by C. P. Rider
She pointed to the last door on the right. "My room is over there. There aren't any guards, so you can relax. No need to spike anyone tonight."
"Not like I could, right?" I pointed at her charm. "Now that they're all wearing those."
"My charm?" She smiled, and again the odd bleakness in it was unsettling. "They don't have these. Only I do."
I blinked. "I don't understand. If you're on their side, why wouldn't you give them protection against me?"
"On their side," she repeated. "Am I?"
We stopped in front of a white door. "I've been enjoying the show since you arrived. So has Garrett Harris. I think he views the guards here the way the samurai viewed peasants in feudal Japan. There are stories that say the samurai used to test sharpened swords on them, you know."
"Great. I'm a paranormal samurai."
"Actually, that would make you a paranormal katana. You being the sword, Garrett Harris being the samurai."
She opened the door and we entered a room that resembled the interior of carton of milk. Every wall, every surface, every decoration was white. There wasn't so much as a hint of color in sight.
"The bathroom is down that hall. Sorry, there's nothing sharp in there. Not even a razor. I didn't know if I could trust you, and frankly, you did slap me and try to shoot me, so I think I'll continue to play it safe. But there's soap and shampoo and clean towels. I put some clothing in there for you. Sanctuary gray pants, but I added a blue top. You shouldn't have to wear all dreary gray."
"Why is everything white in your room? Do they make you live like this?"
"No. This is how I choose to live. It keeps me … even."
Before I could parse the meaning in that, she led me into the bathroom, told me to lock the door, and left. I'd expected to find color here. Nope. This room was completely white, too. Floor to ceiling, every surface. Fiera either had zero imagination or she was brilliantly imaginative. I couldn't decide which.
A white toothbrush with white bristles rested on a stack of white towels. The toothpaste tube had been wrapped in white tape. I was betting the shower was white, too. No matter. I didn't care what color it was as long as it worked.
The water was clear, thank goodness. I kept the white vinyl curtain open so I could watch my things, and I didn't remove my bracelet while I showered. I didn't trust Fiera any more than I trusted Warden Harris.
I quickly soaped and shampooed and rinsed. The warm water might have felt nice if I'd taken time to soak it in, but I was too worried about being in a vulnerable situation to enjoy it. If I could enjoy it. My emotions were still unreliable. One minute I was filled with anger, and the next I was the emotional equivalent of a hand that had been slept on wrong all night.
I dried my body with a towel that smelled like bleach, then used it to squeeze the water out of my hair. There was no gel, no hair cream, not even oil available, so I braided my hair and secured it with two white elastic bands I found in the vanity. I brushed my teeth. Used the facilities. Tried to peer out the solitary tiny window, but it was positioned too high on the wall.
Reluctantly, I put on the sanctuary uniform. There was a lunch lady white bra, granny panties, gray socks, the blue cotton top, and drawstring gray prison trousers. They fit loosely and resembled hospital scrubs. I dumped my cat costume in the trash. I didn't need it. Unlike real black cats, it was bad luck.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Fiera was gone. Julio was seated on her white leather sofa with his hands between his knees. Warden Harris was in a white wingback chair across from him.
I drew power from the alpha shifter, intent on spiking them both dead, dead, dead. "Fancy seeing you two he—"
Hard hands gripped my shoulders and spun me around. Sampson Ibarra caught my gaze, his blue irises glowing nearly white. "Do not spike Julio Roso, Garrett Harris, or me."
The command drilled through my resistance. The trancer had found another way in.
"I hate you."
"It's mutual." He shoved me away from him. I turned and walked the rest of the way into the room, Sampson on my heels.
"Where's Fiera?" I demanded.
"We'll see her in a moment." The warden stood, swept a hand toward the sofa. "Please sit down."
I didn't see what good fighting him on this would do me, so I perched on the very end of the sofa. It was as far from Julio as I could get while still being on the same piece of furniture. Sampson took the chair beside Harris.
"What do you want, warden?"
"Same thing I've wanted all along. Your cooperation." He relaxed in the wingback chair, his elbows on the arms, fingers steepled in front of his face.
"Not that damn word again." I dropped my black sneakers on the floor and shoved my feet into them. "What's the big plan now? Gas me again? Parade more of your people in front of me so I can kill them, too? Because you and I both know the trancer's command can't last forever. Nothing lasts forever." I stared at Julio, who was obviously uncomfortable, which made me think that whatever the warden had planned for me, it wasn't something I would like.
The warden sighed. "I am not your jailer, Neely."
