have been the prime time to get as many answers to the build of questions in my head, but did it matter now?

  I'm safe for now. My life isn't in jeopardy. This man got rid of Eric and took me out of that disgusting rat hole of a cell. I doubt I'd be able to sleep now, so I might as well see where this took me.

  With one last look at myself, I put on my masked persona and swiftly turned away and headed to the door.

  The woman opened it up for me, and with a quiet thanks, I began my walk down the beautiful white hallway.

  White. Not moldy, brown, and lathered in whatever fluids and dust collected in the last decade - or longer.

  Never would I believe a place like this could exist after all I'd seen in Level One. It was like opening a door and walking into a hidden mansion underground.

  Everything was white plastered walls, gold trimming, and pillars, with various pieces of decorative furniture thrown in. I was impressed no prisoner had stolen from this place.

  This is prison, for fuck's sake. How was all of this even here? Do they bring the furniture in secretly at night so no one sees? Or use a spell that cloaks the fancy items with an illusion of trash?

  Our heels clicked against the now-marble floors, and I knew it would take me a hell of a long time to accept this place was within the same vicinity as that dump I'd been sitting in hours prior.

  When we reached the end of the hall and entered the apparent main common room, I lacked words.

  What could I possibly say to this luxurious grand ballroom?!

  My wide eyes peered around the massive white place that was decorated with various antiques of gold, white, and red.

  The guest bathroom I'd used to change was gold, white, and turquoise. I had a feeling each room had its own unique color combination.

  The fancy, antique chairs looked classy yet comfy as we passed by them. To my shocked surprise, there were windows, which made no sense when we were underground on the third floor.

  The curtains were white with draping silks of red and gold. The outside looked like an image of art you'd see plastered on the wall, but it was real and absolutely beautiful.

  "Mr. Phoenix will be out shortly. He'll explain the rules and give you a tour of the rest of the floor and gateways," the woman explained. "My name is Lyla Black. I'm Mr. Phoenix's personal assistant. My position includes assisting you with anything you desire. Don't hesitate to contact me. Once we've set up your cell service, I'll be a text away."

  Cellphone service?

  My shocked expression must have bled through my act because she grinned.

  "Prison is not always a place of punishment for us supernaturals. Phoenix will explain, but until then, allow yourself to relax and feel right at home. Once you understand your role, it'll be a lot easier to comprehend."

  She gestured to the single chair near one of the windows. "Please be seated. Do you need anything to drink?"

  "I'm fine. Thank you, Lyla. It's a pleasure to see you again."

  My last statement didn't make sense to me, and I frowned. "Um. I meant nice to meet you. Minus the again."

  The woman nodded with a smile on her smooth lips. "Pleasure is all mine, Ms. Butterfly. Relax and enjoy the view."

  She bowed as if I was of royal heritage and I stared at her figure until I was the only one left in the massive room.

  My heart was racing against my chest, while my head pounded with force. Shutting my eyes for a mere second, I was hit with a flashback.

  * * *

  "This type of lingerie should be banned! Look. It doesn't even cover my pussy! What's the point of wearing it? Humans. Spend more time making thin pieces of fabric to cover what? I might as well be naked instead of bothering with skimpy strings and clips. These don't even cup my breasts!"

  "Ms. Alisha. All this complaining is doing is making your mate wait longer for your arrival."

  "Good! Let him starve at this point. Buying such wastes of fabric only to shred them when he gets all hard with one glance. Take a picture and it would last far longer than half my lingerie! Please tell me I'm not the only woman who experiences such with barbaric supernatural men with impatient tendencies?!"

  "You are correct, Ms. Alisha."

  "Lyla! You don't even seem sympathetic."

  "I'm not." She was on the verge of giggles.

  "Why do I bother? You're on A–s’ side, aren't you? Always taking his side and not mine. I feel betrayed."

  "I was on your side when you convinced him to build a home nail salon for your addiction."

  "Satisfaction, Lyla. Perfect nails are a reflection of a woman's heart."

  "You always get black, though," she pointed out.

  "Exactly." I grinned. "Again, a perfect reflection of my heart."

  "Chilling." Lyla sighed. "He's about to call you."

  "Tell him I died trying to put this shit on."

  "I could but he'd merely waltz in here and check himself."

  "Good," I concluded. "He'll get me out of it faster than it took me to put it on and then I'll be nice and comfortable as my naked self. No wonder we're born naked. Clothes are a bother."

  "Your views of life always intrigue me, Ms. Alisha."

  "It's Saphire's fault. Her depth of knowledge is an endless pit of things I don't even know until they come out of my mouth."

