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

by Margo Bond Collins

  For the second time in his life, Arcadian sat with an IV in his arm and a genetic altering cocktail ready to stream into his body.

  Dear God, please let me be doing the right thing.

  Lazar said, “I examined your DNA and found a single gene from the chameleon, whether on purpose or by accident, I can’t say. The ability to dragon shift is permanently hard wired, but your lung ability is a subset of the edits that gave you wings. I reworked the wings edits and removed both the blood lust and the lung capacity to work the surface.”

  A silence settled as Arcadian pondered his situation. But he’d already done the math. If he were sent back to Draco without his lungs, he’d be downgraded to a menial laborer in Purgatory, the fifth level of Draco, and the last stop before hell on the surface of Draco Prime.

  The last time he checked pay grades, working the rest of his life as menial labor wouldn’t pay for his ticket back to Draco. He knew Pantheon, ever conscious of the bottom line, would cut him loose.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to proceed?”

  “Making me a dragon without surface lungs or the killing urge is the third miracle, Doc. From here on, I have no choice but to ride the winds of fate. I don't know where I belong, but I’ve been to hell on Draco, so come what may, my future is on Earth. Let her rip Doc. I’m ready.”

  Chapter Three

  Six Weeks Later

  “Arcadian Savoy the third, step up.”

  In the secret chambers of a federal judge somewhere in Washington DC, Arcadian lifted his chin at the sound of his name. His words to Lazar about not fearing prison came back to haunt him, as he had surrendered to Dreya and her team and been legally processed. With the future and his destiny waiting, he dared to stare the judge full in the eye.

  No matter where you sentence me, you’ll not stop me. I’m more than you are--I’m a dragon shifter from Draco. And I’m here to discover where I belong.

  He blinked slowly, unwilling to let fear rise in his heart. If there was one thing he’d learned since leaving Draco Station, it was …

  You never know how things are going to turn out.

  “Mr. Savoy, having secretly left Draco Station, you are by Draconian law a fugitive and illegal on Earth.”

  He resisted the urge to attempt engagement with one of his bright smiles. Understanding the fragile nature of his future required a more circumspect response. He cocked his head and listened intently.

  “In addition to your Draco Station status, being a genetically modified human being on Earth makes you illegal on Earth.”

  He nodded, agreeing with the judge as the truth had no defense. He was a man with no place to claim, only a destiny.

  “The problem is, no one is willing to pay your way back to Draco Station since you’re no longer able to work the surface of Draco Prime.”

  Before a smile broke free, he ducked his head. He had outmaneuvered Pantheon.

  Best move I ever made. Never going back there.

  Masking his pleasure, he glanced at the judge.

  “It seems, Mr. Savoy, you’re a liability wherever you go.”

  Unwilling to agree with her, yet taking a moment to appear contrite, he dropped his gaze again.

  “As for your Earthly crimes, the court could argue for the death sentence.”

  He held his breath and counted. One, two, three—

  “And yet you are a ten-billion-dollar investment by Pantheon, who insists you not be destroyed.”

  He exhaled slowly, still uncertain where these convoluted facts left him.

  “In spite of your claims of self-defense, per your conviction, I must sentence you. For any other case that would be a simple affair.” She shuffled through papers on her bench, drew one out and waved it.

  “But not so with you, Mr. Savoy. Apparently, there’s a late addition to this mess.” She halted to look over her glasses at him. “That being a Stay of Sentencing entered by the Species Defense Coalition pending establishment of your status as an endangered species.”

  This news stunned him, encouraging a spark of hope to rise. He leaned slightly forward with unexpected anticipation.

  “So, in accordance with the law, both international and … beyond, I sentence you to Purgatory Penitentiary until such time as your status can be further determined.” She smacked the gavel as if happy to have found a place to send him. “Mr. Savoy, is it true handcuffing your hands behind you prevents you from being able to shift to the dragon creature?”

  He nodded, not interested in escaping. His life was a progression of miracles, his sentencing only the latest, all guiding him to his true destination. While he hadn’t expected to find his place in prison, he shrugged, accepting this as an adventure along his path.

  The judge pointed to the uniformed guard. “Handcuff him from behind so he can’t shift.”

  As they removed his manacles and bound his hands behind his back, he smiled at the judge, wanting her to remember him. She surprised him when she added, “Good luck, Mr. Savoy. I wouldn’t want to be you.” When they led him away, he glanced over his shoulder at her.

  I wouldn’t want to be anyone else. I’ve seen Purgatory on Draco Station, and I’ve worked real hell on the surface, so your penitentiary is an upgrade.

  He winked and lifted his chin with acknowledgement, accepting this event as a step towards discovering his true purpose and the place he was meant to find.

