We moved through several gates. The bus came to a grinding halt, and the guard jumped up like an old retired marine. “Stand up,” he ordered.
We shuffled off the bus. Our chains and shackles rattled loudly. Herded into processing, and after another strip search, and the holding cell, inmates were called in to medical, one after the other.
But from down the hall, I heard the torturous screams.
Inside, there seemed to be a mix of humans and elves. The guards handed us over to the medical staff, and there we now waited. Still, my bus mate stayed practically attached to me. “What’s your magical power?” she asked. “Is that how you got caught?”
It still bothered me as to how I ended up here, and how the guards knew where and when to find me. Someone had snitched me out, but still, the rules needed to remain in place to protect the others and relinquish all contact to the rebels. It was easier not to break them or place them in danger by asking questions.
“I don’t have time for this. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For you to end up in this part, waiting for the doctor, they are surely going to test you and see.”
The door opened, and a nurse called my name, “Sumner.”
I didn’t know what to expect or how much the woman from the bus knew, but I did know that this was my chance to plead my case. I wasn’t magical. There was no reason for me to end up in this place.
“Jump up on the bed,” the nurse ordered. Her blonde hair was shorn, her complexion an unhealthy gray, as well as what should have been the whites of her eyes. I flinched. Was she terminally ill? Did she have argyria? I broke eye contact and stared down at my swing-socked feet. “You’ll get used to seeing a lot of things here that are new to you.”
“Like you?”
“A Supernatural Prison has everything in here from fairy godmothers to leprechauns, all those who could use magic, like you.”
“I’m human,” I sputtered.
Our conversation was swinging back and forth like a pendulum. I had no idea how she came to that conclusion.
“Your bloodwork says something quite different.” She took my hand and jammed a needle into my arm, filling up a tube.
I winced, clenched my teeth together, and watched the vial fill up with purple blood. Dumbfoundedly, I stared. The nurse held the vial to the light, and it freaking shimmered.
She passed me a card. “You’ll need to keep track of this, memorize your number, and find your place. And if you want to hear a simple tip, because this supernatural stuff seems to be new to you, you’ve been drafted to the games, as well.”
“Is this something I should be happy about?”
“It makes it so you have the right to solitary confinement, and then to train, or would you rather be a part of the general population?”
The way she asked assured me I’d probably end up dead before I even made it to general population.
“I’m trying to help you here. I’ve seen blood like yours before. Until your blood congeals with whatever it was that you had infused in your system, you’re too weak for general population, but you can become strong enough to stay alive in the games and win a place on the Hawaii Block.”
“Hawaii?”
“It’s like a crapptastic vacation, where all you have to worry about is commissary, and not getting shanked.”
I had to do everything I could to survive. “Okay, nurse, sign me up.”
“Great, you’re a smart cookie. The best advice I can give you is to find a team that will be willing to show you the ropes. The turnaround here for earning and keeping your spot isn’t an easy one. But the rewards are better than what you can get out there on the streets.”
She then grabbed my folder, filled out and signed a couple of forms, and sent me on my way.
Chapter Six
I tugged at the iron collar around my neck. Just like the fairies I’d seen at the initial heist.
The nurse hadn't mentioned why I'd received it, but once behind the walls, things changed: no longer were the guards in all of this paramilitary, space marine unit apparel. Instead, maybe they'd realized that it made more sense for humans to care for humans. Out there, everything screamed invasion, but inside, it was like we'd stepped back in time to Y2K, right before we thought the world was going to end.
As a small tot, I could still recall the sheer panic, the cold sweats, and shaking until I was numb. My mother and siblings gathering can goods to store in the basement, while we all wondered how the world would end by lacking one zero in a computer clock. Airplanes were supposed to fall from the sky, debt magically erased.
Then when nothing happened, we'd had to eat all of those beans: bean pie, bean soup, bean bread. Heck, eggs and beans.
To this day, I couldn’t stand the stench of beans cooking.
Following the guard in a line of inmates, I shuffled after them. Clutching my pillow and a welcome bag of toiletries, I wasn't looking forward to this huge introduction. Even now, I could hear the noise of female voices mixing in the distance. An alarm buzzed, and the iron door separating the hallway from the living quarters slowly rolled back. The stench of burnt beans hit my nose, and I winced. My stomach somersaulted.
“Kristen Sumner, follow me. The others, follow Officer Kotov to the mess hall.” The others broke off and I marched along with the officer. Following him, I watched how he moved as if power was a part of his body. His steps were determined. I lowered my gaze and watched my feet. I didn't need any trouble.
“I am Officer Oberon, and I will be your guide to prepare you for the games.” Up until now, I'd paid little to no attention to him. For a prison officer, I expected his black-and-silver hair to be military short, but instead, it cascaded over his shoulders. Handsome in that smoldering sort of way. I shook my head, wondering where that thought had come from. He was broad-shouldered, and when I peeked up again, I saw him staring at me with piqued curiosity. A light stubble covered his square jaw.
