Inescapable : The Hexborn Series Book 2

by Cara E Holt

  Captain De Meath portals into the woods and his eyes fall on Drayce who is now being restrained by three of the guards.

  “Elara Latimer, I charge you with breaching the supernatural accords as a hybrid creature. You will be taken from here directly to the chamber prison, where you will face trial.”

  “No,” Drayce shouts as he wrestles with the guards who are struggling to contain him. “Let her go, or I swear I’ll kill all of you.” He means every word too, but unfortunately his threats are empty. We are outnumbered and had no way of escaping.

  “Cuff him.” Captain De Meath orders. The guard with the tattoo on his neck grins as he places iron cuffs on Drayce’s wrists. “Drayce Black I charge you with aiding and abetting a known hybrid. You will also be taken to the chamber prison to face trial.”

  “He didn’t know,” I yell, desperate to get him out of this situation. “Let him go, he has no idea.”

  Captain De Meath almost gives me a sad look. “We know everything Elara. It’s time to stop running.”

  My shoulders sag as I sink to my knees in the dirt. There is nowhere to run. My secret was out.

  “Cuff her,” he orders and two guards step through the flames and secure my hands behind my back.

  They portal us back to the front of the school, where a crowd has gathered to see why the guards are here. I feel their stares as they take in both Drayce and I in cuffs. Everyone looks on open-mouthed at what is unfolding before their eyes.

  “Drayce,” Thorin shouts, trying to push through the crowds, but before he can get closer a guard steps out and puts a hand to his chest, stopping him from going any further.

  Two seconds later I see Rafe appear at the steps into the academy. He looks at Drayce and then me and swearing under his breath; he kicks at a potted plant, sending it tumbling over and breaking into pieces. Out of all the faces in the crowd, I find Sereia’s. She looks at me with a satisfied grin on her face.

  “We’ll transport them separately,” De Meath orders his men and they haul Drayce towards a waiting vehicle and pull me towards the one behind.

  “No,” Drayce protests, digging his heels in the gravel. “You can’t do this. My father-”

  “Your father can do nothing. The law is the law.” Captain De Meath looks to be losing his patience. His jaw ticks. “Get him in and spell his mouth.”

  Drayce’s eyes meet mine as they force his head down and place him inside the vehicle and in the days to come I would wonder if that was to be my last glimpse of him. As we pull away, I look back out of the rear window and my eyes find our friends. Meara, Thorin and Rafe all stand together, with equal looks of helplessness, watching as they take us away from the academy to face our destiny.

  We arrive a brief time later and I am hauled out of the car and taken through processing. All my jewellery, including my engagement ring, are taken from me, as are my shoes and my hair tie. I’m photographed and injected with something in the back of my neck that stings like a bitch.

  I have never set foot inside a prison before, but it was as gloomy as I had imagined. Set deep underground, underneath the council chambers, the prison runs in a circular shape. As we move further down in the lift, I see level after level of prison cells, all housing inmates. We eventually come to a stop and I am hauled out onto level twenty. I am dragged forward until we stop at a cell numbered 340. The guard places his hand at the lock and the door spells open and I am roughly pushed inside. They pull the door behind me shut. The metal moans and groans as I hear lock after lock click into place. Rushing to the cell door, I look out and watch as they walk away, leaving me behind. I rattle the door, testing it.

  “You can rattle that all you like. It won’t open.”

  Jumping at the sound of another voice, I turn and find a girl sitting on a bed with her back leant against the cell wall. She looks to be in her early twenties with a head of pale pink afro curls. She has bright brown eyes and a tattoo of a rose on her neck.

  She nods her head in greeting. “I’m Amila Toothaker. Welcome to paradise.” She gestures at the bland and cold looking cell around us. “That’s your bed over there.” She points at the old and grubby looking metal bed with a thin dirty mattress. “Good luck trying to get any sleep on it.”

  I slump against the prison bars as I take in my situation, feeling desolate. No one would be able to get me out of this.

