Hexes and Handcuffs: A Limited Edition Collection of Supernatural Prison Stories

by Margo Bond Collins

  Chapter Two

  Two Months Later

  For the last time, Arcadian gazed out at the expanse of empty space from the observation deck of Draco Station. Within hours, he’d embark on the shuttle as Wesley Anderson, a water plant engineer returning to Earth at the end of his contract.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted Shelby coming up the ramp. He turned aside and pivoted as she passed to keep his back to her.

  No time for chit chat, today.

  She kept walking, and he checked his watch before moving up the ramp toward The End of the Line bar. He took a seat in the rear to watch the crowd that trickled in after shift change. Right on time, Ron Jackson, a plumber, walked in.

  A shiver of thrill raced down Arcadian’s back. After months of morphing into other people and controlling the process to split second execution, he was ready to leave. His heart sped up with adrenaline and he watched, murmuring, “That’s right, sit where you always sit, order that whiskey.” He silently mouthed the words before Jackson ordered. “Make it a double. Be right back.”

  As predicted, Jackson slid into a seat and ordered, “Whiskey, Mac, make it a double.” Mac brought a heavy bucket glass filled with the amber liquid and Jackson sipped, then announced, “Be right back.”

  Knowing Jackson’s routine, Arcadian sauntered in behind him. He took the stall next to Jackson and waited while Jackson flushed a toilet then exited. Quickly, Arcadian slipped into Jackson’s stall and gently swiped at the toilet handle with a piece of toilet paper.

  He returned to his apartment, so breathless with excitement his hand shook when he set down the DNA laden paper. Everything waited, ready for this moment. He put on a plumber’s uniform and then collected the toilet paper with Jackson’s DNA. He wiped the paper on the back of his hand.

  Eyes closed, heart filled with the powerful need and desire to leave Draco, he envisioned himself as the plumber, imagined the weight of a wrench in his hand, pictured himself tightening a pipe. Having practiced daily for the last several weeks, he’d learned a strong visual accelerated the process, making it happen within seconds. The tingle and burn combined to create a flash that shot across his body as he morphed. He checked in the mirror—the perfect image of Ron Jackson stared back.

  He picked up a clipboard, then stuffed a quick-inject sedative he got from the pharmacy into his pocket. Knowing he would never be back, he exited his luxurious apartment with a sense of accomplishment. He marched to Wesley Anderson’s and knocked, waiting for the door to open to his freedom.

  Knowing he was this close to leaving Draco Station, his heartbeat accelerated like crazy. When Anderson answered the door, Arcadian glanced at his clipboard to hide the excitement in his face. When he wore another person’s DNA, he still felt like himself, necessitating having to hide his emotions and reactions.

  “Uh, Mr. Anderson, I have you scheduled for a routine maintenance check. Can I come in?”

  Wesley smiled broadly. “I’m leaving, so you can have it.” He swung the door wide and motioned Arcadian in. Arcadian entered and spotted Anderson’s passport on the table next to his packed bags.

  Good. That’s all I need.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

  “This way,” Anderson said, leading him down a hallway. Arcadian set down the clipboard and followed, removing the injectable sedative from his pocket. Ten minutes later, Arcadian exited Wesley’s apartment wearing Wesley’s DNA and carrying his bags and passport.

  By the time the sedative wore off and Wesley Anderson accused Ron the plumber of accosting him, Arcadian would be on his way to Earth. By the time they discovered Arcadian Savoy III had not reported back to work after his vacation, he’d be lost in the faceless crowds of Earth.

  For the several days flight on the shuttle, he kept to his cabin as much as possible. Once the rocket docked, he and Wesley’s DNA were the first to exit down the ramp.

  At Customs, he had a bright smile for the agent, who blushed when he winked. She stamped his passport, smiling. “Welcome back to Earth, Mr. Anderson.”

  Welcome to Earth. The words and the reality infused him with a sweeping elation so strong he had to fight the urge to shift and spread his wings with joy. Instead, he corralled his emotions and collected his passport.

  Ahead of him, a young man about his size pulled open the door, leaving his DNA on the handle. Arcadian grazed the handle lightly, just enough to collect the surface DNA. Once on the street, he placed that hand in his pocket, sheltering the DNA until he had a private moment.

