Prince in the Tower

by Stephan Morse

  My rap sheet was yet another aspect of my life buried in order to stay out of sight. No one could find me if I didn't get caught or use credit cards. Now the attempt at subterfuge was botched beyond repair.

  “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to representation by a council member of the race you choose, should you be unable to afford counsel your governing body will be notified and may choose to provide counsel.”

  This idiot probably thought I was a wolf. My size, shape, attitude, all the little tells I had would rearrange into a lie. Muni’s charm made sure people would chalk everything up to me being pack. That charm was charred to a crisp and removed.

  “Everything you say and do can and will be used against you in a trial by non-racially biased peers. Your council may choose not to be present during questioning and no conversation between you and any member of the government shall be considered personal, private, or sacred.” He sounded eager and rushed through the last part.

  I kept my eyes closed and let the grogginess pass unchallenged. The second figure cleared his throat. He wore a plain white coat and inspected the machine’s readouts, then looked at my arm. Two fingers pressed around the needle checking it. There was a bag hanging above, similar to the blood pouches I’d given Kahina during her transition.

  “I'm also required to advise you that you are currently under sedation for the safety of all staff members. This sedation is classified as a muscle relaxer and has been ruled to have no long term adverse effects, mentally, physically, or spiritually, on any species.”

  He annoyed me. The man talked on and my head swam from the onslaught of memories upon first waking. I opened my eyes and found the world still black, and counted backward from ten. It didn't help me feel any better so I counted again. I was in the middle of my third lap when the doctor coughed and the law enforcement official sighed.

  “Is he coherent?” The man’s shoes squeaked as he turned. I couldn’t really see any of them, only vaguely feel the parting sensations.

  “He should be,” said the one with a lab coat.

  “Hearing functional, understands English?”

  “According to his file, yes, and yes,” the doctor said.

  “Can you vouch as a witness that he has been advised of his rights and chose not to respond?” the person reading my rights said. I still didn’t know exactly or who or what role he filled. He sounded like a grumpy desk officer.

  “I heard you,” I finally chimed in, exhausted and annoyed at the same time. True anger would require less sedation.

  “Good. Are you requesting council prior to hearing the charges laid against you?”

  The lighter set of footsteps padded out of the room.

  “No,” I said.

  It'd do no good anyway. In all my travels I never once found a lawyer who might understand. Not to mention the entire legal system confused me. Daniel handled this shit and he was unlikely to be present.

  “Good.” The man’s voice paused. “That makes this easy. I've got you for the murder of six humans, attempted murder of another seventeen, assault of three federal employees, attempted sabotage of military equipment worth more than your life, and an attempted escape from lawful custody.” The list came in a grumpy litany. I'd be willing to bet this man was somehow a distant relation to Barnie.

  Other memories surfaced in flashes. I'd been chasing a lead Daniel supplied me, looking for a strange creature living in the swamps. That brute had turned out to be Ted, a dim witted behemoth-sized man. Barnie, on the other hand, was pure human; shotgun touting, business, and almost broken upstairs. He and Ted came as a pair.

  Gods above, Ted could hit hard. I tried to bring a hand up to my face, remembering where the hunched titan had absently backhanded me some forty feet. The cuffs rattled and shook me out of another bout of history.

  “Do you understand the charges against you?” the officer repeated himself while my mind wandered.

  “Sure,” I said, trying to lean my head back. “Everything’s my fault.”

  He chewed something a few times that sounded squishy. After a few smacks he said, “Legally, I'm required to ask if that's a confession or antiquated sarcasm, in case you're a vampire.”

  “I was in the helicopter if that's what you're asking.” That was a more recent event. I'd leapt into the hanging vehicle, chasing the spirit creature. Honestly, I'd probably saved their lives, not endangered them.

  “And the murders?”

  “I killed the White Lady,” I admitted. Memories of her screams tore through my mind, making me wince.

  “You admit to willfully ending lives of a species you do not belong to?”

