“Hmm?”
“Do you really think you’re about to be executed?”
I sat up straight at the sound of her voice, so small and scared and unlike the brash, confident girl I knew. She was clutching the bars, staring at me with wide eyes, and I reached out, wanting to touch her hands and reassure her. But before I could, the door at the end of the hall opened, and a guard marched down the hall with Noria’s mother in tow.
I sighed, slumping back against the mattress again. So much for companionship. I silently endured the expected death glare from Noria’s mother as she collected her daughter, then gingerly lay back on my rock-hard cot. It was wrong, but I missed having Noria in the cell next to me. It was comforting to have a comrade in here to distract me from my fear, especially since I knew that when I next emerged from this cell, I would be walking to my death.
Without Noria to distract me, my aches and pains made themselves known, increasing from a dull ache to sharp, throbbing pains in the bones of my face and my ribcage. Dread pooled in my stomach as I realized that my injuries were more severe than I’d thought. I was going to have to shift to heal them.
Normally, shifting was no problem for me. Because I was half-mage and had more natural magic at my disposal than a regular shifter, I could change forms faster and more frequently. But I’d just used a boatload of magic disintegrating that rhino shifter, and I’d already been short on sleep and food then. I was past the point of exhaustion now.
Is there even any point in healing myself? I thought despondently, my eyes tracing the cracks in the concrete ceiling. If I’m going to be executed tomorrow?
Of course there is, a voice in my head argued fiercely. You’re the only one who gives a fuck about solving the silver murders. You can’t just give up and die. Don’t allow your fear of what could be to put you into an early grave.
Tears sprang to my eyes at that last line – it was something Roanas told me often, especially when coaxing me into trying a new maneuver early on in my training. He’d taken me in when I was still a cub, after my mother died and my aunt had kicked me out of the clan, and of all the things he’d taught me that phrase stuck with me the most. It was his way of saying not to give in to my fear of the unknown – just because something could go wrong didn’t mean that it would, and if you didn’t try at all you’d never reap the rewards.
Magorah, what was I supposed to do now that he was gone?
The door at the end of the hall opened and footsteps rang across the concrete. I sat up, swiping the tears from my face in case I had a visitor. Sure enough, a hulking thug of a human with a bulbous nose and a shock of red hair dressed in leathers stopped in front of my cell. His wide mouth stretched in a grin, displaying the gold tooth that winked where one of his canines should have been.
Oh lucky me. It’s my favorite person in the world.
“Deputy Talcon,” I said coolly, sitting up straight. The pain in my ribs flared, but I ignored it, unwilling to show him any sign of weakness.
“Sunaya.” He dragged the last syllable out, then made tsking sounds as he wagged a meaty finger at me. He was built like a troll, nearly as wide as he was tall, the bulging muscles of his arms displayed by the sleeveless black shirt he wore. “I heard you were cooped up down here, so I thought I’d come down and see how my favorite Enforcer was doing.” He raised a long, paper-wrapped package clutched in his fist. “Want a sandwich?”
I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but my stomach growled so loudly in response to the food that he laughed before chucking the sandwich through the iron bars of the cell. It landed in my lap, and I fell on it greedily, the shame in my gut unable to trump the gnawing hunger in there.
“Good little panther,” he cooed as I ripped open the wrapper and inhaled the sandwich. My nose told me it was safe, a simple if unimaginative combination of turkey and cheese, so I wasted no time in chowing it down. I had to swallow my pride if I wanted to have my strength for tomorrow.
“Got any water to go with that?” I asked nonchalantly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
His eyes narrowed at my blasé response to his goading. “You always were an ungrateful little bitch,” he said darkly, his lower lip curling.
“Sure, and you always were a disgusting, fat fuck.”
His eyes bulged, and he lunged toward me before he remembered that there was a row of iron bars separating us. I watched with satisfaction as he stood there, taking in deep breaths through his flaring nostrils, a vein pulsing in his temple. Good. The bastard deserved to stew a little, especially after all he’d put me through.
