Dragon Marked: Supernatural Prison #1

by Jaymin Eve

  Jonathon tented his hands in front of him. “You do know that the prison is hidden for a reason.” His voice was low, echoing around the room. “If you’re caught, you’ll be locked away for a long time. And I’m oath sworn, I cannot reveal the location to you.”

  Jacob nodded. “We know the entrance to the underground shifts every forty-eight hours,” he said. “We became sort of friendly with one of the guards.”

  Tyson snorted. “And by sort of friendly, he means that we scared the ever-living-shit out of him and he spilled lots of information.”

  Sounded about right.

  Braxton growled. It was deep, not human. “We will find it. This time we won’t be wasting energy looking in all the wrong places. We know a lot more now.”

  I joined Mischa in the center of the room. “I want to help too.”

  They were going to get themselves killed or locked up again, for life. I was either going to save them or I was going down with them. Plus, I was curious to see if I could sense anything in there about the dragon marked. I wanted to know if I would feel some sort of kinship with others like myself.

  The Compasses immediately vetoed the idea.

  Tyson was first to jump in. Time for the overprotective bullshit. “It’s much too dangerous for Jessa and her sister to go. The prisoners are not to be messed with. There are some hardcore crims in there. If we get caught, it’s better if they aren’t with us.”

  Maximus stood and towered over the two of us, his standard brand of intimidation. “Not to mention the guards are all outfitted with silver and iron bullets, and they’re a little trigger happy.”

  Bullets hurt supernaturals – killed us if you hit in the right spot – but if you just shoot us in the leg you’d better run, because we heal fast and will be coming after your ass. Silver is more deadly for shifters and vamps, poisoning us. Fey and many of the demi-fey are allergic to iron; the element does weird shit to their blood. Witches are not weakened by either, but in general heal slower so it evens out.

  I took a step back from the black-eyed vampire who was trying to use his will to influence my decision. I could feel my eyes changing as my wolf pushed to the front, and my shifter power rose up from inside of me. The demon whined to be free but I shut it down.

  “I’m only going to say this once, Maximus Compass. Don’t try that vamp bullshit on me again. If you try and stop me coming, I will do something bad enough to get myself thrown in there.”

  “Jessa,” Braxton said slowly.

  I spun and pointed my finger at him. “I’m an alpha wolf, I don’t need any of this overprotective crap in my life. I’m not letting some little boy rot in prison. End of story.” I tilted up my chin.

  I felt only a slight guilt that it wasn’t just this factor which propelled me. The rest of my guilt was reserved for the fact I couldn’t explain my real reasons because I was still keeping my dragon mark secret from my friends.

  Braxton studied me carefully, his eyes roaming over my face. He must have seen something there, because his right cheek lifted as he half grinned. I was blinded by white teeth and dimples, but I held his gaze. I couldn’t back down now after such a bold statement.

  “You can help.” He nodded firmly. “But until Mischa has control of her wolf, she’s too risky.”

  “What?” she blurted, opening her mouth to say more, but Maximus cut her off.

  “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

  His words hung in the air, weirdly suspended there as everyone stared at him. He’d just done a complete about-face not two minutes after declaring it was too dangerous for us wee-women folk. What the hell was going on with those two? Maximus had no time for weakness in others, and besides me and his family I’d never seen him give two shits about any supernatural. If anyone loved-and-left-’em with vigor, it was the vampire.

  He hurried to answer our questioning stares. “She’s Jessa’s sister, and if she wants to come along, well, we’re not her father to say no.” He shrugged it off, but the slightest red was staining his cheeks. Interesting.

  Jonathon cleared his throat. “Well, I am her father and I’d really rather you didn’t go, Mischa. I’ve trained Jessa, she knows how to fight and she’s tough, with full control of her shifting abilities. You would be vulnerable.”

  Mischa crossed her arms. There was the slightest tremble to her lips as she stared into the corner of the ceiling. I could tell she wanted to cry and I was kind of feeling sorry for her. But she didn’t argue, which of course made me want to argue for her.

