Hexes & Handcuffs
A limited edition collection of supernatural prison stories
Handcuffs & Hexes © 2020 Margo Bond Collins, Dangerous Words Publishing
All copyrights remain in control of the individual authors over their own works: Copyright © 2020 Maggie Alabaster, Tabitha Barret, Margo Bond Collins, Bokerah Brumley, Quirah Casey, M.M. Chabot, Tiegan Clyne, Emma Cole, May Dawson, Elizabeth Dunlap, Cyndi Faria, LA Fox, Tina Glasneck, Jen Grey, Leigh Kelsey, Dana Lyons, Niobe Marsh, AJ Mullican, Bee Murray, Jen Ponce, D.A. Stein, Khardine Gray, Nicole Zoltack
Cover Design by Pixie Covers.
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
These are works of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
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Contents
Clockwork Felon
Blood Cursed
Broken Chains
Abducted
Before The Storm
Elemental Beginnings
Cellblock Sorcery
Nicked
The Freed
Freak
Vampire Uncaged
Fugitive Demon
Captive Souls
Chosen
Kiss And Lock Up
Bind his wings
The Black Garden
Conjuring Asylum
Reporting For Duty
Rock, Meet Hard Place
The Prison of Despair
Bounded
Paranormal Guard
Clockwork Felon
Clockwork Academy
Maggie Alabaster
About Clockwork Felon
Nate Bentley has a goal—attend university and make something of himself. The problem was, in order to go to the only school his family can afford, he needs to break the law.
Chapter One
Nate Bentley jumped aside as the horseless carriage trundled down the street.
"Oy, watch where you're walking!" the passenger called out.
Nate shot the man a smile and adjusted his top hat. It was too warm out for the accessory, but he wanted to stand out. Or he had when he'd left home this morning.
Now, he wanted to pull off his hat and tuck it under his arm like the other men who strolled the streets of the borough. Maybe if he was conspicuous, no one would realise what he'd done. He drew in an anxious breath but straightened at the exhale and tried to look cocky. With all of his freckles and tied-back blonde hair, he probably looked more nerdy than cocky. He would have to work on that.
He tugged on the hem of his waistcoat as he did when he was nervous, and nodded at a young woman wearing a red and gold corset and a huge red plume in her hat.
"Good day, miss," he said politely.
She smiled back, and opened her mouth to reply. Her eyes widened. She looked past his shoulder and stepped away hurriedly.
Nate licked his lips. This was it. He schooled his mouth into an uncharacteristic sneer and turned around.
Just as he suspected, two members of the borough constabulary bore down on him. Both wore identical expressions—wary, but firm. They knew what he'd done, but weren't certain if he was a danger to them or anyone else.
"Stop right there," one snapped, as if Nate hadn't already. "You'll need to show us the contents of your pockets."
"Of course," Nate replied easily. At least the police in the borough were polite. Outside, in the rest of London, he would probably have been sworn at or tackled to the ground by now. They certainly would have had tasers trained on him while he put his hands in his pockets.
He drew out several chronographs, each with the price tags still attached. Exorbitant price tags, that was the point.
"What does one young man need with so many chronographs?" the first constable asked.
"I like to tell the time," Nate replied. "A lot." He smiled winningly, but on the inside his heart raced like an airship engine.
"You'll have to come with us," the constable gestured for him to hand over the watches and walk in front of them.
"Certainly." Nate did as they asked, but his eyes dropped to the ground. A crowd had started to gather. The chance he knew some of them, at least by sight, was likely. The borough a tight knit community. The constabulary was rarely needed for more than the occasional intoxicated person, or to find a lost cat. Theft was relatively rare. Of course people would stand around and gawk.
Nate was ushered toward the constabulary station and the door closed firmly behind them.
"In here, please." The second constable waved a hand toward a door.
A cell. Shit. This was just a bit too real.
Nate turned and licked his lips. Maybe if he apologised profusely…
The constable's face was hard as stone. He gave Nate a look of utter contempt.
"Get inside," he snapped. "Save your blubbering for court."
"I'm not—" But tears prickled at the corners of Nate's eyes. He blinked them away. Some kind of badass he was.
He stepped inside the cell and sat on the bench in front of the wall.
The door clanged shut. The sound echoed through his mind for several minutes afterward.
He was in trouble. Big, fucking trouble. That had been the idea, but yet…
He chewed at his fingernail and watched the cell door. It stayed firmly shut. The air seemed to get thinner and thinner. His head swam. He leaned back against the wall behind him and sucked in a few rapid breaths.
