“I died with her.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
They remained silent for a moment, then Lupo said, “Where do you camp?”
“Second floor, with the murderers and kidnappers.”
“Tough crowd.”
“Let’s say I’ve mastered the art of evasion and striking, and I don’t sleep a lot nowadays. Where’re you at?”
“The dungeon.”
“That’s harsh.”
“I was sent there because my parents asked that I be protected, and only in the dungeon do inmates have single cells.”
“Only the worst of the worst are bunked in the dungeon.”
“I know.” Lupo couldn’t help but laugh. “My neighbors would give serial killers nightmares.”
“I think the warden played a trick on your parents.”
“I think so too.”
“How long is your sentence?”
“One year, but I’m halfway through it already. What about you?”
“I just got in. Three years to go.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing you and I can do about. But I’m looking forward to seeing my sister and my boyfriend later today.”
The soccer game was cut short by the loud whistle announcing the end of the allotted hour of air, and the guards corralled the inmates toward the entry, lining them up according to their crimes.
“See you soon,” Paride said as he was pushed into his line.
Lupo brought two fingers to his forehead. “Till tomorrow.” He made a mental note to ask about Paride the next time Raphael came to visit.
Later in the afternoon, during their daily visit, he told Quintilius he had met someone his age.
“Paride, you say?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“Is he Angel’s boyfriend?”
“He didn’t say the name, why?”
“Because I think I know of him. Do you know of the Den of Rejects?”
“That renegade shelter you and your friends help from time to time.”
“Yes, I haven’t been there in a few months, but we keep sending food and money to help them out. Angel is the shelter’s leader and one of the good guys. Why is his boyfriend here?”
Lupo told him, and Quintilius frowned.
“That doesn’t sound right. I know Angel, and if his boyfriend is half as good as him, he would never kidnap babies. I’ll ask Peter to look into it.” Quintilius then said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the day you’ll be released.”
Lupo looked at the clock on the wall. “In five months, twenty-eight days, and nine hours, more or less.”
“Right.” Quintilius smiled. “You’ll soon be a free man again, and I want you to work with me. More precisely, I want you to be my right hand.”
“Dad—”
Since the beginning of Lupo’s incarceration, Quintilius had come to visit every day, often accompanied by Ludwig. At first, Lupo feared the alpha would tire as soon as the novelty of having a son wore off, then he realized Quintilius was a man of his word. Now he knew that at five o’ clock in the afternoon his father would be waiting for him in the visitation room. He could count on that as a certainty. During those visits, they had slowly but steadily gotten to know each other. Their communication skills had grown with time, and they had become close. Lately, Quintilius had been sharing more and more about his shipping company, and in a few occasions he asked Lupo’s opinion.
“I’ll teach you everything there is to know.” Quintilius took Lupo’s hand in his.
“It’s a big responsibility.” Lupo was both pleased and scared by the prospect.
“Nothing you can’t do if you apply yourself, son.” Quintilius’s smile was the warmest yet.
Chapter Five
Looking up at the cloudy sky, Lupo let his mind wander. Another day, another hour of fresh air, another game of soccer he wouldn’t join. The clouds ran fast and changed shapes, resembling animals and objects when they separated, only to recompose again a moment later into a thick, billowy, white blanket.
The scent of were-puma reached Lupo’s nostrils, grounding him once again, and he recognized Paride’s smell.
The shifter crossed the crowded courtyard with silent steps and agile moves that brought him before Lupo in a few seconds. “You seem less gloomy today.”
With a nod and what could pass for a smile, Lupo acknowledged Paride. “Puma.”
“Did you receive good news?” Paride’s eyes went to the wall as he raised his chin to point at the world existing beyond the tuff bricks.
“My father wants me to join him in the family business,” Lupo answered, savoring how the statement sounded out loud. He had been thinking about Quintilius’s words since the night before, and during his daily talk with his imaginary Jasmine, he had confessed to her how much he liked the idea.
“Well, that’s great news, I guess.” Paride studied him with his black eyes, a small dimple appearing on his cheek as he tilted his head to the side. “Right?”
“We recently met.”
Paride’s puzzled expression prompted Lupo to say, “My father and I met just before I went to jail.”
“So, you didn’t grow up with your parents?” Paride sat on one of the many broken marble columns that lay on the ground.
To build the nunnery that eventually would become the paranormal penitentiary, the clergy had commissioned the work to a mason who was known to ask a lot less than his competitors. He scavenged material from the Roman Forum to erect the building, but during the Renaissance, nobody cared to preserve Rome’s imperial ruins, and that's why Regina Coeli contained more archeological artifacts than a few civic museums.
When he passed his fingers over the amphora jutting from one of his cell’s walls, Lupo liked to imagine life in ancient Rome, and somehow was grateful to the priest who decided to save coins and gave the job to the cheapest contractor.
“No, I grew up at Cradle and Bites.”
“The orphanage. How come?” Paride asked, adjusting his legs over the column and leaning against the wall.
“My mom left me there, and my father didn’t know I existed.” Lupo mirrored Paride, and lowered himself to the truncated section of an ornate column that belonged to a different period altogether. “What about you?