  I chuckled weakly at the absurdity of his question. No one belonged to my species. My head bobbed anyway. He probably thought I was talking about a Caucasian woman and not some strange creature that leeched peoples’ energy or stilled hearts by screaming.

  Technically, no one belonged to her species either.

  “Good. Interspecies murders make my life a lot easier,” he said after a grunt.

  I didn't admit the murder because he asked, but to see if I felt a shred of remorse over the actions I'd committed. It turned out there wasn't any guilt over the deaths in defense of what was mine.

  Even with my mind sorting itself out, I knew remorse wasn't something that plagued me. I'd been briefly worried about my lack of emotion, but the man I was at the core had never cared. Defending one's belongings held no rules. Even humans would act like animals when their prized possessions were threatened. The fear of losing what we held dear could turn Saints into monsters.

  I'd questioned Evan, the elf who'd recognized me even in my disguise, asking if I was an Angel. He'd said that I was nothing so noble. In that he was right. I held a distinct advantage over Saints; I'd started out a monster.

  Losing Julianne? What I'd done to Kahina? The pain I'd inflicted on that literal bitch from the mercenary pack? I felt guilty about those things and more. There was a list of events in my life that I'd redo if the cost wasn't so high. Five years. That’s all I’d earned.

  “I get a call, right?” I asked, coming out of the deep thoughts.

  “Legally. ‘Course with your admission you'll be shipped off right afterward. A full trial will still be issued to determine sentence length, but you've admitted enough for a go directly to jail card.”

  “Hell.” I knew what that meant. There were three places in the world that housed interspecies offenders. Only one of them covered the Western Sector.

  His smile was tangible. “That's right, you’ve booked yourself an express trip to Atlas Island.”

  “How long could it be?”

  His head shook. “To be determined at your hearing.” The man’s shoulders bobbed to my faded tactile senses. “I'm pushing for twenty to life myself.”

  “I probably saved the lives of all those people.”

  “Doesn't matter. When a wolf murders some woman, color aside, it’s a hate crime. Crimes by other races are considered dangerous”—he sounded grumpy and happy—”to The Balance achieved by the Accord of Caesar.”

  My file probably said lone wolf with no pack from Daniel’s handiwork. Thinking of the Western Sector agent caused other memories to flicker through.

  I chuckled then outright laughed as the latest chunk cruised through. It was Daniel's words. I'd asked him why he bothered keeping me alive. The best method of keeping peace in the world would have been just to kill me in the same way normal people would disarm a nuke. His answer was still funny in a morbid sort of way.

  The law enforcement man paused his chewing. “Laughing at anything in particular?”

  “I should have gone to Atlas a long time ago,” I said.

  “Yep.” His shoulders shrugged and the rustle of fabric lingered along my faint perceptions. “I did wonder how you'd skated by.”

  Clearly he'd read the rest of my file. There should have been a line that said, 'Jay Fields, royally screwing his life up so the world can exis
t in peace.' Maybe right after, ‘Will punch for food.’ They’d never read the first wordy line without a hook.

  “I'm only free for one reason, Officer.” My head felt numb and the words were slow.

  “I ain't got shit at home but a pizza to reheat. So, regale me.”

  “I'm a monster. If even half of what I've done is on that sheet it'd be pretty obvious.”

  “Yep. It's an impressive resume for a hitter. But now you’re repeating yourself. So, what's the big secret? Why'd they let you fly free for this long?” He was chewing on something thick and heavy. Its scent filled the room as his saliva mixed with the edges of an unlit cigar.

  I could see it now. Daniel's face as we hiked up a hill. We'd been at a park on the outskirts of town. Daniel was twenty, going away for college. Sector agents were required to earn a four year degree, even Hunter born. It was that day, there, on the hill, when I'd asked why Daniel was friends with me. His kind chased down all non-humans and ended their lives. It was in their blood as sure as the fire was in mine.

