by Jaymin Eve
This knowledge might have slanted the actions of the fruit twins in a new light, breaking in to save all the marked – except I knew they hadn’t just done it to save them. They’d also been looking for Mischa and me. Selfish actions to free a megalomaniac king.
I remained on high alert as we wound along the corridor of prisoners, forcing myself not to watch the bleak faces behind the magic glass. I closed my ears to the rambling mutterings, the screams, the animal-like noises. Nothing I could do to help them. I wondered if Jonathon knew how harsh this prison was. Surely there had to be some sort of regulations on treatment of prisoners. It would be better to kill them than continue a lifetime of torture. Supernaturals lived for a very long time.
We encountered three more barred gates, but each time there was at least one male on guard, and they were more than helpful to the twins. I’d thought they were so badass when I’d first heard that two females were breaking out the dragon marked, but they were pretty much escorted right in and out. No risk. No badassery required. Posers.
The worst of all was the fact that so many supes had a weak enough mind that they could be influenced, although I knew it was harder to fight when taken unawares. And the twins were old and powerful. But still.
The cold was increasing as we traversed further into the mountain, and the path seemed to be tilted downwards, heading straight into the basement of this damned place, which gave me a very uneasy feeling. So much stone surrounded us now.
My wolf and dragon both started to growl and I had to cut off that line of thought to calm them down. And myself. Mostly myself, because I was starting to get a claustrophobic freak-out feeling.
“How much further?” I finally snarled, unable to stand the silent walking any longer.
Lemon graced me with a smirk. “Almost there, wolf. The weapon is in the very lowest dungeon of this prison. Where the oldest, most powerful and most evil prisoners rest.”
Awesome. And if we were truly lucky, these prisoners would all escape just before we got down there. You know, just for kicks.
With a sigh I settled in for the rest of the long walk. Eventually, we reached a sort of t-section and the twins chose to go left, the path started descending quite steeply. I was still trying to build an image of Krakov in my head. This place reminded me of underground images of ant hills, or the chambers below the pyramids in Egypt. The only light in this section was from small crystals embedded high in the stone walls.
“What was down the other path?” I asked, finding the t-section odd.
I couldn’t see which twin, but I thought it was Orange who answered. “That’s the mingling area. They take fifty prisoners at a time – any more and they don’t have enough guards to control them. This happens twice a week, for a few hours per group.”
Only twice a week. These prisoners must be literally insane.
“How is it that you know so much about the inner workings of the prisons?” These bitches were so suspect. I wished Dad or the quads were here. I was going to need someone in my corner. I was outnumbered and lacking vital information.
“We’re old, we have been moving through the supernatural world for a long time. And Krakov is a prison which is important to us.” Orange again, and surprisingly forthcoming with information. Usually when the crazy ones are loose lipped it’s because they are about to kill you. But surely the twins knew they couldn’t kill me. They were marked also, and had the same lack of vulnerabilities.
But maybe they knew what our weaknesses were. I wasn’t surprised that the Four didn’t know, no one was going to broadcast it to them, but I sort of thought the twins might have the knowledge.
The cold was starting to bother me. It was icy enough to take my breath away and freeze my eyeballs. Moisture gathered on my lashes, and my lips felt dry and chapped. I was dreaming of food, a warm bed, and a naked Braxton. Maybe I could eat my food off a naked Braxton while in bed. Yes … yes, that was a great plan.
I knew when we neared the lower levels of the prison. The energy grew strong, the securities pressing. The elements woven into the bars of the prisoner’s cells were visible, and on instinct I shied closer to the stone side. For the first time in ages my eyes alighted on the prisoners. I blinked a few times. Unlike the sad souls up higher, all of the ones down here were sitting perfectly still, making no noise, and all staring straight at their bars as if they could see through the magic one-way-glass. The only reassurance was that their eyes didn’t follow me, but still it felt eerily like they could see what was happening.