  The next day, wearing the DNA of the young man he saw leaving customs, he arrived in New York City, traveling on Earth currency he’d won at the poker tables on Draco. Exhausted, he stopped by a coffee shop and ordered a triple espresso. He took his drink to a seat by the window.

  ‘Freedom’ whistled through his mind, bringing him a smile. The espresso left a sharp bite on his tongue, making his mouth water and his lips pucker. Two tables away, a cluster of young girls chatted, tickling his ears with talk of boys and make-up. The sun shone on him through the window, the real thing being a far cry from the simulations on Draco.

  He lifted his face and closed his eyes. In a state of emotional and physical relaxation, he dropped his cup. The pop of it shattering on the tile floor jolted him. Realizing what he’d done, he instantly morphed into the young man again. No one behind him would have seen his transition, but a rough-looking, unshaven man on the sidewalk outside did.

  He saw me.

  His elation collapsed, replaced with fear of capture and being sent back to Draco.

  I have to find Lazar.

  Hands shaking and stomach now sour and jittery from the caffeine, he shot to his feet and walked out the door. The man who spied him talked on a phone, but the side glances he peppered Arcadian with boded ill will. Arcadian dived into the heavy sidewalk traffic in a panic.

  He went several blocks and changed sides of the street twice, not seeing the man anywhere. He reversed direction and took an irregular pattern through the streets, maintaining the general direction he needed to reach Lazar’s address, until his sense of peril receded and his pounding heart finally calmed.

  Whew, that was close. I have to be more careful.

  With Lazar’s address and directions in his mind, he began walking. When he reached the first corner, a drone buzzed overhead, drawing his eye upward. At that moment, a van screeched to a stop in front of him, the side door slammed open, and two men dragged him in.

  Visceral panic bloomed at being assaulted; such violence didn’t happen on Draco. He opened his mouth to scream, but they stuffed it with a bitter tasting cloth. Next a black fabric sack dropped over his head, adding claustrophobia to his distress.

  Before he could shift, everything swam into black.

  “I’m telling you, he’s a freak, some kind of chameleon or something. I saw his face change. I shit you not.” The excited words invaded Arcadian’s consciousness through a blur of darkness.

  “I have a line of interested buyers going around the block, so I’m not sitting on him. You want this bad boy, bring the cash and be here within the hour.”

  Arcadian blinked. The black sack had been removed from his head. His hands were bound in front, along with straps lashing him to a stout wooden chair. The word ‘buyers’ echoed in his recent memory. With effort, he asked, “What do you want?” Fear of another person, an unknown emotion to him, skittered down his back. He frowned, uncertain what to do. Earth crime and law had not been on his list of research, only Lazar.

  What have I done?

  The man swaggered back and forth. “I saw you, man. I saw you change your face. And I have one helluva heavy hitter coming to give me a load of money for you.” A chorus of agreement came from the shadows.

  Arcadian glanced about. A large dark building seeming abandoned; two cohorts in the corner; him tied to a chair. A flash of anger rose from his belly, fueled by his indomitable need to seek his place and find his destiny.


  This is not why I came to Earth.

  He flexed his muscles to test his bindings.

  Gonna take a dragon to get out of this.

  During his months of practice in controlling the morphing process, he’d become adept at managing this ability. He closed his eyes and envisioned his form as dragon, imagined his wings opening, his legs expanding with a rush of growth hormones and morphing chemicals.

  His captor turned his back and stared alternately at his watch, then out the glass door. His two companions joined him.

  Arcadian slowly expanded his body until first the seams on his pants gradually ripped, then the buttons popped off his shirt. He strained against the ropes binding his hands and they stretched and snapped. He stood slowly, going to his full eight-foot height.

  One of the men heard and turned. His mouth gaped open and he tugged at the first man’s shirt. That one excitedly pointed out the door. “Look, they’re here.”

  “No, boss,” the second man said. “Look!”

  Arcadian’s blue and gold scales gleamed even in the low light. He stepped away from the chair and flexed open his wings to their full width. They expanded with a pop and he roared as fear manifested self-defense chemicals, turning his voice into a scrap of angry air rushing over dragon vocal chords.