  “What about a compromise?” I found myself saying. “While we search for the prison Mischa can be learning her abilities. If she shows enough power to control her wolf and look after herself, she can come with us to break out the boy.”

  We locked eyes and an understanding passed between us. A sense of twin-kinship.

  “I don’t need any heroes,” Braxton said. “I know I can’t stop you all from coming – no one ever listens to me, but when it boils down to the actual breakout, you’ll all do everything I tell you.”

  I almost snorted, but managed to keep it to myself.

  It was weird. From the moment the quads had returned and spoke of the dragon marked rumors and Nash, I’d felt this strange urge to go into the prison. Not to mention there was this fear deep in my gut, a fear that it was only a matter of time before something tore all of us apart. It was as if some sort of strange magic was floating around, and I knew I was being influenced. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  Chapter 8

  “Mischa!”

  I attempted to lower my voice, but it had been at least forty-two failed attempts at shifting and I was getting a tad growly. I was cold and hungry; someone should be feeding me while I was slaving away. It had been a week since the boys were released. They’d narrowed down the section of forest which had the prison beneath it, so now it was all about searching for the entrance. Since it moved every two days, they searched constantly, taking turns. The rest of us waited for the signal to infiltrate, and until then I was trying to help my useless sister. Yeah, I’m a right-old-bitch when I’m hungry.

  Mischa was struggling big-time. Her shifter abilities were unlocked, but her fear kept her from being able to relax and let the transformation happen. Sooner or later her wolf – or dragon – would force her, but for now the most we’d achieved were hairy arms. Not a huge success. Maximus appeared over my shoulder. He’d been off feeding, I could tell by the extra-flush in his cheeks. He dropped a kiss on my cheek.

  “How’s our girl doing?” he asked.

  We both stopped and stared at her writhing on the forest floor. Tyson had used a spell to clear the remnants of sludgy snow from this area and Jacob had a fire lit nearby, but Mischa still looked frozen.

  “I think this pretty much speaks for itself,” I said with a lift of my brows. “We’ve reached the stage where she needs a good wax and that’s about it.” I hoped the hairiness indicated that she was a wolf and not some sort of furry dragon. Which would be ridiculous.

  “Fuck you,” she snarled at me.

  “Oh, and we’ve advanced to cursing and our hearing has improved monumentally.”

  Maximus strode over to where Mischa was now in the fetal position. Bending down, he started murmuring to her, and no matter how I strained my ears I could not hear the words. Spoilsport.

  Jacob was jogging toward us as well, his face glowing, leaves scattered in his blond hair again. I took a step toward him. “Everything okay?”

  He scooped me up and spun me around. “Everything is fine, we’re free of the prison and there have been no attacks. I’m not going to complain.”

  I was set on my feet again. “Personally I’m finding it a little unnerving that no one has attacked or tried to frame you again. The last time was so sloppy it makes me wonder what the hell the point was.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest before turning back to watch Maximus and Mischa. The vampire had his hands wrapped around her biceps and I could see
he was trying to coach her. He wasn’t a shifter, so couldn’t know the exact process, but he understood how to channel power.

  “I’m confused also.” Jacob settled in next to me, arm around my shoulder. “At first I thought it was about getting us away from you, and then I thought it was about locking the four of us away so we couldn’t take over the council. But you’re right, it was sloppy, a reckless mess. So what the hell was the point of us being in there for a few days?”

  I straightened, his arm slipping down off my shoulder. Was the point simply to have them go in long enough to find Nash? Had it been a set-up? We needed to figure out who this Nash was and if there was any connection to him and someone on the outside. Or was it about making sure we discovered there were possible dragon marked in the prison. Had this still been aimed at Mischa and myself?

  The list of people who knew we were dragon marked was short: Jonathon, Lienda, Louis. I couldn’t imagine it being any of them. Of course Louis would be the most obvious. I didn’t know him very well. Maybe he had an agenda here? But still, what the hell would that be? I was supposed to go on a date with him tomorrow night. Maybe I’d ask a few pertinent questions.