In this row I recognized a few famous supernatural criminals. From what I could remember of history class, this appeared to be the section for crims who had created massive publicity in the human world. I growled as a familiar face came into view – a sorcerer, his white eyes identifying him immediately. I wasn’t sure of his real name, the text referred to him as The Rostov Ripper. He was a serial killer of the worst kind. He loved young girls, luring them in, raping and torturing them. A pity that his incarceration didn’t include daily disembowelment. I was actually a little surprised he was still alive. The high security and separation in this prison had allowed him to keep his head. Which was a fucking shame.
There were three gates in this small section alone, eight guards, and the only one to even look twice at us was a female shifter, and she was immediately silenced by her partner with a right hook to the jaw. This was how all the female guards we’d seen had been subdued, which pissed me off so bad. The twins were manipulative assholes; they cared for no one but themselves. Typical sirens, so used to controlling males that they thought they could control everything.
When we reached the end of the path, there were no more bars, and no deviation off the path. It was a stone wall, dead end.
“So what’s the plan now?” I was quite proud by the level of sarcasm present in my words.
They turned and their twin grins were freaking unnerving. I wanted to punch both of them in the nose.
They spoke together. “Now, we open the wall.”
Sure, of course. Open the wall.
“How are you going to do that?” I asked. My hackles raised as the two of them closed in on either side of me. I backed up a little, both hands held slightly aloft so I could fight them if needed.
Orange flashed her dark eyes in my direction, followed by white teeth. “Easy, just a little blood offering.”
A little what the what? Not on my watch, sister, I bleed for no one. I never even donated blood to Maximus, and I loved him more than life. I started to back up faster, keeping a certain amount of distance between me and them. They stopped pursuing me about halfway along this small section, and I was just wondering what the hell they were doing when they both spun and pounced on my moronic sister.
I didn’t hesitate to change directions, but I knew I was too far away to get there in time. All I could do was watch in horror.
They were far more skilled than she was. It took no time for Orange to produce a knife, and with a move any expert would be proud of, she plunged it into Mischa’s side, sliding it between her ribs. A gasping yelp escaped from my twin’s mouth, and she collapsed immediately. I could hear her ragged breathing and knew they’d punctured her lung.
My initial fly kick smashed Lemon in the back of the head, slamming her face first into the stone. She bounced back up without pause and spun to engage me. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek, scraped from where she’d hit the wall. I growled, my hands shifting into claws as I gouged at her. I had to get to Mischa and Lemon was in my way.
Over her shoulder I noticed Orange reaching down to hoist my twin into her arms. Furious, I clocked Lemon, my elbow smashing her jaw. But again I couldn’t reach Mischa in time. Orange sent her flying toward the wall blocking the path.
Blood splattered as she hit the rock, and then I sensed the magic. A burst of power shot out through us, ancient, strong – like Louis’ magic always felt.
Lemon tried to duck by me. I swung around and punched her. I got a good
hit in because she was distracted – trying to reach her sister. Perfect opportunity. I punched her again, dodging her feeble attempts to defend herself, and finally my elbow put her down. This time she stayed there. Kicking her once in the gut, I leapt across her body and moved to help Mischa.
The ground rumbled and I skidded over the rocks to reach my twin, yanking her into my arms, pulling her away from the falling debris. Whatever the bitch twins had done was bringing down the wall. With a bang it disintegrated, rocks rolling out across the floor, leaving behind an entrance into what looked like another small stone area.
The twins both stood above where I was cradling Mischa and stared down at me.
“Follow or your sister will die.” Orange looked excited, and that scared me more than her anger.
I could hear Mischa’s wheezing, her small whimpers sending panicky trills down my spine. I forced my panic into anger, sneering as growls fell from my mouth. “Marked can’t die.”
The twins glanced at each other before turning back to me and, synchronized, both laughed, the dead, empty laughter of crazy people. “Of course the marked can die, and the countdown is on for Mischa. You don’t want to delay.”