“So,” I said, folding my arms across my aching ribs. “What brings you down from your cushy office upstairs? Got tired of jerking off to my ID photo?” I’d been down here enough times to know I was in the holding cells in the basement of the Enforcer’s Guild. Shame burned the lining of my stomach as it occurred to me that my peers had likely all watched Brin and Nila haul my unconscious ass down here, but I forced myself to push it aside. There were more important things to worry about than my bruised pride.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” His lips stretched into a cruel smirk as he regarded me with his beady eyes. “It’s been awhile since you last came in, so when I heard you were in the building I decided to come and see that pretty face of yours in person again.” His eyes gleamed with lust, and a small shiver crawled down my spine. “So much better than a picture.”
“You know,” I drawled, doing my best to cover up the disgust coating my throat, “if you pull out your dick here and try to shoot a load at me now, you might actually be able to hit me since I don’t have an amulet to incinerate you with anymore. Why don’t you try it and see what happens?” I bared my fangs, daring him – if he whipped out his dick now I had a real shot of reaching through the bars and ripping it to shreds with my claws before he could react. After all, it wasn’t like I had anything to lose now, and I partially blamed him for the situation I was in.
Talcon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve got a real smart mouth for someone who’s facing execution, hybrid.” I flinched as he spat the word, the contempt in his voice so much like my aunt Mafiela’s that my heart shriveled inside my chest. “Don’t pretend that little trinket is what saved your ass today. We both know what really happened, and you’re going down.”
I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see the fear churning inside my gut. “I look forward to seeing the look on your face when the mages test the amulet and are forced to vindicate me.” Not that that was going to happen, of course – in fact, I sincerely hoped the Mage’s Guild decided not to test the amulet when I spun my bogus story for them tomorrow, because if they did I was most definitely toast.
Uncertainty flickered across Talcon’s face for just a moment, and then he scoffed. “Yeah, right. You were always good at bluffing. But you know,” he said, a sly smile curving his lips. “I could help you escape in exchange for a little something-something.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What, you want your sandwich back? I don’t think it’s any good to you at this point, but I’m sure I can figure something out.” I stuck a finger in the back of my throat and pretended to gag.
“Oh, don’t bother with that.” Talcon’s sausage fingers reached for his fly. “I’ve got something much better for you to choke on.”
“Fuck you.” I instinctively reached for the chakram pouch strapped to my thigh, but there was nothing there but my leather-clad leg. Dammit. Was I ever going to get my weapons back?
“I’m not sucking you off for my freedom, Talcon. You probably couldn’t give it to me anyway.”
“You never know,” he purred, wiggling the zipper on his pants.
I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t make me bite that thing off.”
His expression turned downright ugly. “Fine,” he said, baring his teeth. “I was just giving you the opportunity to enjoy a last moment of pleasure before your death.”
“Couldn’t you drag your mind out of the garbage fo
r once and do some actual work?” I threw up my hands, tired of this bullshit. Why the fuck did the Enforcer’s Guild give the deputy position to such a total ass? Just because he came from an old human family with money didn’t mean he deserved the job. “Instead of standing around here holding your dick, you could be out there solving those silver murders and getting some real recognition for a job well done.”
Something flickered in his eyes, and for a moment I thought I’d actually dented his pride. But the look disappeared as quickly as I’d seen it, and he shrugged, a patronizing smile on his thuggish face.
“I never figured you for one to believe in conspiracy theories, Sunaya. Guess it’s a good thing you’re finally getting put down, or I’d have to fire you myself. I look forward to seeing you at your hearing tomorrow, hybrid.”
Fury raced through me like wildfire, but I snapped my mouth shut as Talcon turned and walked back down the hall, wanting him gone more than I wanted to fight. The relief that coursed through me as I listened to his receding footsteps was quickly eclipsed by despair as I slumped back down onto my cot. What the fuck was I supposed to do now? Sit here and wait to die? I’d always imagined being taken out while I was on the job, protecting an innocent or bringing down a criminal. Death by execution, for something I was born with and couldn’t control, had never been part of the plan.