  “Do you have a name?” Amila asks with me. I nod in a daze, trying to find my voice. “Am I meant to guess it?”

  “Elara.”

  Amila smiles, sitting up, she salutes me. “Good to meet you cell mate.” She crosses her legs underneath her and I notice another rose tattoo on her lower leg. “So what pray did you do to end up in this god-forsaken place?”

  “I existed,” I reply. That in a nutshell was my crime. “I’m a hybrid.”

  Amila sits up even straighter, suddenly looking more interested. “Well, well, same here.” She pats her chest. “I’m witch and fae.” She tilts her head to the side, scrutinising me. “Let me guess, witch and shifter?”

  “Vampire,” I reply, flashing my fangs at her, which I can now easily drop at my will.

  Amila nods. “Well, my little witch-vamp, first lesson to learn. We are the lowest of the low down here. Learn to keep your eyes down and blend into the background and you might live to face trial. Unless they have paid the guards to finish you off down here?”

  I stare at her speechless, still processing how I ended up here. “How long have you been here?”

  Amila smiles, “Ah, she speaks!” She pats her bed. “Come sit. I’ll tell you my story if you’ll tell me yours.”

  Nodding my head, I walk over and take a hesitant seat beside her. The metal groans in protests and I worry if it can take both our weight.

  “I’ve been here a month. They charged me with murdering an elderly witch, robbing her home and murdering her.” She scoffs, “Fucking guards.”

  “Did you?” I ask, unsure if I want to hear the answer.

  Amila looks at me, horrified. “Mother Goddess, no, I did not.” She sighs and picks at the hole in her prison trousers. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not that they care, as long as they can pin it on a hybrid. They don’t care if I am guilty or not.”

  “But you can argue your case at your trial. Do you have an alibi?”

  Amila tips her head back and full on laughs. “Oh girl, you make me laugh. You think we get a fair trial here? That we get to present our defence?” She sniggers and shakes her head. “They will sentence me to death, make no bones about it.”

  I frown. “But surely you have a right to a fair trial?”

  Amila leans closer and stares into my eyes. “There is no such thing as a fair trial for the likes of us. We’ll both die in here. This is it, my little vampire-witch, it’s the end of the road.”

  I feel a tear drop from my eye and roll down my cheek.

  Giving me a soft smile, she leans forward and wipes it away. “Don’t cry beautiful. Don’t let them have the satisfaction of your tears.”

  My first night here I struggle to sleep, the place is noisy at night. From down in the lower depths of the prison I hear howling and persistent banging. With that and my mind whirling with a thousand thoughts, sleep would be elusive for some time.

  My thoughts keep drifting to Drayce. Was he somewhere in here too? Or has his father’s influence been enough to get him released? I have to hope he wasn’t in here, because if he was, it was because of me. Drayce Black would have done well to stay well away from me because I seem to bring nothing but pain and trouble to those around me.

  My chaotic mind must have eventually stilled long enough for me to fall asleep because I am awoken by an awful high pitch whirring sound.

  “I hate that fucking alarm,” Amila groans, lifting her pillow and putting it over the top of her head to silence the noise.

  “What’s the alarm for?” I ask her. I sit up in my bed and stretch my arms over my head.

  “That delig
htful noise is to inform you it is morning.” Lifting her head from below her pillow, she gestures at the dark cell they hold us captive in. “No natural daylight here to tell you when the sun has risen.”

  My tummy rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten for some time. I will need blood soon, which could be a problem. “Please tell me they feed us in here.”

  Amila grimaces, “If you can call it food. They place it under the bottom of the cell door on a tray.”

  My face must show my disappointment. “You mean we don’t get to leave our cells to eat?”

  Amila smiles and shakes her head, likes she is dealing with a naïve child. “We get an hour a day in the circle to stretch our legs, other than that we are stuck in here my friend.” Amila sighs and lies back down on her bed. “At least you will be better company than my last cell mate. She hardly spoke. I got sick of the sound of my own voice.”