  "Blessing in disguise," Lyla responded. There was a knock on the door. "He's here."

  * * *

  I snapped out of the memory, my eyes opening up as I fought for air. Scanning around the room, I was relieved that I was still alone. With how random these flashing memories were becoming, I couldn't afford to be in a vulnerable state until I figured all this out.

  We definitely know this Lyla woman.

  "Familiarity is strong. Lack of memories is clear."

  That means this Phoenix guy has to be of importance, but the man in question's name... It starts with an A, not P. Do you think this Phoenix man knows who this individual is?

  "Maybe. Another question that needs answering, but that's something we won't be able to solve on our own."

  Indeed.

  My eyes drifted to the scenery, the calm fields of grass that fluttered back and forth with the warm breeze. I was still shocked
at how all of this was possible, to be sitting here in a mansion ballroom while the floor above was filled with prisoners enduring far worse.

  The further down you went, the more powerful the supernatural in captivity, but was I the only one getting this level of favorable treatment or was this an initiation of some sort while I was awaiting my own trial?

  My eyes soaked in the serene views, taking in the pastel flowers in a little bundle of colorful roses. The sky was clear of clouds, and the warmth of the sun was something I'd missed greatly in the little amount I'd spent within these underground walls.

  The longer I stared, the calmer I became, my eyelids beginning to betray me as they grew heavier by the second. I crossed my arms over my chest as if that would stop my slow descent into slumber.

  The darkness was so inviting, not filled with waves of anxiety, fear, and uncertainty about my future path. I could be who I wished to be, and not project an image out of protection. This place was a safe one, and I wished to remain here for as long as I could.

  Until I figured out who I was supposed to be and if I had any allies on my side.

  There was a soft brush to my cheek, making a light smile graze my lips. The touch was so familiar and comforting, my slowed heart skipped with elation. This level of peacefulness made me miss it even more, and as I drifted in and out, I wished for this comfort to never fade away.

  "Alisha."

  Saphire was calling me, but did I have to wake from my slumber? I missed sleeping more than I realized. Just a little longer and I'd be okay. I could place that cold-hearted mask on and tuck away my fears and bouts of anxiety.

  "Alisha."

  The cold voice had a soft tenderness to it. The odd combination prompted my eyes to open slowly. I blinked to adjust to the bright lights, and with slow precision I raised my glance to see the man with red eyes.

  They harbored no hate towards me, their calmness something new in comparison to the dark, dangerous ones that had peered down at that commander and Eric like they were ants flooding out of a hole.

  My eyes took in his delicious caramel skin and built body, noticing that he now wore a comfortable white tank top and black joggers. To see him so casually dressed compared to my attire made me wonder if he was going to introduce me to someone else.

  Now that he wore a tank and the light illuminated his figure far better than in the previous prison cell, I could see the tattoo on his left arm.

  One that looked like a replica of mine.

  Before my eyes could take in the dark ink of the koi fish that morphed into the shape of a dragon, it disappeared with a blink of an eye, leaving me to believe I'd imagined it.

  I was still trying to wake up, and my obvious disappointment was in the form of a frown.

  "You shouldn't allow yourself to be vulnerable," Phoenix emphasized coldly.

  "You're only vulnerable if you make yourself feel that way," I answered back, my voice still thick with sleep. "You wouldn't hurt me."

  "That's a brave assumption."

  "Statement," I corrected, and sat up from my slouched position. I noticed the small, red pillow that had been beneath my head, protecting me from having what should have been a stiff neck.

  I didn’t recall putting it there, and I looked to the only culprit I could think of.

  Phoenix wasn't looking my way anymore, his eyes centered on the scene outside the window. I ended up following his gaze, letting go of my intent to expose his kindness and deciding it was time to ask some questions.

  "Why are we able to see a view like this when we're fifty feet below the surface? It could be more. I never had the chance to observe."

  "The view is from Ireland," he announced.

  "We're nowhere near Ireland," I pointed out the obvious. "I lived in NYC."

  "You were discovered in NYC. You never lived there."

  "I'm not following."

  Our eyes met as he shifted his gaze to look my way once more. Sliding his hands into the pocket of those black joggers, he analyzed me carefully.

  "How much do you remember?"

  "Define remember," I promptly commented. "Remember as in what happened before I woke up in a random medical bed in NYC, which apparently isn't my home city? Or should I just admit I have some serious amnesia and am lucky to know my name? Oh, and also the talking voice in my head?"

  My sarcasm oozed out like crazy and my attempt to mask my usual personality was a fail in front of him.

  Well, fuck that.

  "No one informed me you had amnesia."