Before I allowed the bitterness coating my tongue to spread throughout the rest of me and sap my strength, I pulled off my clothes and used the bit of energy I’d gotten from Talcon’s sandwich to shift. A hot white light engulfed my body as it stretched and changed shape, and when it faded away I’d transformed from a tall, lean woman into a black panther. Only my bottle-green eyes remained constant, regardless of what shape I was in. I always figured the mages who created us did that on purpose, so shifters would be easily identifiable.
My claws scraped against the ground as I stretched, my sleek form rippling, and I let out a satisfied sigh as the last of my injuries knit themselves back together. Now that I was in beast form and the pain of my injuries had gone, some of the despair and anxiety began to lift from my heart. Curling up on the cold concrete, I rested my chin on top of my paws and allowed sleep to finally take hold of me. Once I got some rest I would focus my mind on getting out of this mess alive. After all, I was twenty-four and had my whole life ahead of me. Not to mention a series of murders to solve.
“Sunaya Baine?”
The sound of an unfamiliar male voice woke me from a fitful sleep. I cracked an eye open to see a man standing above me, his slim form draped in a long, khaki coat. Though it was dark in the jail at this time of night, my sharp eyes were able to pick out the porkpie hat clutched in his left hand, his slicked-back dirty blond hair, and his horn-rimmed glasses, the last of which sparked a memory.
You’re a reporter, I wanted to say, but then I remembered that I was in my panther form. Yawning, I stretched, my claws producing a scraping sound as they gouged into the concrete floor. The human took a nervous step back, clearly not a fan of my sharp implements. To amuse myself, I rose up on my hind legs, hooking my paws through the bars of my cell as I met his gaze. His eyes widened as his back clanged into the cell bars behind him.
“Y-you are Sunaya Baine, aren’t you?”
Satisfied at the tremor in the man’s voice – I never was much of a fan of reporters – I nosed my clothes into the shadowy portion of my cell and changed back into human form. His sigh of relief and the scent of fresh sweat rolling from his pores were telling – this man was afraid of shifters in general, not just me.
“I am Sunaya Baine,” I said once I’d pulled my clothes back on and stepped back into the dim light. I leaned against the bars and looped my hands through them lazily, affecting a pose of nonchalance. He eyed my hands warily, as if he expected me to claw him at any second, and I found myself annoyed at his skittishness. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes,” he said, drawing his air of professionalism back around him. He pulled out a notepad and a pen from one of the pockets of his greatcoat and looked up at me with a polite smile over his glasses, his pen poised. “My name is Hanley Fintz, and I’m a journalist for the Herald. I heard about your unfortunate predicament, and would like to interview you.”
I arched a brow. “Bit late for interviews, don’t you think?” Not that I knew what time it was, since Brin and Nila had stripped my body of anything actually useful, such as my watch. The fuckers had even taken my Enforcer bracelet, the symbol of authority I’d worked so hard to earn. But judging by the fact that the lights down here were still dimmed, it must be night above ground.
The reporter shrugged. “From what my sources tell me, your hearing is set for early this morning. Since they’re likely to rule against you, I have to take what opportunities I can get to talk with you before it’s too late.”
In other words, this schmuck had bribed one of the guards upstairs to let him into the jail cell so he could interview me. Did absolutely no one understand the meaning of ‘work ethic’ anymore? Pressing my lips together, I eyed the reporter distastefully, not sure that he didn’t deserve a beating just as much as the guard upstairs, though unlike the guard he was just doing his job.
A long silence stretched. Eventually Fintz cleared his throat. “Come now, surely you can tell me something,” he coaxed. “I would like to paint you in the most positive light possible, which is not very hard. If you have to die, at least you can die a martyr in the fight against the oppressive mages who rule us.”
His voice was low and urgent, infused with passion. But the hungry way he eyed me seemed less sincere. Releasing the bars, I took a step back, holding my hands up defensively.