“I’ve taken the bet to turn you into the best fighter here.”
I wasn’t much of a fighter and knew less than the average person of what it meant to survive in this world.
“I hate to say that you’ve wasted your money.”
“No, I know a thing or two about potential, and you have it. I can smell it on you, in you.” He leaned his head back and sniffed the air. “Whatever you have coursing through your veins now mutates.”
My mouth went dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You might not now, but you will. You see, the longer the fairy blood mixes with your own, it changes your DNA, my dear. Gifting you with skills you never knew and unlocking abilities you have yet to discover.”
I chuckled. “So, I won’t have to train, that’s good to know.”
“That is not the way the Fae gifts work. Most humans who take the blood die from the toxins, but not you. I wonder why.”
I remained quiet as he led me to G Block. A large G was painted on the wall next to the sliding gate, and someone had taken the time to create and paint a colorful phoenix on it. It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen since I'd arrived.
The gate slid open, and in I walked. The area was empty—three stories with barred cells.
Three tiers all painted in different colors: red, green, and yellow. Maybe that, too, signified something.
I followed him up the flight of stairs to the second floor, painted in the mustard yellow. “Since you are new, you will need to be tested to see where you go, and I will help you with that. But there are factions here. Uncomfortable factions. It is said that there are those here who bear the curse, and they seek nothing more than to kill, murder, destroy, and you will walk in their den.”
“Single bunk?”
“Everyone starts in solitary to gauge your talents. You are talented, yes?”
The way he asked made me even more uncertain of what I’d gotten myself into. I glanced around the sparse room: a single bunk, a stainless-steel toilet-sink combination, and
barred windows that allowed some filtered sunlight to float in.
I plopped my pillow on my bunk.
“Now that you're settled, let's get started with why you’re here.”
The “why I was there” was irrelevant. “I'm just paying my debt to society.”
Without much thought, it seemed like this place was a maze. We walked up one corridor to then walk down another—a labyrinth of repercussions? Maybe.
Finally, we exited into a gymnasium-like room busy with prisoners sparring. The prison door clanked shut behind us with a loud click. The concrete walls had peeling paint, but it was filled with weapons. The clutter of weaponry included pikes, spears, pole axes, swords, everything a medieval armory needed, but nothing automatic like what this modern girl might be proficient with.
It didn't look right at all.
They gave prisoners weapons? What was the use of anyone making a shank then?
“Pick your poison.” He pointed at the large wooden weapons rack that rested against the white, scuffed wall. “Here in the weaponry depot, you will choose the weapon used to defend your very life.”
This wasn’t like entering a kitchen and yanking a random knife out of the knife block. My weapon out there in the real world had been a hunting rifle with a scope. Melee weapons that required hand-to-hand combat were out of my wheelhouse. It didn’t particularly matter if they were pointed, edged, or blunt. To me, they were like shoes that I might swat something with, but that was it.
“Uh,” I started.
“The thing about picking a weapon is finding one that speaks to you. I wouldn’t even try the one stuck in the stone, though.” He grimaced. “Just a little humor. No one has been able to pull that one out.”
I moved over toward the rack and stretched out my hand. It all felt utterly silly at first until I heard a slight humming that came the closer my hand moved toward the handle of a sword. The handle had runes etched into it.
“Oh, a good choice. Many have tried to use the sword, sing the kenning of the Laevateinn, Lord of the Fairy’s Frey’s sword. It must be meant for you.”
“Uh, doesn’t he need it?” I pulled the sword out from the rack, and a sizzle of energy moved through me. From everything I remembered of my Norse mythology, the god Freyr was the goddess’s Freyja’s brother, but also the god of plenty. Why would his sword work for me?
The bell chimed, and those who only a few seconds ago were sparring, were now sizing me up, and their gazes were hostile, their auras a fiery red.
“That’s new,” I said to myself. In all of my time of Ola talking about energy and having some sort of clairvoyance, I’d never understood. I thought auras were what you’d get only on video games to tell you the health of your character. But like all the other stuff coming my way, this was new, too.
“I might have forgotten to say that everyone has longed for that sword. Possessing it puts you automatically as the contender to beat.”
I dropped the sword with a quickness. It clattered to the ground, spun around, and levitated like it was trying to float back to my hand.
They surrounded me, ready to jump me.
I turned to Officer Oberon, who grinned in delight. He raised his arm and sliced it down in the air like he was chopping an invisible cement block. “Now, fight!”
I had no choice, no training, and it would only be a moment before I got my ass handed to me.
I was right. But it was from the ones surrounding me. They didn’t take a swing, but waited.