  "How rude of them," I commented and sighed. "That means you have no idea who I am."

  His silence answered my question and I gave into that shattering spark of hope. Without a word, I rose up and began to walk towards the door.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Back to that disgusting rut of a cell."

  "I never gave you permission to leave."

  My heels stopped as I twirled right around to look at his hard gaze.

  "Why do you want me?" My sudden spike in anger was questionable, but it only shot higher as I suddenly stomped forward and was right in his face.

  "What makes me so valuable for you to claim me? That's what this is, right? I'm now your slave to do whatever you want sexually? Be fucked and tossed like trash or abused for a crime I'm sure I didn't commit?"

  My actions were bold and unpredictable, but I felt Saphire's presence and knew she had my back. She would have interfered otherwise. We'd gotten this far without dying. Might as well test our chances with our very own master.

  We deserved answers, and I couldn't move forward from my forgotten past unless I had a purpose to guide me from the present to whatever future I carried within these shackled walls.

  "You realize what you're doing is punishable?"

  "Then punish me," I dared, looking straight into the hollows of those red orbs. "All pain does is remind me of what I've lost and how desperately I'll fight to claim my identity."

  He said nothing back, and I readied myself for a physical comeback. He remained where he stood, his hands still in his pockets while his darkened eyes analyzed me carefully.

  I wouldn't back down and he knew it.

  "Do you know you're of monarchy?"

  "I'm aware but lack the full definition of it all."

  The slight nod of his head didn't give me enough courage to let my guard down, but what threw me off was his step forward. Our bodies pressed together like magnets.

  Logic immediately kicked in and I expected myself to take a step back. Instead, I did the opposite, the action already happening as my arms slipped around his waist and I hugged him with all my heart.

  He didn't push me away as I hugged him tightly, nor did he grow rigid from my sudden intimacy. I was acting so out of character that I was, again, left with uncertainty about who I had been. What girl lands in prison, receives a master, and hugs him after attempting to push all his buttons?

  Obviously me, but none of it made sense.

  My bizarre behavior would either lead me back into that moldy cell or chained naked in a dark room. The fact that Saphire was being rather silent and not acknowledging my stupid behavior made things worse in my mind.

  Phoenix finally sighed, and to my surprise, his arms slowly wrapped around my waist as he hugged me back.

  My body calmed tremendously, my speedy heart beginning to slow and all the bits of nerves that piled up with my previous desire to act out faded away.

  "Even without your memories, you act as crazy as ever," he muttered and nuzzled his head against my shoulder.

  What now? He didn't just call me crazy.

  "That's the first thing you pick up on?" Saphire sounded like she pitied me.

  He called us crazy!

  "Well, we're definitely not normal. I can tell you that much. I wonder if we have bipolar disorder?"

  We don't.

  "Mhm." Saphire's response didn't give me any hope that she agreed with me, but I gave up on the conversation and closed my
eyes for a solid minute.

  "Why are you hugging me when you don't know me?"

  "Why are you hugging me when you don't even remember me?" he countered right back.

  His question made more sense than mine, but I remained in his embrace and decided to give up fighting whatever was brewing between us.

  "I don't remember who you are...but my gut tells me you're important. Before you arrived here, I saw Lyla. I knew her. Or at least I had the impression I knew who she was. Then there was the flashback, and now...everything about you frightens and seduces me. It's as though your existence is a blessing and a curse, making all of this even harder to figure out."

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I fought to remain strong.

  "I won't let myself break down. I've come too far and endured too much in the last two weeks to let a single man break me, but why do you fascinate me? Why does your presence pull me in and make it impossible to think straight? Your commanding force is fearful, and yet it excites me to see the power ooze off you when in action. You proved your worth by killing that man who disrespected me multiple times and removing me from that filthy place. You dressed me up in the finest clothes and now I'm here in a place that gives me the sight of fields in the heart of Ireland. You're giving me a mask of a man that wants nothing but pain for me, and yet you're hugging me back and listening to my confusing ramblings. How the hell am I supposed to decipher any of this with no memories to use to my advantage and no idea of what my role is as your marked butterfly? So many fucking questions and everything is left unsolved as the tower of the unknown piles upward. At the end of the day, what am I supposed to do?"

  I finally lifted my head up, and I was lost in how his eyes began to dance in various colors, their movement almost hypnotizing.

  "I'll answer your questions, but you're not in the proper state."

  "How..." I paused as my vision began to double, those two red orbs turning into four, then eight, and then my sight was nothing but dazzling red.

  Saphire...what...

  I was drifting away, and nothing could stop me as my world fell into darkness.