Prince in the Tower (Royal Scales Book 4)

by Stephan Morse

  “Like what?”

  “You could have killed the vampire the first time.”

  “Then I’d be stuck here forever,” he said.

  “But your sister would be safe, right?” I asked.

  Nathan stood there. Chances were this line of reasoning was nothing new.

  “That burnout she’s shackled to is still alive, angry, and here you’ve been stuck. Is she even alive?” The sooner we sorted this, the quicker I could go back to being addled.

  I didn’t need to turn my eyes away from the rock to feel Nathan’s features contort. Eyebrows lowered and lips curled. His arm twitched. If it’d been me I would have punched something by now.

  “She’s alive. I call her every time I can,” Nathan answered.

  “So your great plan is to survive, get out, and do this all again?” I asked.

  Leo busily twisted part of his sheets and wove it through the upper bunk. Cheap cotton threading rubbed against skin and smooth metal. Simms wasn’t using the bed right now, and it felt like the youngest Forge intended to get a sweat going.

  The rock in my hands captivated my attention. There were divots, grains cutting in different directions, and a very porous inside. I passed my palm over it, trying to understand what it might turn into if I carved away at the edges. Chess pieces seemed overplayed.

  “What else can I do?”

  “Kill him,” I said flatly.

  Leo almost looked ashamed. “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m not in here for selling Girl Scout cookies.” The words came out with a distracted taint. I hadn’t really been paying attention to their words or my conversation.

  I turned back to the rock. Maybe it could be rounded enough to form a marble? There was enough solid matter inside it’d be possible. Some of the grains were turned wrong and it’d require a lot of sanding.

  “Killing isn’t easy,” Nathan Simms protested.

  “It is. Doesn’t matter who, or what race. Especially if you’re fighting to protect what you care for.” I looked at their faces. Both wore expressions I could already feel. A mix between being disturbed and a bit frightened.

  I refocused on my rock and ignored them.

  Night passed. Nathan limped more the next day. Leo bubbled with anger but kept his mouth shut this time. Our input was unwanted or impossible for Nathan to follow.

  Once again time passed. Eventually, I received word Ms. Sauter was returning to Atlas Island. I’d managed to stay on strike one despite my tendency to push peoples’ buttons. Spike hadn’t helped any. I’d been watching his barely subtle abuse of Nathan for days now.

  The time came, and I was escorted into the visitation room. There sat Ms. Sauter in the same clothes, with the bag and two electronic devices on the floor next to her.

  “Mr. Fields,” she greeted me.

  “Ms. Sauter,” I responded in kind.

  She got straight to the point. “Did you have time to put together the details for my case with Stacy?”

  They hadn’t provided me with writing utensils, and my memory was fifty shades of broken, but I’d managed to clear up a mental recount of the events.

  My potential lawyer was okay taking a verbal statement. She recorded it onto a tablet program that converted everything to text. We read it over and corrected some items, and then signed the screen. I felt like the thing was near breaking as my finger dragged across the thin layer of plastic.

  I hummed. Her device was a neat toy, though. I couldn’t see myself carrying around something that big, ever. I’d probably get lost trying to figure out how to get off the main screen. Maybe they offered classes as a part of their rehabilitation attempts.

  My resume would know no bounds. Collections, protection, and all-around puncher of faces. Next, I could be a self-proclaimed master of digital button pressing. I shook my head and tried not to sigh at my own stupidity.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Now, at least as far as Stacy’s concerned, I take your statement, combine it with the other evidence, and shove as much of her activities under Tribunal Protection as I can manage. The rest goes onto the pack.”

  Ms. Sauter fiddled with a finger, twirling a nonexistent ring around. I pretended not to notice. She’d had two rings, both missing because of me.

  “How is Stacy?”

  “She’s running around here somewhere. Hooking up with one trashy inmate after another. She hasn’t been stable since...”

  “Right.” Stacy and Julianne had been an item, and now they weren’t. My fault again. “Another sin on the pile,” I said and sighed.