  “What happened to her?” I ask, not sure I really want to know the answer.

  Amila glances sideways at me before she replies. “They stripped her of her powers and released into the service of a council family.”

  I sit sideways on my bed and tuck my legs under me. The old bed groans with every slight move I make.

  Amila counts silently on her fingers. “Today is my twenty seventh day. Apparently all hybrid trials will be delayed. Something about the high councillor’s daughter being abducted, meaning he is too busy to deal with the likes of us.”

  “Have you heard of the HDS? Do you believe they exist?” I ask her.

  Amila shrugs, continuing to look up at the grey and peeling ceiling above us. “Word on the street is they are real, but if they are, then they need to do more and make a stand for their people. Either way, it is too late for you and me.” She sighs looking deep in thought, “It’s funny you know, I always saw myself living to a ripe old age, you know, that cheesy image of me one day with my grandkids sat around me as I told them the stories of my past. I never thought it would end here at twenty-three.”

  I reach over the gap between our beds and touch her arm. “We can’t give up hope,” I tell her.

  Amila offers me a sad smile. “There will not be any knight in shining armour breaking in here to save us Elara. It is what it is. I’ve accepted my fate.”

  I look down at my bare finger and rub across where my engagement ring had been. “I’m engaged to a really hot and obnoxious male witch. They arrested him with me and I have no clue if he is in here somewhere or not.”

  Amila looks surprised by my news and sits up, suddenly more interested in our conversation. “Hot and obnoxious, huh? Describe him, what makes him hot?”

  I sigh. “Everything about him makes him hot. He has a body chiselled by the gods, with not an ounce of fat on him. He has these pale blue eyes that pull you in and he’s always smirking. I can never decide whether I want to wrestle him to the ground and punch him or launch myself at him and rip his clothes off.” I roll my eyes. “He is so god-damn infuriating sometimes, he is arrogant, and he loves himself, but he is also protective and loyal. He makes my toes curl and my mind lose its train of thought whenever he kisses me.”

  Amila looks at me wide-eyed. “Wow, you are in love, aren’t you?”

  I laugh and shrug off her comment. “I wouldn’t call it love, maybe lust,” I protest.

  Amila scoffs and shakes her head at me, her tight curly pink hair bouncing as she does. “Your face lights up when you talk about him. Honestly. You should see yourself, it’s sickeningly sweet. You are without doubt in love with your hot and obnoxious fiancé.”

  I sigh and rest my chin on my hands. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not. I won’t be marrying him anytime soon now.” I laugh at the irony of my situation. “Besides, I already have a death sentence. I am never meant to live beyond my twenty-first birthday. It looks like I’ll be going a few years earlier than planned though.”

  Amila looks at me blankly. She is likely wondering what I am rattling on about.

  “I’m cursed born. I’m a Bennett witch. All Bennett females die before they reach twenty-one.”

  Amila’s eyes widen in shock. “Get out of here! I have heard about that story. The witch who fell in love with the vamp and the scorned fiancé.”

  I nod. “Yep, that’s the one.”

  I share my entire story with Amila and she listens avidly, leaning in and hurrying me along when I start to drift on to other areas of my life. When I have finished, she sits there with her mouth open in silence.

  “Say something,” I urge her.

  She closes her mouth and rests her fingers on the side of her temples. “You need to journal. I mean seriously, they could make your story into a book or a movie one day. I can see it now ‘The Cursed Born’ in bright lights.” She gestures flashing lights with her hands.

  “A Wiccan tragedy,” I joke and we both laugh.

  The sound of footsteps pounding against the concrete floor interrupt us. A guard appears at our cell and shoves two trays under the bottom bars and with a grunt moves onto the next cell.

  I attempt to magic our trays over to us and frown when I find nothing happens.