  The first man pulled a gun from his waistband. Before he could shoot, Arcadian rushed him and wrenched the weapon from his hand. He tossed the gun one way and heaved the man against the wall where he landed with a grunt and slumped to the floor.

  The second man lunged for the gun, but Arcadian beat him there and lashed out with one of his wing claws. The claw opened the man’s torso from neck to hip bone, dropping him in a bubbling wash of blood.

  Instinct repulsed him as the blood spilled, yet he snarled, still feeling threatened. The remaining man turned white and ran for the door, screaming ‘Diablo!’ as he sped off. Following close behind him, Arcadian ripped the door off the hinges, ducked through and strode outside.

  A large armored vehicle pulled into the empty parking lot and a man got out, followed by other men with more guns.

  Seeing only one way out, Arcadian lifted into the sky.

  At his home in the rich suburbs of New York, Dr. Anthony Lazar stirred his coffee by the kitchen window. He gazed at the manicured lawn as a large dragon shifter landed in the front yard. The beast’s blue and gold scales glistened in the sun before it quickly shifted to human.

  Shock stunned Lazar for a moment.

  This creature is from Draco. What’s he doing on Earth?

  Before he could consider the questions, the doorbell rang. He opened the front door to a naked man, confirming his primary suspicion.

  Draco Station and Pantheon.

  “Help me, Dr. Lazar. Please, don't let them send me back.”

  With no time to think, Lazar glanced right and left, then pulled the man in and shut the door.

  “I’m Arcadian Savoy and I’m from--”

  “I know where you’re from,” Lazar interrupted. This shifter’s arrival sent a wonderful giddy sensation through his belly, brightening his morning. It didn’t take long to surmise some Pantheon shenanigans had gone awry, sending this creature to Earth. He grinned. Catching the multi-level corporation with their pants down made his day.

  Pantheon, what have you done?

  He pushed his mischievous thoughts aside. “You need clothes, Mr. Savoy, wait here. I’ll get you something to put on.” He stopped at the blinds and peeked through as he drew them closed. Quickly, he collected clothing, grinning with excitement.

  “Here, these should fit.” He pointed to a bathroom. “You can dress in there.”

  While Savoy dressed, Lazar made a fresh pot of coffee, busying his hands until he heard the story. He glanced up as the shifter walked into the kitchen, willing his thoughts to calm and motioned to the table. “Coffee?” When they had their drinks, he asked, “Just how do you come to be here, Mr. Savoy?”

  “I couldn’t stay on station, doctor. I didn’t belong there, I couldn’t find my place there. Once I became a dragon, everything changed--beyond my genetics. Becoming a dragon changed not only what I was, but who I was.” He glanced away, his lips a grim line of determination. “I want more from life than scraping the surface of Draco Prime. Can you make me human again?”

  Lazar paused before answering in order to choose his words. “What was changed in your DNA by the editing cocktail can’t be reversed, you will always remain a dragon shifter.” At the shifter’s disappointed expression and slumped shoulders, he rushed on. “But from what you’ve said, you don't want to lose your dragon shifting. Isn’t that the seat of your new identity?”

  “Yes,” Savoy said, “But in order to be free of Pantheon, I need to be worthless to them.”

  Lazar smiled and patted Savoy on the back. “Oh, I can make you worthless to Pantheon. All I have to do is eliminate your ability to breathe the toxic atmosphere on Draco.” He gazed off, considering the gene editing required. “Yes, I believe that would that solve your problem.”

  Savoy sobbed, his handsome face awash with tears. “You can do that? Yes. That would solve my problem.”

  The man’s earnest words and expression appealed to Lazar. As the one-time master of Draco Station’s genetic manipulation, he had strong opinions on the topic of genetics, now believing modification should only be done to improve the individual. Savoy’s editing satisfied that criteria and would be a challenge, suitably appealing to his rebellious and intellectual nature. “Just how did you get here?”

  In answer, Savoy lifted his hand. “May I touch you?”

  Curiosity piqued, and not sensing any threat, Lazar nodded. The shifter touched Lazar’s cheek, then rubbed those fingers on the back of his hand. Within seconds, he morphed into--

  Me.