  Ms. Sauter huffed and pulled her hands apart. Moments later she was flipping a practiced finger through the digital device. She stopped over various notes while pursing her lips.

  “Either way, a deal’s a deal.” The pad flipped over showing me squint worthy letters. “Here’s a list of charges to be filed against you by”—she took it back for a moment and scrolled down—“a lot of people.”

  “Sounds hopeless.”

  “Parts. There are holes all over the activity. A period of years where you drop off, then some of it’s covered by Tribunal law too.”

  “Is...”

  I paused and tried to figure out what had happened. According to Daniel, Muni was cleaning up parts of my sordid actions. I’d been working to keep Kahina protected during the most violent portions, aside from Camp Grace, the Order’s little militia training outpost. They had held me as a hostage then tried to blow me up. That could hardly be my fault.

  I fiddled with the tablet enough to scroll down. Sure enough, they had me involved in a lot of the action, but the worst action had been marked by Ms. Sauter in bold and underlined. Confessing to killing someone outside my race was an easy charge against me.

  “I’ll give you the same advice I’d give my own pack,” she said. “You need to figure out how much of this you want to fight. Most of the charges won’t stick without evidence. This entire swath here is sketchy at best.”

  She fidgeted with her empty ring finger again, then tucked back her hair and cocked her head to the side, looking at the digital screen. She raised an eyebrow. “Almost like it happened to someone else.”

  I shook my head and tried to remember how long it’d been since a woman actually looked at me. Ms. Sauter had a teenage daughter, too. I took a breath and blinked through the stupid thought passing by my brain and moved onward.

  “It feels like someone else was there. But it was me. But here for this vampire stuff like Stacy, I’d prefer not to”—how did I put this tactfully without giving too much away?—“not to involve anyone from her household. If I can.”

  “Well, I can leave those charges alone. They weren’t what landed you in here anyway.” She paused again. “Though your statement is a matter of public record and the Rhodes household might pick up on it. She’s got a good legal team on retainer, and her husband is twice as vigilant.”

  Hearing about Reginald set me on edge. I almost broke my chains in frustration. I wanted to put my foot through that man’s head. Kahina’s husband, Reginald, was a royal asshole who would be solved another day.

  “Right then.” Ms. Sauter wasn’t stupid. Wolves were better with body language than any other race. “I talked to your friend.”

  “Huh?” My teeth ground together.

  “Mr. Forge.”

  Familiarity calmed me down. “Roy,” I confirmed.

  “Yes. He’s rather…” She paused, looking flustered for a moment.

  “Large.”

  “That’s one word. I would have said brutish,” Ms. Sauter quickly responded.

  “Would you believe he listens to classical music?”

  “Really?”

  I smiled as somewhat friendly memories passed through.

  “He used to play violin in high school,” I said.

  “That sounds impossible.”

  “He broke more than a few.” Those incidents had resulted in Roy being frustrated and angry at everything. I cou
ld tell he’d had a bad night when the vibration of string snapping preceded stair stomping and the dull thud of a punching bag.

  Ms. Sauter was happy. The wet look to her eyes and how she stared off into the distance were both obvious clues. For a moment I swore she almost bit her lower lip, considering something.

  “His son is in here. Leo Forge. Same cell.” I dropped the hammer, trying to clear one problem before it began. “With a much lighter sentence.”

  “Oh.” She visibly deflated.

  I shrugged. “He’s a nice enough kid, but he’s struggling to figure out how to be an adult. Roy’s, we, had a tough childhood. Imagine the buried rage a wolf deals with, from childhood until the day you die.”

  Ms. Sauter cleared her throat and checked her watch. “We don’t have a lot of time to talk about other people and their parents.”

  “You brought up Roy,” I said. She also was interested in him which shocked me.

  Her body dipped just a little as if physically avoiding my words. She flipped through the device.