  Amila rolls her eyes at me. She stands and picks up my tray and brings it to me, before settling down with her own. She points to her neck. “That injection they gave you, it implants a chip in your neck. The chip is not only a tracker, but it also blocks your magic.” She gestures at the walls of the cell. “They also spell the cells to block the use of magic. In here we are like mere mortals, powerless.”

  A NEW NORMAL

  By day three I am climbing the walls with boredom. Don’t get me wrong, Amila is brilliant company and we talk for hours about our families, politics and even our favourite supernatural boy bands. The hour a day we get in the circle is the only thing I have to look forward to and even that is an anxious experience. There are some mean and twisted fuckers in here. One wrong look and they’d be on you trying to strangle you or snap your neck.

  It has been three days with no blood, and I was looking a little worse for wear. Okay, that was an understatement. I looked terrible. I had deep grey bags under my eyes and my cheeks were looking gaunt and hollow. My fangs were painful and sore and my stomach growled constantly with hunger pains.

  Amila pulls me from my pity party one long afternoon in our cell when she flings her wrist in front of my face. “Drink.”

  I look up at her and shake my head.

  “No, I don’t want to hear that, I have only ever drunk from Drayce, blah, blah. You look shocking Elara. You look like my dead grandma when we visited her in the undertakers. The grey skin isn’t a good look on you.”

  She puts her wrist right up against my mouth and I find myself unable to resist and I sink my fangs into her vein. I groan when I get that first taste of her blood. I was so hungry. She tasted different to Drayce, more like sweets or bubble-gum. I had resisted her previous offers as it felt wrong somehow drinking blood from someone other than Drayce, but I had no choice, it was clear the guards weren’t going to bother bringing me blood.

  The shrill sound of the alarm tells me it is morning and day four of my time here in the council prison. For four full days I hadn’t seen daylight, and I missed it. I missed breathing fresh air into my lungs and feeling the sun on my face. Amila releases a torrent of abuse at the alarm and covers her ears with her hands.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” I admit quietly. “If they are going to condemn me to death, I’d rather they just got on with it.”

  Amila sniggers. “But where’s the fun in that? They like to think of us down here, waiting and wondering when our last day will be. They like the power and control it gives them.”

  I had never been a very patient person. Once I make a decision, I act upon it, immediately. Even waiting for my death I was the same. If they were going to execute me, then they needed to get on with it.

  The sound of the locks to our cell opening makes me sit up straight in bed. Maybe my wishes were about to be gr
anted. A guard gestures to Amila.

  “Come on, you’re taking your walk early today,” he tells her.

  Amila frowns in confusion and looks at me with a wary look in her eyes. “Is she coming too?”

  The guard looks at me and shakes his head. “She has a visitor.”

  He ushers Amila out of the cell and if I wasn’t already sitting down, I would have likely fallen down because I do not expect to see the person who walks into my cell.

  “Hello Elara.”

  Astrea Black stands before me, dressed in all her finery, a pale cream suit and black heels. She looks around the cell with a disgusted look on her face and shudders. “I have never been in a prison cell before.”

  “Me either,” I reply. “Why are you here?”

  Astrea clears her throat and looks at me, like I am the filth on the bottom of her shoe. “I wanted to see you one last time, to thank you for almost ruining my family’s flawless reputation. For centuries we have avoided any kind of scandal and then against my words of caution my husband agrees to your engagement to our son.” She shakes her head. “I knew in my bones there was something not right about you, that you would bring trouble to my family.” She scoffs, “Can you imagine the shame we are enduring. It is all over the press.” She makes air quotes, “The esteemed councillor Black’s shame as he finds out his son is engaged to a dangerous hybrid.”

  I extend my fangs and glare at her, and she flinches in fear.

  “You should fear me,” I warn her. I stand to my feet and straighten my shoulders. “I could tear through your throat in seconds. After all, isn’t that what monsters do? And you do think I am a monster, don’t you?” I step towards her and I see her take a cautious step back towards the cell door. “If I’m such a monster then why have I never ripped your son’s throat out?”

  She curls up her lip in disgust. “You fed from my son?”