“My parents were killed by vampires.”
“I’m sorry—”
Paride shrugged. “My father had killed one of the bloodsuckers first. My family belonged to the Puma Aryans, and did everything their high priest ordered without questions. It was only a matter of time before something happened. When it finally did, I took my sister away from all that madness.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen. We lived in the streets for a while.”
“Was it hard?”
“It was terrible, but better than letting the high priest rape my sister.”
Lupo whistled low. “I thought my childhood sucked.”
“It’s okay. We survived, and I’m glad I found the Den of Rejects and Angel.” Paride flicked at the marble grains eroding from the column.
“Angel is your boyfriend, right?”
Paride nodded, then said, “He’s a were-panther.” His stance guarded, his hands stood still, and his black eyes bore into Lupo’s.
“Don’t worry. My non-biological father is an angel. I’m not into that keep-the-race-pure crap.”
“Good for you to be so open-minded.” Paride gave him a smile, then raised his knees up, lowered his chin to them, and hugged his legs.
“My parents are the example that interracial couples work.” Lupo hopped down from the hard seat. “And besides, my fiancé was a were-panther, so…”
“Were you together for long?”
Lupo shook his head. “She was gone before I could ask her what her favorite color was.” The words had escaped his mouth, but he didn’t regret having spoken.
“You must have loved her very much—”
“Why do you say so?”
“Be
cause I can see it in your eyes. You’re talking to me, but your mind is elsewhere.”
“She was everything to me.”
“I understand. If anything happened to Angel, I don’t think I could survive the pain.”
“And yet you do.”
Paride jumped down from the column and stepped closer to Lupo, but didn’t interrupt his silence with platitudes.
“The first few days, I couldn’t breathe. It hurt inside to think of her, but I couldn’t stop. For weeks, my mind went over every single thing I could’ve changed to save her.” If he closed his eyes, he was thrown back into the car he was driving when they flew over the escarpment, and he could still hear Jasmine’s screams.
A loud whistle surprised Lupo. His internal clock was usually accurate, and the allotted sixty minutes of fresh air hadn’t expired yet.
“To the hall,” the elf guard bellowed with his amplified vocal cords. Regina Coeli’s staff members were magically augmented to match the inmates’ strength. Once a year, per Immortal Council’s mandate, the Magik Nation sent warlocks and witches to replenish the guards’ powers.
“What’s happening?” Paride asked, his hands fisting at his side as his nostrils bristled.
“Not sure, but a few months ago, they changed routine once.”
“Why?”
“I guess to destabilize us?” With the corner of his eye, Lupo caught the guard striding their way with his club swinging fast.
“You two, move.” The elf grabbed Paride by his elbow and jerked him forward, while giving Lupo a snarl.
Lupo snarled back, but it wasn’t worth it to challenge the authority any further. In line with the other inmates destined for the dungeon, he nodded at Paride who was ushered toward his group, as they all walked through the courtyard.
Commanded by the harsh tones of the guards, the procession, marked by hundreds of muffled steps and whispers, marched up the stairs. The cafeteria hall, better known as the hall, was on the third floor. Tables and benches lined the perimeter of the room, leaving the center empty for the pouring crowd to fill in. The space was large with high, vaulted ceilings, and mullioned windows that dotted the walls on two sides. Light gray was the predominant color, and accentuated the black wrought iron of the gate at the entrance and the chandeliers hanging from long chains. The design of the chandeliers was severe, yet beautiful, betraying the prison’s origin as a nunnery. A chilly breeze entered from the open windows and set the fixtures in a slow swing.
Despite the nature of his crime was mild, Lupo’s presence in the dungeon associated him with the scum among criminals, and he had never eaten in the cafeteria with the other convicts.
Whenever Ludwig asked him if he was comfortable, Lupo always answered he was fine. He didn’t have the heart to tell the angel his living quarters sucked, when Ludwig had pulled several strings to ensure Lupo was treated well. Plus, on those hazy days after the accident that had killed Jasmine, when he had discovered that his accommodations weren’t as good as expected, Lupo had not cared about how big his cell was or the fact he was isolated from everyone else. He had embraced discomfort as his penance for not having died alongside his mate. The more pain and suffering he experienced, the better.
When the last of the convicts entered the hall, Mr. Lantini stepped in as well. The guards closed the wrought iron gate with metal roses and crosses intertwined in the bars, trapping everyone inside.
A moment later, the warden walked to the front of the room, then addressed the assembly with a raised hand. “Immortal Council representatives are visiting. You’ll wait here until further notice.” Then he walked out of the room through a small door on the left wall that one of the guards promptly locked.
“What the f—” someone behind Lupo exclaimed.
“The Immortal Council sent people to check if Regina Coeli complies with the law,” another inmate answered.
“About time. I’m on speaking terms with a family of rats that dine with me,” a third added.
More voices joined the whispered discussion.
“Last time the council was around, the previous warden was sacked.”
“We were fed rotten food.”
“Things have improved, but the humidity is killing me, and I’m always cold.”
“At least the new warden agreed on three meals per day.”
“And the visitation rights have been restored.”