Truth. I knew those bitches held the key to our mortality.
Without removing my eyes from them, I slowly stood, my sister’s slender form cradled in my arms. “Hurry the fuck up, and you better hope and pray that Mischa is okay.”
I shut down my emotions, schooling my features, before following them through that entrance – I had to shift Mischa around so she would fit – and into the next tunnel. The moment I got a free hand I was going to activate my tracker. Mischa was fading, and something told me I was going to need help myself in the next few minutes.
Chapter 18
Mischa stared up at me, her wide green eyes glassy. Shock and pain had set in.
She blinked a few times, bubbles of watery blood forming at the corner of her mouth, and it took her more than one attempt to make a noise. I had to move very close to hear what she was saying.
“I’m … I … I’m sor … sorry, Jess. Said would … get … Max…” She trailed off, her head falling back against me as she ran out of steam.
I could feel the warmth of her blood still seeping out of her side. Her shifter healing should be slowing that flow. Why the heck was it taking so long? My eyes darted toward the twins. Was that knife infused with silver? I tilted my head over and sniffed at her wound. The burning tingle indicated there was definitely silver involved.
“Enough screwing around.” The command came from one of the fruity bitch twins. “Move your ass, Jessa.”
My head flew up, and for the first time I noticed the new area we’d stepped into.
“Oh screw me sideways,” I groaned, frantically looking left and right. I knew this place, I’d seen it before … in a dream.
It was a stone tunnel, about five feet wide and twenty long, ending with a massive symbol against a rocky wall. A compass symbol, the four points perfectly clear in the dim light.
“What the hell is this weapon?” I snarled, moving closer, almost as if I couldn’t help myself. The symbol was calling to me. I had a burning need to see it more clearly.
Orange and Lemon were already standing before the image, one on either side, facing me. “The dragon king had a scepter that he used to rule the races. It is needed to free him.”
I shook my head. “I won’t help you. I don’t care what you want from me, I’m taking my sister and getting out of here.” I spun on my heel, forcing myself to leave. It was tough, like dragging myself through sticky taffy. The compass pulled me back to it. I had to focus all of my energy just to take a step.
Laughter rang out, washing down the corridor, but I didn’t stop. I made it to the doorway in the stone, turning sidelong so I could fit back through again. Truth was, I preferred the hall with all the serial killer sociopaths over the twins.
Orange’s voice followed me along passageway. “Two things are going to happen, Jessa. Firstly, Mischa will never stop bleeding without us. The knife was coated in silver, and a spell which cannot be reversed by any but us.” No matter how far I walked, her voice continued to follow. “Second … every guard you have to go through to escape from Krakov is going to bring you back to us. We control the male mind, you have no chance.”
Shit. She was right. I could not get out of this place on my own. It was too narrow for my dragon, and in animal form I couldn’t carry Mischa. My sister was now slipping in and out of consciousness, and considering her blood was starting to soak the floor beneath us, I knew they were right about the wound healing.
I growled as Orange spoke again. “Help us and we will make sure your sister is healed, and we’ll give you the weapon. You can have it. The dragon king will not rise for two more days, so you will have time to try and hide it from us.”
It wasn’t as if I had much of a choice.
I exhaled deeply before turning back to the direction I’d just come from. The twins were a long way from me now, still standing on either side of the compass mark. Knowing I couldn’t run from this, I stomped along, my arms barely registering the strain of holding Mischa. It took me no time to reach them.
“What do I have to do?”
I spoke each word slowly, trying to figure out how to kill them with jagged words and angry looks.
“Blood,” Lemon said, “we just need a little of your blood.”
I took a step back, before gently lowering my sister to the floor. Straightening again I made my way across to the twins. They must have sensed my compliance, because they turned their backs on me and faced the compass. Knowing this could be my best chance, I slipped my hand beneath my shirt, my hand slick with Mischa’s blood. I could feel the spell on my skin. Laying my palm across it, I called for Braxton. Out loud and mentally. Just in case it required one or the other. Orange flipped her head around, looking first at me and then down the hall.