His father was going to be devastated. A man who had worked hard all his life and was proudly in charge of the team who serviced the horseless carriages, he had raised his son better than this.
"This is all for you, Dad," Nate muttered.
The door clanged open. Nate shot to his feet.
Looking both weary and wary, Nate's father stepped inside. Gerald Bentley was an older, taller version of Nate, but with much less hair.
He eyed Nate, the jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Constabulary says you got up to some funny business." Nothing in his words suggested he found anything humorous about what his son had done.
Nate swallowed and forced a smile. "I might have." He flinched at the flash of anger in his father's eyes. "I mean, I did." He looked down at a crack in the concrete floor. It was jagged like a lightning strike. Weird.
He looked back up. "At least I didn't use magic to—"
Gerald cut him off with a hand gesture. "You committed a criminal act. My son…" He shook his head. "I'm not sure if I even know who you are."
Nate's face paled. "I… I'm still me, I just…"
"Fucked up?" Gerald asked. He looked as though he was desperately trying to underst
and.
Nate glanced away. "No, I did it on purpose."
Gerald clapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. "You did what? Are you a fucking idiot? I never would have thought—"
"You know why," Nate said softly.
His father's lips dropped apart in surprise. He leaned back for a moment, then shook his head. "You did this because…" He shook his head. "We would have worked something out."
"No we wouldn't," Nate replied. "We can't afford for me to go to university in the borough. Clockwork is my only hope for a decent education."
"Clackworth is a correctional facility," Gerald said, his tone stiff. Apparently he didn't care for the nickname the younger generation used for the place. "It's an academy for delinquents."
"It's a facility for promising students to get their lives back on track while getting the best education in clockwork mechanics and magic in the country."
"Second best," Gerald reminded him.
"We couldn't afford the alternative," Nate insisted.
"So you stole." Gerald rubbed a hand over his balding head. "You'll have a criminal record forever, in the hopes you'll be sent there and not to a regular jail. Do you realise the gamble you just took?"
"If it works, it'll be worth it." If it didn't, he'd end up someone's bitch for a year or two. Or make someone his. Okay, who was he kidding? He was definitely not badass material. "You might pull some strings," he added hopefully.
"Fucking hells, boy." Gerald tugged the hem of his waistcoat, a habit Nate must have learned from him. "Do you realise the position you've put me in?"
Nate smiled wryly. "I do, I just didn't know what else to do." He sank back onto the bench. "I didn't want to spend the rest of my life etching rune stones or changing bulbs in streetlights. I want to make new technology, change the world."
The technology in the borough might look like little more than cogs and gears, but with the help of magic, it was so much more. Smarter than a smartphone, more advanced than a computer. Some day the whole world would embrace it. Nate wanted desperately to be a part of that. Desperate enough to steal.
Right now though, he wilted under his father's scrutiny.
"Better you made an honest living." Gerald leaned against the doorframe. "You've done what you've done now. You'll have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be."
Nate nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I swear, I'll make you proud of me again." Whatever it took, he would make up for this. If only the judge and his grades allowed for it.
When the verdict came, it was without the dramatic gavel drop Nate had seen on television time and again.
Rather, it came with a nod from the borough magistrate, who was also the local chocolatier.
"Nathaniel Bentley, for the crime of theft, you have pleaded guilty."
Nate nodded. "That's right, ma'am." He tipped his top hat politely.
"Very well." She glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of her. "Due to the value of the goods you procured illegally, you are sentenced to serve three years in Clackworth Correctional Facility. During that duration you will be engaged in extensive study. You will adhere to each and every rule imposed on the inmates by the guards and present head teacher."
She frowned at him. "Make no mistake. The facility is not a picnic, nor is it a free ride. You are a felon and will be treated as such. Clackworth is surrounded by an impenetrable wall of magic. It may be a minimum security facility, but do not let that convince you that you may behave as you wish. If you fail to obey the rules, you will be removed and sent to Hardbey Correctional Facility. You will find things to be considerably less…pleasant there."
Nate swallowed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He looked toward his parents who sat behind a table on the other side of the room. His mother was crying, but his father's face was unreadable.
Nate looked down toward the table in front of him.
Shit just got really, really real. To all intents, he was going to jail, for something he had done in order to be sent there. This could have backfired horribly. Nate had no doubt his father had pulled every string he had in order to make this happen. Honestly, he wondered if he deserved it. Maybe he should have gone to Hardbey like the dumbass he was.