  “Some notes, depending on how we want to pursue this.” She flipped the tablet around again then zoomed in on a few lines of text.

  I read through it briefly and applied my limited legal understanding to what was in front of me. The effort was a failure since legalese made no sense to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked

  “The Accord of Caesar. Written during The Purge.”

  One line stood out among all the other gibberish. “And this part? It’s still”—I swallowed and tried not to feel sick—“still valid?”

  “At its core? Vaguely. Legally there’s been no announced cases. Though there were a few reforms here in Western Sector.”

  “Then this says…” The idea she was pointing out was too much to believe. My mind could barely register more than faint horror.

  “As translated—roughly, from the original Greek—all those belonging to an unrecognized race are to be killed on sight.”

  Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. This law was a death sentence for existing. I groaned and swallowed back bile. My senses turned inward and magnified the sound of pounding.

  This wasn’t from a memory, this was from an onset of stress brought about by a helpless situation. The law wouldn’t apply to only me. It would affect Roy, Leo, the girls, and most of Bottom Pit’s staff. Technically, we were all required to be killed.

  “So it’s true,” she said while staring at me. Her eyes moved back and forth looking at my body language.

  I didn’t answer her and tried to figure out a way through things, one not ending in an unfair sentence. Daniel might have ideas. He was smart. Roy was disciplined. I’d grown up with them on either side of me. What did I have?

  “I’ve done a bit of research along this line before, for a thesis paper when I was still in law school. The original Accord was written two thousand years ago, but it’s been amended a few times since then.”

  Part of me wanted to leap at her and shake until answers poured forth. The other part of me realized there was a giant metal table, chains, and Ms. Sauter was only a vaguely polite wolf who had chased off her former husband with teeth.

  I swallowed and made eye contact.

  “The actual letter of the law still basically says the same thing, but in theory all we’d need to do in order to have legal grounds to file under, would be getting recognition for any”—she looked around and pulled back the tablet again—“race that may not already be listed.”

  “So?” I couldn’t follow the logic. “What does that mean?”

  “Enough of the public would need to recognize an alternate species, preferably in a way that doesn’t unleash a mass outcry.”

  “Has anyone tried?” I asked.

  Ms. Sauter licked her lips nervously. “There’s nothing publicly documented,” she responded.

  Of course there were no records. Western Sector’s finest probably squelched it all. I muttered, “Everything for the peace.”

  “What?”

  I shook my head. Ms. Sauter probably wasn’t in on that particular conspiracy. People like Daniel, his father, and many others had been removing evidence. They continued The Purge in secret, nearly two thousand years after it started.

  “Care to explain, Mr. Fields?” she asked.

  “No.”

  The real concern was revealing what I was, without trouble. Muni had to be working with Western Sector in order to remain untouched. Daniel’s fiancée mentioned licenses back at Julianne’s bar. A single comment from almost half a year ago stuck with me.

  “Well. I’ll keep working on the motions and paperwork. If nothing else it’s a fun project to fill the nights.” A flicker of muscle twitches passed through her face as she packed up everything. The sentence bothered her but pursuing it would be rude.

  “Maybe Roy can help.”

  She stared at me.

  “Or not. Whatever you can do is fine.”

  She shook her head. “I can do a lot. I’ll file as your legal counsel, dismiss what’s easy to argue. Give me a month, I’ll have something. From there it’ll depend on what you want.”

  As if I had a clue. I went with the easy answer, “All right.”

  “Try to behave.”

  I said nothing as she left the room. Moments later the guards came to get me.

  Thoughts occupied most of my consciousness. Sorting through harsh moments in memory where Daniel and I had talked about this very subject. Or more recently, Roy’s words to his father months ago had alluded to the same solution. They’d talked about it in the car when I’d been lost under Muni’s second charm.

  We could go public. The old man had been against it. Roy, on the other hand, seemed eager. Could Ms. Sauter help on that front? No. No one could. Not really. It was only a matter of time before the wrong person figured out what I wasn’t.