  Lazar pulled back. The exactness of the image disturbed him. He leaned forward and peered into the man’s face. “Amazing. You are me, exactly. Is this ability a deliberate modification, or an aberration after the fact?”

  “After the fact, I’m sure, though whether either aberration or evolution, I can’t say,” Savoy said with a shrug. “I discovered I could morph into others, figured out how to use it to get off station, and came to you for help.”

  “But I saw you land. You flew in. Didn’t you think that would attract attention?”

  “Once you change me so I can’t be sent back to Draco, I’m happy to stay here, even if it means being in prison. But I had to fly to escape. Some men captured and held me and were going to sell me for a lot of money.” He frowned. “What manner of behavior is this on Earth? I had to kill a man in self-defense.”

  Lazar grimaced. “Uh oh. That’s not good. Did anyone see you fly off?”

  “Yes. The people who came to buy me, I think.”

  “Then we’re pressed for time in that respect. When will Pantheon notify Earth you’re here?”

  “I just arrived. They won’t know I’m missing for a week, so the news won’t come until the next shuttle returns through the worm hole. Can you help me in time?”

  “Pantheon doesn’t bother me,” Lazar mused. His mind hummed with ideas for Savoy’s second round of gene editing; he didn’t get many opportunities to edit humans since leaving Draco. This and Savoy’s high stakes commitment increased his desire to help. “And yes, we have time to edit you. But I’m afraid your sighting and activities will bring the law down on us quickly.”

  “I didn’t enjoy killing that man, in fact I found it utterly repugnant,” Savoy said. He grabbed Lazar’s arm. “The blood lust, can you remove that, too? I’m not a killer, I’m just a dragon shifter. I want to fly but I don't want to kill like Nate did.” He glanced off, his mouth and brow pinched. “I’ve never known fear, never been assaulted—you know how it is on Draco, all love and good times. Killing that man horrified me. I never want to feel that again.”

  Lazar searched Savoy’s eyes. The man held hope and sincerity in his gaze. “You’re a genetic anomaly on Earth.
You won’t find kinship anywhere; you’ll always be an outsider. You’ve risked all to get here, but have you thought of the difficulties you’ll encounter on Earth?”

  Grief rippled across Savoy’s face, and the words came out thick and grating like gravel. “I could never be happy on Draco, working the surface.” But he glanced up with hope. “I want to use my dragon shifting for a better purpose than making rich people richer. I don't know how, but somewhere, I’ll find my place, where I’m meant to be. A place where all of that you mentioned doesn’t matter.”

  Much of Lazar’s time was spent with government lackeys, corporate fools, and wealthy idiots, where sincerity and genuine desire to help were a novelty. In contrast, a light glowed in Savoy’s eyes, a light of hope and faith and determination, a genuine light Lazar had not witnessed in a long time.

  He has more faith and hope than I do. How can I not help him, especially if I get to spit in Pantheon’s eye?

  “We shouldn’t consider this lightly,” he said solemnly. “I mean, we’re thwarting Pantheon, a powerful entity. And you killing a man and flying about will probably draw out Dreya and her FBI team. Add all that up and--I’m in.” He grinned and rose, motioning Savoy to follow. “Come on, I’ll need a blood sample to start.”

  He opened the locked door to his private laboratory in the basement. He’d be breaking federal law, but the dirt he had on Pantheon and the congressional cabal who collected kickbacks from the black ops station kept him immune. What appealed to him most was thumbing his nose at Pantheon. “They can’t do anything to me,” he mused aloud. He stopped to issue a warning. “But they’ll most certainly come for you, you know. Dreya and her team, they’re edited and they’ll find you.”

  “I remember them from Draco when Nate went flying and killing,” Savoy replied. In somber tones, he added, “I look forward to meeting them.”

  Downstairs, Lazar prepped Savoy’s arm for the blood draw. As the deep red blood filled the syringe, Savoy said, “Once you fix me so I can’t work the surface, I have nothing to run from, Doc. I’m free to find where I belong.” He gazed off and his voice went soft. “I’ve experienced two miracles. All I need is one more.”