The ground shook, like an earthquake’s tremors cascaded over the arena. The crowd then parted to reveal a beast of a troll. It moved like a predator, swinging a large mace. It was as if he was possessed by an evil spirit. His marbled skin cracked, every muscle outlined. His eyes glowed orange. He must have been here for a while as his face showed scarring. His lips thinned out to reveal sharp, razor-like teeth. He was as tall as a tower. I leaned back to look fully upon him. The ground thudded beneath us as he beat on his shaved head.
Frozen before him, he swung back his arm, knocking me to the ground. My arm burned where his mace hit, but no blood seeped through my clothes. I cried out in pain.
He went to swing again, and seeing the mace come ever closer, a voice I barely recognized as my own surrounded me, whisking by to form a protective force field around me. For every swing, the force of it seemed to bounce back on him until he teetered and tottered on his feet.
And collapsed with a loud boom.
An audible gasp moved across the crowd, and their heavy, anger-fueled gazes rested on me. “That’s one way to introduce yourself.” The one from the bus nodded her head, thinning out her lips. Unlike before, there was no kindness in her face now, just indifference.
Instead of joining a faction, I’d at least made it so I didn’t have as big of a target on my back.
I heard Officer Oberon sigh. I wasn’t sure if he’d lost that bet or not.
“Enough. Looks like we have to take you to Medical, inmate.” He moved to my side, helped me up. And with a snap of his fingers, my prized sword floated back to its place in the stone.
“That was Xi who you took down. The champion here. Not sure if that was good of you or not. Very interesting about the force field. Did you know you could do that?”
I remained quiet, clenching my teeth as the pain from my arm seemed to radiate through me.
He carried me along to Medical, gates opening and closing before and behind us with an incessant buzzing. The more we walked, the more I thought I must be losing blood after all.
“I’m…a little bit woozy,” I slurred.
“Yeah, Xi’s weapon must have had some of her troll toxin on it. Never trust a troll.”
Chapter Seven
Back in Medical, the lights burned from overhead, and I awoke on an otherwise comfortable doctor’s bed. White curtains hung along one window, blocking some of the natural light, as the unnaturally bright lights above sought to replace the sun’s beauty. I leaned forward, unsure of how long I’d been out.
Dressed in a hospital gown, a little discombobulated, I looked to my left and right. The room was no larger than the average living room, with space for five beds.
Glancing to my left, I spotted Rust, battered and bruised next to me. How could that be?
I swung my feet out of bed and rushed to his side. “Rust, love, are you okay? What are you doing here?”
One eye was swollen shut, and the other one barely opened. He stared at me in fear, groaning. I tried to touch him, but he flinched instead.
“Don’t say anything, Kristen. You don’t know me. We don’t know each other.”
“Why? I’d never deny you. What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
“They’re doing experiments on people, things, everything, and convinced there’s a pocket of supernaturals they need to bring down for the elves to fully ascend.” He stopped and squinted. “How are you so fit?”
I moved my arm, touching where the mace should have done serious damage and found nothing but my normal, whole arm completely intact—no broken bones, bruising, or anything else.
“The fairies create the mana; they’re drained of their magic, which is then bottled and used for the elves.”
This wasn’t news. It was what Fyre had told me what seemed like only yesterday.
“Something tells me that you know more,” I countered.
“The mana is only a carrot to find the supernatural population in their midst. They want to open up a portal between realms.”
“What type of portal?” Portals to another realm? Well, that would be new information helpful for the cause, should I find a way to communicate to the rebel forces.
“One that will usher pure, unadulterated evil.”
I took his hand. “We’ve already survived the apocalypse. What more could they do to us?”
“Never ask that question.” He raised his hand to cup my cheek. “I love you, and I must protect all that we might one day have.”
�
�What does that mean?” I asked, sensing his pain.
“We’re just experiencing round one, love, and if we’re going to survive, we have to do it together.”
“Psst.” I heard from the other side. “Kristen?” I recognized that female voice and saw Sif resting on the bed. Her usual vibrant self seemed weaker, dazed and confused, and tortured. Even while just wearing the prison’s orange jumpsuit, what I could see wasn’t good. Her body bore bruises like she, too, had been battling.
“You’re alive.” I sighed in relief.
Just then, the wall imploded, spewing concrete shards around the room, and a giant, as large as King Kong, reached in and snatched Sif away.
“Sif!” I screamed.
But it was too late. Sif was gone.
The End
Continue in this supernatural world! Dive into the HELL CHRONICLES with Kristen, Ola, Chi and Sif, when the gods come to town bringing a lot of hell with them. Start the Hell Chronicles with HELLBENT! Learn more about the Hell Chronicles on Tina’s Website!
About the Author
Tina Glasneck is a USA Today bestselling author and is passionate about magic and myth. Very much influenced by Norse myth and legends, she’s looking forward to catching up with Loki and Lady Hel. She might even have tea with Freyja.
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Chosen
Half-Bred Prison Series
Jen L. Grey
Chapter One
Hexes and Handcuffs: A Limited Edition Collection of Supernatural Prison Stories Page 32