  “Yo!” We all spun around to see Tyson and Braxton coming at us.

  Braxton’s voice was flat. “A and D starts in ten minutes, and we can’t miss it again.”

  Right, we had an attack and defense class at 9am. Braxton looked tired, he’d barely stopped searching since we returned. His need to find Nash was eating away at him. Unfortunately we had to keep up appearances, and college was not going anywhere. We still had three years left of classes. And it was important for Mischa. She needed to learn about the supernatural world more than any of us. Despite the fact she’d been to human college and held a degree in arts or some bullshit, she was woefully uneducated in the important things. Maximus helped Mischa to her feet. She straightened her shirt and brushed the dirt and leaves from her hair. Alright, time to book it or we’d be in shit again.

  We were quiet as we made our way through the streets and across town to the schooling block. We had to move at a fast jog, it was a fair distance. All of the different schooling levels were housed in this zone. The area was massive and the college spread out over most of this space. The buildings were old architecture, big, wooden structures that had plenty of space. We weren’t big on changing what still worked, and most had been standing for a very long time. I loved the character in each building, the scars from shifter fights, the black marks of misspells. History was recorded in and on the walls.

  “I’m really not looking forward to this again,” Mischa said as we opened the door to step into the gym.

  The smell was the first thing to hit me. I was used to it of course, but old sweat and blood was never my favorite. There were padded mats scattered around, to stop some of the hurt that was about to happen. In Mischa’s one and only A and D class since she’d returned to Stratford, well, she’d been a little dominated. Most of us had been fighting for years, and on the outside she’d been a cheerleader … which was in no way helpful here.

  I couldn’t halt my smile. “Hopefully Lincoln – the teacher, big horse shifter,” I added at her confused look, “teams you up with someone less … vigorous … this time.”

  She returned my smile with a narrowed eyed glare. Jacob and Tyson snorted with laughter as we crossed the room. What? It wasn’t my fault she’d gotten stuck with a jack rabbit shifter. The little critters were … enthusiastic. She was lucky it was fighting and not sex. There were some things that would never be a turn on. Rabbits were one.

  The room was already filled with various supernaturals. Everyone was out on the floor and they were mostly already teamed up.

  “Jessa, you’re with Candice,” said Lincoln with his bald head and perfectly white but a little bucked teeth.

  With a half eye-roll I shook my head at the Compasses before crossing through the room to stand in front of the vampire female. Candice was taller than me, broad and strong looking. Her skin was tanned and her hair was golden blond. She had silent, watchful brown eyes and I knew it would be a mistake to underestimate her. Rule number one in battle: Always watch the quiet ones.

  I didn’t know any humans personally, but I’d watched their television shows and it was clear that something set us supernaturals apart from them. It wasn’t just that most supernaturals were exceptionally good looking – even the demi-fey with all of their differences were still incredibly mesmerizing. More than that, it was this energy which was infused into us. We glowed with it and the shine of our skin and the gleam in our eyes foretold how we differed from regular Joes in the human world. A few humans seemed to have a glow to them – from my television watching anyways – and were probably half-breeds, but the majority faded to nothing beside us. I wasn’t being vain, it was simple fact.

  The demi-fey, who would be considered ugly by human standards, weren’t, they were just different. But if you truly studied them, the knobby knees, the foreign features, you found a uniqueness. Humans thought the stranger of the demi-fey were ugly because they did not understand them. And like all creatures, they feared what they did not understand.

  Mischa ended up next to me, on my right side, against a pixie. Her partner was one of the demi-fey who could change her size at will. She had very big, round eyes, and her nose and mouth were small, fading into the rest of her features. Her hair was coarse, standing up in spiky twirls around her head, and her skin the color of a sunset. In the past, demi-fey had been hunted almost to extinction by the very humans that we tried to protect. Now I was glad the supernatural communities provided a sanctuary for them.