  The world had stopped. Chirping ceased, wind halted, and even the highway nearby seemed empty. Daniel’s normally cheerful face, complete with surfer accent, fell away leaving an alien look. No emotion. Not even a ghost of exhaustion. He stared at me, serious, still, poised to do something, like the world centered upon his words as he uttered a vital truth of our relationship.

  I told the officer words I'd heard from Daniel, “Sometimes it takes a monster to kill a monster.”

  Daniel's words had continued. I didn't say any more to the officer. My mind kept on happily recovering the lost moment again and again. 'I'll do anything to keep humanity safe. Even if it means the betrayal of everything I hold dear. Even befriending the enemy,’ he said. Daniel the Betrayer was the title my other thoughts had given him. Of me, of his own kind, of everyone—for the good of us all.

  The Western Sector motto. Everything for the peace.

  “Right. Makes perfect sense. So, you'll fit in at Atlas with the rest of the loonies,” the officer said. Without further questions he left the room, chewing furiously at his mouthpiece.

  I sat there, staring with unfocused eyes, wondering what to do next.

  3

  Atlas Island

  People signed papers, injected liquid into my veins, and shuffled me over to a pay phone. No one trusted me with a cell. It didn’t matter; legally anything I said would be recorded.

  I only knew a few numbers by heart. Kahina’s was one. Calling her was out because I’d jerked the woman around too much for one lifetime. Maybe in sixty or so years I’d look her up and we could try again. A flash of my father’s memories suggested we’d both live a long time. Being inhuman had perks.

  Evan didn’t have a cell and would only depress me even more. Bottom Pit would answer, but calling them would lead to questions from law enforcement. Getting in touch directly was out. My files might link to Roy’s family but I didn’t want to put them under the law’s gaze.

  Daniel Crumfield could have done something but was undercover and there was no telling who managed my information. Someone had probably been alerted. His fiancée, formerly known as Ann when under cover, might work. Eddy, who had also been undercover with the Order of Merlin might help. Who else did Daniel trust?

  Julianne had been in the know, but she died. Hell. If I’d been me, wholly me, saving her would have been easy. I ground my teeth and tried not to get sucked back into the self-loathing. We were past that and in a new place shit storm. I was me at long last, and I’d bide my time until these memory flashes settled, then take control.

  Julianne’s brother, Thomas, could notify those involved. Trying to remember anyone else’s number or name was difficult past the almost random bursts of memory passing through. I stood staring at a memory of a girl with a fantastic ass lap dancing for a solid minute before the phone in my hand fully registered.

  I dialed the bar. After four rings a harried sounding waitress answered. The background was loud with cheers. No telling what night it was, but there was probably a game on of some sort.

  “JBG, how can I help?” Not a voice I recognized. She’d also abbreviated the bar’s name which might be a new practice. They’d always just called it Julianne’s before.

  “Hey, Thomas there?”

  “Thomas who? Who is this?”

  “Jay, for Julianne’s brother.”

  “Jay? For Thomas. Uhhhh... all right, he should be around. Somewhere.” The person on the other end didn’t even bother to muffle the line before yelling across the bar.

  “Tom! Answer the fucking phone, you loser!” Voices broke out in laughter, shouts and jeers. Clearly there were more than a few people nearby. They chanted Tom’s name over and over.

  “What!” I could hear the man himself among the noise.

  “Phone, moron!” There was a clank of noise. She’d probably dropped the phone and went back to handling customers. Scratching noises nearly shocked me out of a drug induced stupor.

  “’Ello, man of the hour speaking?”

  “Tom, it’s Jay.”

  “Holy Hell, princess, aren’t you dead?” he said.

  “No.”

  “That’s fucking awesome, man. Want me to tell the ball and chain?” The wolf sounded drunk but excited. “Scratch that, you should drop by and celebrate with us! Bring the old lady yourself. She didn’t like us too much despite our build building get together.”

  “What? No, listen.” Too many thoughts crossed my mind at once, distracting me.

  “No, you listen!” his voice lingered drunkenly. “I got the job!”