“Your friends can’t save you. Just give us what we want and no one else needs to get hurt.”
I trusted them about zero out of a million, so it was easy to ignore every word they shot at me. Braxton. I tried again, but … shit, something was wrong. The spell was still cold against my skin, and I knew if it had been activated I’d have felt heat. What the eff was going on? Louis would not have made a mistake. He said I needed to say the name of my mate, which was Braxton. So what was wrong?
“Blood!” Lemon was more demanding than her sister.
I flipped her off, and with a pounce quicker than a shifter cat, she had Mischa in her arms. “You want to see your sister suffer more? She still has one lung functioning, but maybe if she was drowning in her own blood, it would hurry you along.”
Shit. Fuck. Ass. Balls. Why had I put her on the ground? I needed free hands to fight, but I’d also let them have their only leverage back. I must have hit my head on the way in here or something. This time it was Lemon who had the knife in her hand, and as she lifted her arm to plunge it into the other side of Mischa’s body, I lurched forward.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Take my friggin’ blood, but you better hope that Mischa and I die after this, because I am making it my life mission to kill you both.”
I leveled a hard gaze on each of them so they knew how serious I was.
Orange snatched my right hand. I almost wrenched my arm back. Touching her was like touching poison ivy. My skin immediately itched. My palm burned as she slashed across the fleshy pad. Silver would keep this wound open for a lot longer. Blood immediately eased to the surface before spilling free.
Orange dragged me two steps to the wall and slammed that palm down onto the north groove in the compass. So this was what they meant by me being north. Damn jinn, and damn everyone else for not giving me more information.
Lemon took my sister’s hand and placed it on the south point. No need for a cut, Mischa was already bleeding everywhere. Then the twins sliced their own hands, the final blood for east and west. As the four of our palms
sat in the divots on our compass, an unnatural wind flooded along the corridor. I shivered as the first icy strands touched me, and then gasped as it turned to a burning heat. It was as if two seasons had simultaneously flooded across the prison.
The twins started to chant, their words melodic, almost song-like: “Summon, arise, you are called. Be one, fulfill the curse, right the wrong. Bring back which was lost so long ago. Open the door to the inbetween.”
I did not like the sound of that one bit. I tried to yank my hand back, but it was as if my blood was the strongest glue in existence. The wind picked up, howling as it shifted between the iciest cold I’d ever felt to the heat of a hundred suns.
“Summon, arise, you are called. Larkspur!”
They finished on a shout and suddenly my palm was burning and I still couldn’t pull it away. I slipped my free hand onto my stomach again. I had to try the spell, I needed help.
This was about more than a freaking scepter, the power here was off the charts.
“Who are you calling?” I shouted. “Who is Larkspur?”
My hand was on Louis’ spell again, and as I asked my question I mentally screamed for Braxton. I needed him, I needed my mate. The spot on my stomach flared to life.
The compass image started to shake, the entire wall trembling. Just when I thought my arm was going to vibrate right off, I managed to wrench my hand free, cradling my burning palm. After a few moments, when the pain didn’t subside, I unclenched my hand and examined it.
What the shit?
Imprinted on my palm was the symbol that had been etched above the north divot, burned into my skin. Orange shoved me backwards. I hadn’t been expecting it and hit the deck hard. Mischa followed, tossed at me by Lemon.
I caught my sister, before locking in on the bitches again. I gasped. One of the twins held a weapon. Did that just appear from the compass? Was this the weapon? The scepter was aptly named, looking exactly like the ones held by ancient rulers. Gold, with a giant stone on top, sort of like an opal, shot through with many different colors, the other end tapered down to a point. While I was examining it, Lemon leaned herself back and slammed the opal right into the center of the vibrating compass symbol.