  They entered the elevator, the guard’s face filling with a grin as he grunted with glee. “Huh. Self-defense. Right, Savoy. Well, if you aren’t a criminal when you get to Purgatory, you will be when you leave—if you ever do.”

  THE END

  TO BE CONTINUED

  For more of Arcadian Savoy III’s adventures as he searches for his destiny in the Purgatory Penitentiary, look for Magic is the New Black Vol. 2 coming this summer.

  Did you enjoy this story? If so, please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads or Bookbub. This author thanks you.

  And if you would like more of my writing, you can download a free compilation of my works including first chapters from full length novels, short stories, and a little steamy action for dessert! Go to https://www.paranormalromancebookauthor.com/ and sign up for my newsletter Dana’s World and receive Stories No One Else Could Write A Collection by Dana Lyons.

  About the Author

  DANA LYONS

  In 2015 and 2016 Dana Lyons was voted one of 50 Great Authors You Should Be Reading. She writes speculative fiction, hot & sexy paranormal romance including shape shifter, reverse harem and crime mystery, time travel, as well as contemporary romance, and suspense thriller.

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  The Black Garden

  A Black Garden Penitentiary Prequel

  Niobe Marsh

  About: The Black Garden

  “On the border between the Seelie and Unseelie Kingdoms, a dark garden grows…”

  The Black Garden Penitentiary holds the prisoners of the fae realms—murderers, thieves, and traitors to the crowns of each kingdom.

  When an attempt is made on the life of the crown prince of the Golden Citadel, justice is swift and brutal; but when an unknown benefactor intervenes, the culprit is hauled away to the Garden.

  The plot runs deeper than anyone knows, and those at the height of power in the Golden Citadel have their own dark agendas. Liri must stay alive any way she can, but the cards are stacked against her, and enemies are closing in from all sides.

  Will she be safe behind the ivy covered walls of the prison—or is her fate already set in stone?

  Chapter One


  At the border between the Seelie and Unseelie kingdoms, the Black Garden blooms.

  I’d spent my whole life listening to stories about what it took to be sent to the Garden. It was a threat. A cautionary tale. A place that was reserved for the very worst threats to the Summer Court.

  I never thought I’d end up here.

  But if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I was never getting out.

  “Maeral Orilana,” the guard shouted. “Stand for your sentencing.”

  The enchanted chains that bound my wrists tightened and rose into the air, hauling me to my feet.

  “Closer,” the judge said in a bored voice. He crooked a finger in my direction and the chains obeyed. The toes of my boots dragged over the flagstones and I glared up at the man the Golden Court had tasked with determining my fate.

  I deserved this. All of it.

  At least, that was what I’d told myself. And them.

  “You stand accused of the attempted murder of Adamar Fennen, prince of the Shining Throne and heir to this realm. You have confessed to your crime, and have been sentenced to death.”

  The small crowd that had gathered to watch my sentencing shouted and hissed at me. Cheered the sentence. They believed that I deserved to die for my crimes. They all did.

  If I could have lowered my head, I would have, but the enchanted chains held me fast. My shoulders ached, and the iron burned against my skin. I blinked away the tears that pricked at my lashes; they would do me no good here.

  The chains around my wrists tightened and I gasped at the sudden pain.

  “Though there is nothing that may be said that will change the decision of this court, do you have any final words before your sentence is carried out?”

  Carried out?

  Here?

  Now?

  Was my life going to end on the mossy stones of the Citadel courtyard?

  I swallowed thickly but there was no use in saying anything.

  Adamar. How could you let them take me?

  I looked up at the crumbling stone walls that rose above us, hoping for a sign. Hoping that there would be something…

  The judge pointed to the stones at his feet and the chains dragged me down. My knees hit the flagstones hard and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

  I could see the blue glow of the executioner’s sword on the rain-wet stones. Heard the sound of his approaching footsteps and the way each link of his chainmail clicked as he strode forward. I knew him… I had seen him in the stone corridor only a few days ago, and now he would take my life and hold my head aloft for the applause of the fae who had come to see justice done on a traitor.

  Traitor.

  “Maeral Orilana, you have brought shame upon your household. Shame upon the guild of which you were a member. You have abused your position in the royal household, and you will die for your crimes against the Summer Crown.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to watch that blue glow. That couldn’t be the last thing I saw. I tried to lift my head, but the chains dragged me down.

  Every sound was loud in my ears, and I heard the executioner’s grunt as he lifted his sword high into the air. My tears stung as they flowed down my cheeks. Bitter tears for my sister. For my family who would be shamed forever—stained by my blood. For Adamar…

  An owl’s piercing shriek cut through through the night air and I sucked in a breath of surprise. A murmur rippled through the crowd. I knew that cry as well as any citizen of the realm, the Owls of Fennen answered to one family—the only family that mattered in this kingdom.