  “I don’t have time,” I started to explain. These calls were often cut off, or so I’d been told.

  “I start Sector training next week! You gotta drop by. The guys are throwing me this party, strippers, strippers! I don’t know where they found these girls but man. Both hands. Full—”

  “They’re shipping me to Atlas.”

  Thomas laughed loudly into the phone. “Got you too, huh? I thought the vampire thing covered all of it. They took Stacy away for a six month stretch on reckless driving!” Thomas was shouting in the background at the other guys. “Jay’s going to Atlas!”

  His crowd cheered, but they hopefully had no idea who or what it was about. Jay should be another name in a faceless crowd from Muni’s charm. I rubbed the wrist where it’d been.

  “Tom, I need you to let my people know. It’s important.”

  I’d process what he said after this call. After this call, I might not be able to use a phone again. Atlas had rules, but as before, I’d been told about the place and never been there.

  “Hey, Jay, man, min or max.”

  “What?”

  “You wayward or windward?”

  “What?”

  “Listen, you end up beach side, look Stacy up, she’s serving out her time in minimum. I mean, unless some guy hits on her. Then she’ll probably go max. That’d be bad.” He booed drunkenly.

  “Tom, can you tell my family!” Any of them would do. Roy would tell the others.

  “Sure, man, sure! You have family?”

  “Tom! These ladies didn’t join us to be wallflowers! They’re here for a party. You better get over here and—” another voice I recognized yelled in the background. It sounded like Steven, a brown haired man who could pull in ladies with frightening ease. I prayed it was Steven, which felt like a contradiction. He’d tell Roy and the others as long as Thomas babbled near him.

  “Yeah. Okay! Okay! I’ll tell your people. Wait, you got people?” Thomas replied while growing distant. The phone disconnected. Would this work? He’d shouted my situation to the entire room. That was potentially good and bad.

  Hell. It was too late to worry about it. My next stop was Atlas Island. It occurred to me halfway through deportation that I hadn’t asked once how Leo was doing. Had he been shipped off as well? Had his brothers escaped?

  That whole situation with Thomas becoming a Sector agent was weird. T
hat sort of thing happened, but rarely. He was a full wolf, and his pack hadn’t been doing too hot since Julianne passed on. Maybe getting him into Western Sector would help in more ways than one. Daniel might have engineered it just to get Thomas into a controllable position.

  Pack memory was one of the hardest to mess with according to Muni. The rest of us had to take her word. Thomas already knew more than he should, and by making him an agent he’d have to break ties with his old pack. That felt almost too clever for anyone but Daniel.

  The chopper ride was boring. Two grown men kept unblinking gazes on me, and hands ready at their firearms. I was so sedated I threw up as we flew over the ocean. Being in a car had made me sick before, this was much worse. Especially when I understood why.

  I could fly. The thought made me grin even as I fought the latest wave of nausea. More memories rushed forward.

  My wings were expansive leathery extensions. I could almost feel the tingle of freedom from memories of nighttime flights. Never during the day, there were too many lights, too many video cameras, and phones with the ability to take pictures. It’d be even worse now than it had been five years ago. Cell phones had come a long way.

  Once these drugs were out of my system I could shift and fly back home. It was more north than east. The cords that connected me to those things I’d claimed grew easier to feel. Slipping into my other sight rapidly returned to automatic. The process would only increase in speed as my wits gathered. It might take a few days or weeks. Reconciling five years of memories against a lifetime couldn’t be simple.

  Finally, having spent most of the ride dry heaving, we started to descend. Our destination was a massive block like fortress near a beach. Imposing gates and tall fences were electrified while their warning labels were worn from age.

  Atlas was a huge island. The prison sat on one side, where there was a vaguely beautiful beach, complete with huge barbed fences. That had to be windward, as the waves were blowing in from great swells all up and down the coastline. Watching impossibly clear water bob made me sicker. Fish, reefs, and a pod of whales; I saw them all while emptying the contents of my belly.