  Then I’d be killed. This ongoing ordeal would have accomplished truly nothing. It wasn’t even my own death that bothered me. Not really.

  The waitresses at Bottom Pit, Roy, Leo, the twins and all the tribe members were at risk. Ted and Barnie might be smart enough to run. Barnie would try to get out but use too many explosives in the process. Western Sector agents would slit his throat while he slept.

  There were dozens of people I’d worked hard to bring together. Some arrived on their own, like Rachel. We weren’t all perfect friends, but we were alike in our outsiderness. Going public would mean every single relationship got scrutinized.

  Roy had visited me here in a Western Sector owned prison. His son had tried to rescue me out from under federal custody. And the laws of those races that had survived threatened all of it. The whole line of thinking made me angry and worried in one go. Would could I do?

  Burn them all.

  I shook off the angry suggestion of my baser nature. My other mind, part of me since childhood, gave a worse alternative for all of us. Still, the idea had merit. I could kill those who put me and mine in danger and simply continue until everyone gave up or I lost.

  Burn them until the threat has been ended.

  No. Hell. That would just make it worse. I was a rational, functioning person. I earned an income, legitimate or not. For now I was technically law abiding by staying in the prison. The majority of me knew, with years of restraint beat into me by Tal, violence couldn’t solve everything. But that voice didn’t care.

  I ignored inmates and crossed the bottom floor toward the stairs. Someone shouted at me. Part of my consciousness picked it up. The rest was lost in a muddle of self-searching. There had to be a route through my problems that wouldn’t put my family in harm’s way.

  I’d made deals, held promises, and scrambled my own memory in a bid for time. Punching everything in existence wasn’t an option. Kahina had been threatened by a simple picture showing how easily someone could end her life. What would I do if someone threatened the others?

  I couldn’t protect everyone. Saving one woman had nearly killed me multiple times.

>   My fists clenched in response to the thoughts flowing through me. More shouts came from behind me. People moved out of the way in a wave, but didn’t actually look in my direction. I felt footsteps shift behind me. Fabric brushed against more woolen threads. Something sharp and weighted bobbed to the rear.

  Air vibrated from a sudden thrusting motion. Instinct kicked in and I swayed to the side. A hand grabbed my dipping shoulder and pushed me off balance and my heartbeat stuttered.

  “Fucking mutt!” A familiar male voice. “Keep him down!”

  Feet come in. I curl. Kick. Hit inside of Pink Meat’s knee. Pink Meat grunts. Above. Fingers curl around metal stock. Jailers ready weapons to fire.

  More feet came in and kicked. People rushed. A swirl of sensations flooded into my head and the general population shifted. I didn’t see a glint, but felt it stab forward again.

  Grab one Pink Meat. Pull leg into path of blade. Sinks deep. Hear weakling scream. Smile. Above two jailers level guns. Their voices shout.

  I swung my legs, got them under me, shifted my weight and threw one man into another. My foot shot backward and caught another in the gut. I reached out to grab a third assailant, hurling the human up to the guard’s nest which disturbed their line of sight.

  The thought registered that they’d been about to shoot in my direction. I felt briefly amazed my natural reaction included keeping tabs on the men with guns.

  My human missile screamed, “Don’t shoot!” and clenched his eyes shut. I felt it all, and Western Sector’s finest didn’t hesitate. One person smoothly moved to throw cuffs on the man.

  I needed space. Everyone looked the same in their jumpsuits. They had the same skin and colors. Anyone too close got a fist to the face, side, whatever was available. I twisted, moving better than expected. My eyes and senses absorbed faces and intentions in chunks. Some backed up, others hovered to the side, blocking exits so I couldn’t escape.

  “Die, mutt!” Spike, who’d been in the crowd, yelled. He swung a glinting object at me.

  I swept my arm through quickly and knocked away the metal. Guards shouted. Another man flew at them, knocking down one of the Caretakers.