  “Wait!” someone shouted. “The bird—”

  I dared to open my eyes and almost sobbed to see that the blue glow of the executioner’s sword was not reflected in the black stones in front of me.

  A hushed silence fell over the small crowd and I dared to hope that something had happened—

  “Take her,” the guard barked.

  The enchanted chains jerked me upright and wound around my torso and legs, binding me tightly. I squirmed, but the chains tightened and squeezed the breath from my lungs, leaving me gasping for air as I was lifted off the ground.

  The owl I had heard was perched upon the keystone of the archway that led into the Citadel. It glared down at me with its deep black eyes and I looked away quickly. The judge held a piece of paper in his long fingers and stared at me with an equally baleful gaze.

  “The will of the Summer Throne shall be done,” he said solemnly.

  Pale blue flames engulfed his hand and I watched with wide eyes as the paper he held curled and blackened and then fell to ash upon the stones.

  “What—” I choked out, but my words were drowned out by the hissing and jeering of the crowd. The judge snapped his fingers and my jaw froze. There would be no opportunity to ask what was happening to me now. All I knew was that I should be grateful. Whatever had happened. Whoever had sent the message… They had saved my life. I didn’t know what such a thing was worth, but at least my last memories wouldn’t be of a crowd of fae applauding my death and the sound of my own people calling for my undeserving, traitorous blood echoing in my ears.

  “Take her to the Garden,” the judge said.

  He closed his fist and the pale blue flames crackled and died. He brushed his fingers against the fabric of his richly embroidered robe and turned to walk through the archway and into the Citadel.

  The crowd shuffled after him and the golden owl that had brought the message spread its great wings and I heard its talons scrape against the stone as the raptor launched itself from its perch and flew away into the night sky.

  The Garden.

  A panic deeper than the one that had throbbed in my chest for the last three days took hold of me and I struggled weakly against the chains that held me. It would do me no good… but I had to try to get away.

  One of the guards who had dragged me here to face my judgement placed the butt of his spear against my back and pushed. I floated forward like a balloon and I could only glare at the men who laughed as they saw my anger.

  “You can rest easy now,” one of them chuckled. “Off to a life of luxury in the Garden.”

  “It should have been death,” the second one grumbled.

  “The Garden’s worse,” the first argued.

  I couldn’t ask questions even if I wanted to. The judge’s spell would keep me silent until I had passed the reach of his magic, and there was no way to tell when that would be. My jaw ached. My legs and shoulders ached. Everything ached; from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

  Death would have been a relief.

  No more loose ends.

  No more conspiracies.

  No more secrets.

  No more shame.

  But there would be no relief for me.

  A black wagon with barred windows drawn by two gray horses rolled toward the iron gates of the citadel.

  The first guard pushed me through the gate and I winced as my jaw unlocked and I could finally draw a proper breath.

  “A wagon?” I choked out. I had expected to be spelled away, why would the Summer Throne waste a wagon on the likes of me?

  “No magic in the Garden, girl,” the second guard growled. The sword strike that had scarred his face had taken the tip of one pointed ear with it. He was probably a veteran of some forgotten war I had never heard of—a great soldier reduced to guard duty… or a shitty one who had been given this post as a consolation prize for his service. Whatever his story was, I didn’t like the way he looked at me. He was the one who thought I should have been dead... I’d remember that ugly face.

  The driver leapt down from the wagon and opened the barred doors. The first guard shoved the butt of his spear into the small of my back and pushed me toward the wagon.

  “You’re carryin’ traitorous goods tonight, Beddon,” the second guard laughed. “Better go quick before they change their minds.”

  The driver eyed me curiously and I looked down at my boots inste
ad of meeting his judgemental gaze. I’d had my fill of stares and whispers.

  “Who is she?” the driver asked.

  “Who is she?” the first guard snorted as he pushed me into the wagon. He snapped his fingers and the enchanted chains snaked out and threaded through iron rings that had been affixed to the wooden floor of the wagon box. There were no seats, and The chains wrenched me down to the floor roughly. I fell in a heap and the chains tightened around my torso once more.

  “This is Maeril Orilana,” the guard said. “She doesnae look like much, but she came within an inch of murdering our prince.”

  The guard spat on the ground and glared into the wagon at me. The driver slammed the doors shut and I heard the clatter of the chains that he wrapped around the handles. He murmured a spell over them, and the chains that held me down tightened a little more as his magic rippled through the vehicle.

  “She doesnae look like a murderer,” the driver said.

  “They never do,” the first guard said. “Get ye gone.”

  The driver turned his curious face away from the barred windows and I felt the wagon shift as he climbed up into his seat once more. His whip snapped over the back of the gray horses and the wagon lurched as they leapt forward into a quick trot.