  Lincoln was at the front of the room, his voice loud and bellowing. Typical horse. “Alright, we are on rotation today. Hand to hand.”

  Usually we trained with all types of weapons. I was able to hold my own with pretty much anything, but was particularly proficient in crossbow. I liked the power and ease, although it lacked accuracy when on the run. I sized up my opponent. Candice was vampire and would be quick, strong. I needed to use my shifter strength, otherwise she’d crush me. She came straight at me, her arms elevated in front of her and her strides strong. I didn’t hesitate, ducking her first blow and using my elbows to clip her unguarded chin. She was an offensive fighter but not great with keeping her guard up. I was distracted by Mischa hitting the mat next to me. The pixie had zipped around behind her and planted both feet into her back, slamming my twin face-first into the stinky, squishy floor.

  Of course my moment’s distraction was all Candice needed to crash into me, and, using a wrestling hold, flip me over and twist my arm behind my back. She held it at the point that the slightest exertion of pressure would break the bone. I’d be pissed, because even for me a broken bone took twelve hours to heal – unless I called in a healer. Luckily I was sneaky, and she’d left my other arm free. Stupid move really. Pushing down for leverage, I bucked, which loosened her hold. Seems she hadn’t had a true grip on my wrist. Swinging my legs around, I twisted my body for enough leverage to uppercut her. I followed through with my entire weight – well, the best I could from my position on the ground. Her screech was cut off as she slammed back into the mat. I was up and moving, but the whistle sounded before I could beat on her some more.

  “Move to your left,” Lincoln shouted.

  This continued on and on, each opponent with a different advantage depending on which supernatural race they were from. Vampires were so fast, and super strong. Shifters had unparalleled senses, our speed and strength not far behind vamps. The magic users had extra energy and the ability to use spells if they were quick enough – although Lincoln didn’t encourage spell-casting in hand to hand, it was supposed to be more about physical abilities. The fey were magical without needing any spells. They could blur themselves and almost act chameleon-like to blend into surroundings. They were so in tune with nature that the very air itself whispered, helping them gain advantage. In Stratford, we were low on female fey, who we c
alled Sirens. They had the ability to enthrall the mind with their calling song. It seemed to mainly affect males … go figure. Probably a reason we had so few. Men did plenty of stupid things without additional help from a clouded mind.

  Lastly, the demi-fey were all different. The pixies could fly, zap with energy, and be-spell with pixie dust. The trolls were like brick walls. You could hit them and they wouldn’t even move. Sometimes I wondered if they even noticed me hitting them. There were about twenty different demi-fey, but Stratford only had six species. Though others had come and gone through the years, so I’d met most of them. The mermaids were the strangest. They preferred places with large bodies of water, not forests, so despite our large tanked area, we never had long term mermaid residents.

  We continued to rotate. I was starting to feel the bruises. There’d been a few lucky hits in my distracted state. Maximus had somehow maneuvered himself next to Mischa and was helping her out. Which, luckily for her, resulted in her opponents going easy as on her, thinking her vampire bodyguard might pound them into the ground. He’d done that for me before, and I kind of felt a little put out that I no longer had him watching my back.

  Damn sisters, always stealing your favorite toys.

  I groaned when I saw my last opponent for the day – Melly, a six foot six, muscle-bound dickface. And I say that with no love at all because he was an ass who had tormented me for many years. For some reason, the bear shifter had a hate-on for me that would not disappear no matter what I did.

  “Well, if it isn’t the wolf princess.” Melly’s shoulder-length red hair was always scraggly. His skin was spattered with red freckles and his eyes were moss green. He spent most of his time in the forest. His family had all left Stratford last year, and unfortunately he’d decided not to go with them. I’d felt sorry for him … for roughly eight seconds before he’d buried me under a massive mound of autumn leaves. “Are you worried, princess? Hate for you to break a nail…” The mocking grin dropped from his features. “Or your neck,” he added quietly.