“Before, I didn’t see my girls for a year—”
Fear grabbing him, Lupo listened to the conversation. Food he could go without, but he couldn’t imagine a day without seeing his father. His conversations with Quintilius were the only reason he hadn’t sought a way out of his misery. Quintilius’s calm voice and warm smile had guided Lupo through the mist surrounding him.
During one of the first visits, Quintilius said, “You are in pain and your heart is broken, but remember that I would suffer the same if you gave up on me.”
His father’s words surprised him, because earlier that day he had contemplated ways to end his life. In his depression, he had spiraled down a hole so big he couldn’t see the light anymore. But Quintilius’s statement had shocked Lupo out of the fog occluding his mind. Even though he had not known Quintilius then and could barely consider him his father, Lupo would have never inflicted that kind of pain on anyone.
Day after day, the large werewolf had helped Lupo consider living instead. Full healing was far from accomplished, but he wasn’t thinking about dying as much as he had in the past. To have his visitation rights removed would be a serious setback, and it made him shiver.
Amidst the whispering, the faintest cry reached Lupo’s ears. He turned to face the back of the room. A human wall hid what was happening, but something was afoot. When intermittent sounds of a scuffle emerged, impassive faces met Lupo’s questioning stare. One of the prison’s unspoken rules was that nobody interfered in someone else’s business. You didn’t see, hear or remember anything. From the depth and isolation of the dungeon it came easy to Lupo to adhere to the mandate, but his wolf was on high alert and he was difficult to ignore.
Then he recognized at least one of the swearing voices as Paride’s, and without thinking he pushed forward, parting the throng.
As he passed through, the crowd compacted again behind him, hiding from the guards his advancement toward the end of the hall. Covered by a final lineup of the tallest shifter inmates, and only visible through the gaps between the bodies, a surreal scene played like a silent movie. Four people were locked in a fight. Their grunts muted, two werewolves punched and kicked Paride, while a third kept him in a stronghold, his big hand covering Paride’s mouth.
The werewolf in front of Lupo gave him a raised eyebrow and pointed his chin toward the rest of the room. “Get lost, cub.”
Without making a sound, Lupo released his wolf in the astral plane. His wolf went for the man’s wolf’s throat, and his canine hovered a hairbreadth from the animal’s jugular. “Yield to me,” Lupo said to the man.
A whimper escaped the big man’s lips, then his shoulders sagged. “As you wish, alpha.”
Having commandeered the attention of several shifters at once, Lupo straightened, and the werewolf he had just attacked turned slightly to open a breach. The man next to the shifter moved as well to let Lupo through. Startled by the commotion, the three men holding Paride halted their assault at once.
Once again, Lupo gave his wolf permission to attack the others’ wolves.
Stop! The wolf paced in a meadow with tall, silvery grass.
The three wolves dropped to the ground, their furry heads between their paws.
“He’s mine,” Lupo said to the one who still caged Paride in his arms.
The werewolf released Paride, then showed his throat in respect. “Our apologies, alpha. We didn’t know this puma was claimed.”
Paride glared at his assailants, then stepped to Lupo’s side.
Grabbing the puma’s wrist, Lupo growled, “Spread the word that I will slaughter th
e next one who touches him.”
“You can have him. We don’t care about the puma,” the shortest of the three men muttered.
Lupo freed Paride and stepped forward until he towered over the werewolf. “Who does then?”
The other two shifters scowled and hissed at their companion, but Lupo lowered his nose to the side of the werewolf’s face and inhaled the man’s scent laced with mounting fear.
“Who ordered you to beat my friend?” he asked, his canines out and scraping at the man’s jaw.
“Don’t say anything,” one of his mates said.
In the astral plane, Lupo’s wolf’s reaction was immediate, he bit down on the speaking man’s wolf without warning, and the shifter collapsed to the floor in a puddle of his urine.
“Rico!” the one in Lupo’s clutches hurried to say. “Rico ordered us to convince the puma he better submit to him.”
With a pat on the man’s cheek, Lupo let him go, then turned to Paride and led him away from the thugs who were all showing throat to Lupo. He stopped before one of the windows and took Paride’s chin in his hand, then moved his head left and right.
“Just a few scratches,” he said, after checking the multitude of bruises and cuts marring his friend’s features. He lowered his hand. “You don’t even need to shift. By the next full moon, you’ll be healed already.”
“Thank you.” Paride tilted his head to the side, a slow grin appearing on his battered face.
“What?”
“You know I’m taken, right?”
“You know if I didn’t claim you, you would be in Rico’s bunk bed already, right?”
“Just checking you weren’t making a pass at me.” The grin on Paride’s face became a full smile.
“I admit you’re good looking, but I’m still in love with my mate.” Lupo had meant his comment to be in kind with Paride’s, but it ended on a serious note instead.
Paride patted his shoulder. “I was kidding.”
“I know. I used to be good company, but not anymore.”
“Thank you, really, for saving my ass.”
“Was it the first time?”
“Fourth in two days. This time they didn’t spare my face. Orders must have changed.”
Lupo (The Immortals Book 8) Page 3