He wiped a tear from his cheek. Damnit all to hells, he wasn't going to waste this chance.
"You'll be taken to Clackworth immediately," the judge declared.
No gavel, no ceremony, no hugs from his parents, Nate was all but pushed out the door.
"Here." The constable who had arrested him in the first place, all those weeks ago, pressed a button on the wall of the constabulary.
Nate frowned. It was just a wall…
"Oh." He startled when the wall slid to one side. "It's a door."
The constable gave him a look that clearly said, "No shit," and pushed him through. "Clockwork will take care of you now."
The door closed silently except for a final click as Nate was locked inside the facility.
"Um, thanks?" Nate shrugged and looked around him. At first glance, it looked as though he had simply stepped out a back door and into another part of the borough. The streets were clean and quiet. The buildings which stood to either side looked like the suburban terraces he'd grown up in, with a few cottages in between.
A carriage rattled past, just as they would in the borough.
"Are you sure I'm in the right place?" he asked the door.
"Nathaniel Bentley?" The man who approached was dressed in the same waistcoat, jacket, trousers, cravat and top hat combination as Nate. The colours were more subdued, but the look was welcoming. He had half expected a prison jumpsuit, or a guard with a weapon trained on him.
"Yes, that's me." Nate took off his top hat and bowed. Only when he straightened he noticed the guards who stood behind the man, hands on batons or tasers. He put up his hands. "Ready to comply."
"Yes, well, that's sparking good." The man nodded. He wasn't much older than Nate, but his hair was dark and cut short. "Follow me then."
"Are you a student?" Nate asked. He lowered his hands and walked beside the man. "Um, Mr…"
"My name is Felix Hanson, and we're inmates. Best you remember that."
"Oh, of course." Nate tucked his hat under his arm. "So they sent an inmate to make sure I didn't get lost?"
Felix gave a half smile, which inexplicably made Nate's heart skip a beat. "Things are different at Clockwork. They assume we'll do anything we can to be allowed to stay here."
"I'm guessing they'd be right," Nate said.
Felix's smile widened. "You're correct. They don't just lock any old criminals up in here. They have to be sure we're able to be rehabilitated. You won't find hardened felons here. No murderers, rapists and so on, in Clockwork. At least, no one with that kind of record."
"So, what are you here for?" Nate asked. Was that a rude question?
Evidently not, since Felix gave a wry smile. "Art forgery. I'm a painter. I couldn't resist trying my hand at copying some of the greats. No one as famous as Monet or Picasso, but great enough. A friend told me they were so good I should try to sell some." He shrugged. "For a half a million, who could resist? Turns out the buyer was a cop."
"Ouch." Nate winced. Maybe he shouldn't feel sorry for a fellow felon, but Felix seemed like a likeable guy.
Felix snorted. "Yeah. So here I am. You?"
Nate told him, except the bit about having done it all on purpose. He didn't want to look like a total dick.
"I guess you…got time." Felix grinned.
Nate laughed. "I guess so." He glanced back over his shoulder at the guards. They didn't look to be listening, but he suspected if he put a toe out of line, he'd be whipped out of here before he could blink.
They came to a stop outside a large building. "This the academy itself," Felix said. "The houses around the facility are for staff. You know, teachers, cleaners, guards and the like. We're not allowed in them. We can walk around the facility though. It's…well…one big prison yard." He pointed to the l
ampposts. "They all contain cameras, so if you even think about stepping out of line, you'll be seen. Before you ask, they're all equiped with the latest recognition technology. They go far beyond just recognising your face."
"Wow, big brother really is watching," Nate muttered.
"He really is," Felix agreed. "You might feel free here, but it's all an illusion. It's like a prison planet. You can roam, but you can't leave."
"As long as we're not enslaved," Nate remarked.
Felix chuckled. "Never that." He sighed and gestured for Nate to walk beside him up the front steps and into the academy building.
"Welcome to Clockwork. Where everything runs by clockwork, including us. Not literally," he added quickly. "The expectations on us are high. Meet it and the world is our oyster."
"Fail and be the bitch of some guy named Brutus," Nate said.
Felix snorted. "Something like that. Although," he lowered his voice, "if Brutus has a big cock, I might be willing." He gave a tentative smile.
Nate read between the lines. Felix didn't want to be anyone's bitch, he was simply saying, in a round about way, that he was gay.
Nate nodded. "I might be so inclined myself."
Felix looked relieved. "Right, great. Luckily that's not a problem here either. No one cares about preferences."
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