“Look,” I told him. “If you want to paint me as a martyr or a hero or whatever after I’m six feet under, that’s your business. But I’m not dead yet, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me like some vulture waiting for me to gasp my last breath, so you can swoop down and start feasting on me.”
The man recoiled a little, his pointy nose twitching. “Well that’s vulgar.”
“Yeah, well you know what else is vulgar?” I leaned against the bars again to pin him with an accusing stare. “The fact that nobody in this town seems to give a damn about all the shifters who are dying of silver poisoning. If you really wanted a juicy story, you’d be investigating that, starting with my mentor’s murder, not trying to prod me for bullshit quotes about standing up to the system.”
“I would love nothing more than to investigate these poisonings you speak of,” Hanley said sulkily. “But unfortunately, Mr. Yantz decides who and what I investigate and what stories are printed, and he is simply not interested in publishing that story.”
“Of course not.” I bared my fangs in disgust. Petros Yantz, the CEO and Chief Editor of the Herald, had turned the once-prestigious paper into little more than a glorified gossip rag. He was one of the primary reasons I detested reporters. “Why don’t you go and tell your boss to fuck off for me, before I find a reason to break out of this cell and come harass him in the middle of the night.”
“I see.” His eyes glittered as he returned his pad and pen to his pocket. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I suppose I’ll just have to contact your family for quotes instead. Do have a good night.” He placed his hat on his head, then turned and walked away.
I snorted at his parting shot, lying back down on my cot. It was doubtful he would get anything more interesting than a ‘Good Riddance!’ from my aunt Mafiela if he asked her how she felt about my death, and though some of my cousins might have nicer things to say about me, I doubted she would let them speak to the press.
Closing my eyes, I tried to take advantage of whatever time I had left before my hearing to get some sleep. But now that I’d been awakened, my mind kept buzzing with all the thoughts jockeying for position inside my head. The predominant fear, of course, was how the hell to ensure Roanas got avenged and the silver murders got solved. Even if I did manage to avoid execution, w
hich was very unlikely, I would face a long sentence, most likely of hard labor in the mines. Plus I would be stripped of my magic, and at my age that would reduce my mind into a puddle of mush. No matter how the judge decided to punish me, I would have zero opportunity to conduct an investigation myself.
Of course, I could always ask Comenius and Noria to look into it for me... except I didn’t want to risk their lives on this. Comenius had a daughter abroad who he helped support with the money he earned from his shop, and Noria was simply too young to be involved in all this. Even if neither of them were susceptible to silver poisoning, that didn’t mean the killer wouldn’t try to take them out if he – or she – discovered they were hot on his trail.
I guess there’s always Rylan, I thought bitterly, twirling an inky curl of hair around my index finger as I stared up at the ceiling. My cousin would be more than happy to look into the murders, if only so he could point the blame back at the Mage’s Guild and gain one more nail to hammer into the coffin he was trying to create for them. But there was no way for me to get a message to him – mindspeech could only take you so far, and frankly it had been a miracle that Roanas had reached me at all. It was intended to be used in close proximity between shifters while we were in animal form, not as a mental telephone system.
You could probably send him a message if you used your magic.
The thought was almost as intriguing as it was frustrating. If the flashy display of power that landed me in this cell was any indication, I could probably do a whole lot with my magic if I could just figure out how to access it on demand, instead of in a panic. Closing my eyes, I tried to feel for the telltale spark that always lit inside me before an outburst, but there was only a void where it should have been.
My hands clenched into fists as helpless rage overtook me. I wanted to break something, or smash my fists into something satisfying, but I would only break my hands against the concrete walls and then I would have to expend even more energy healing myself. It was so unfair that the mages in this town got to use their magic to elevate themselves above us, while mine only served to drag me down and get me in trouble. The only time it was ever useful was when I was in mortal danger.
Burned by Magic: a New Adult Fantasy Novel (The Baine Chronicles Book 1) Page 4