"Good to hear. Looks like this has all been a misunderstanding, so I'll just head home. I have a lot of cleaning to do. Plus, I need to order new windows. Mirrors. Picture frames. Drinking glasses…"
The warden made an annoyed sound. "Relax. This is your home now. You'll find that you can have a very nice life here."
"No. This is not my home, nor will I have a nice life here." I pointed to Fiera's door. "One look at the caged and abused shifters out there tells me that."
"Tell her." Sampson glanced at Warden Harris and raised an eyebrow. "Tell her the plan and let her deal with it. She's only going to kill more of your people if you spring it on her at the last moment."
"In good time."
The trancer tossed an annoyed look at Julio. "Actually, you should. You're the one who told us about her. Told us you were engaged, that she was in love with you, that she'd go along with things because you knew her so well." He pushed to his feet. "What was it you said, Roso? 'Neely is gentle and kind. She never uses her ability on anyone unless provoked, and even then, she hesitates. It won't be any problem at all to grab her.'"
If I'd been capable of feeling anything other than a buzzing annoyance at that moment I would have been devastated at his betrayal. Instead, I glanced at my ex and shook my head. "Asshole."
Sampson chuckled. "I can see she's under your spell, Roso."
Julio's shoulders bowed, his head lowered. "I didn't say grab, I said convince. I tried to convince you to come with me."
"With a tranquilizer dart?" I shook my head. "I knew you were weak, but this is next level cowardice. How are you even sitting upright? Don't you need a spine for that?"
Sampson laughed again.
"Neels, please, I have my reasons."
That name again. It was like nails on a chalkboard. "Do not call me that."
"You know I love you. I'd never intentionally hurt you."
Yes, he would. He was a Roso through and through, and I was a fool for not seeing it sooner. I pulled a little power from Sampson and Julio—not enough for them to notice, just enough for me to work with. Sampson had commanded me not to spike, but that didn't mean I couldn't prepare to spike. Because as soon as I was able, I was going to spike all three of them dead.
I scooted down the sofa and leaned into the personal space of my life's biggest regret. "If I hadn't already killed your brother, I'd call him up right now and thank him for making me see you for what you truly are before I made the mistake of marrying you." I exhaled in a loud sigh. "Of course, I'd have to kill him all over again for what he did to my uncle and my town, but you get my point."
"She's doing something. I feel it," Sampson said.
Damn. I needed better control. Good thing there were a lot of peasants around for this katana to practice on.
Using the power I'd already pulled, I poked around the edges of the trancer's command, plu
cked at the connections he'd made in my brain. They were strong, but with time I could break them.
"Don't fight me." Warden Harris gave me a stern look. "It would be a mistake, Neely. And I'll show you why."
The warden, Julio, Sampson, and I walked out of Fiera's apartment and down a short hallway to a heavy door. On the other side of the door an echoing stairwell led down a floor to yet another door. We must have been underground, since the building appeared to be a single-story structure from the outside, but it was difficult to be certain of anything in this windowless hell.
We spilled out into a waiting area of sorts. There was no vibrancy to the room, only ivory walls where insipid watercolors of the ocean hung too far apart. A lumpy blue sofa sat in the middle of the room, flanked by two chairs, and there was a larger sofa across from it that looked even less comfortable.
"Wait here." The warden disappeared through a door behind us.
Sampson scowled at me. "Sit."
"Why are you even still here? I'm imprisoned. Doesn't that mean you finished your job, poacher? Shouldn't you be out ruining other people's lives now?"
His jaw tightened. "I was asked to stay behind until you were … compliant."
"Hope you packed a lunch," I said, more out of habit than anything. I supposed this meant I was a natural smart ass. Lucas would love to hear me admit that.
Oof. The second I thought of him, my heart ached. I rubbed my thumb over the lock on my bracelet. Was he coming for me? He loved me. He'd said he did. I wanted to believe he'd find me, but it was harder and harder to hang on to hope.
My breath came in stunted gasps, and my head burned. I did my best to push Lucas's image out of my head and slow my respiration before Sampson or Julio noticed. The way I missed that man overrode all other feelings, and it was a distraction I couldn't afford in here. Not with the warden up to something.
I lowered myself into a chair with a stiff blue cushion and a hardwood frame, then draped my legs over one arm. That made the thing even more uncomfortable, so I sat up again. The clock on the wall ticked off the seconds. I used the sound as a focus, a way to slow my breathing and center myself. Five seconds in, five seconds out.
Across the room, an old-fashioned push-button wall phone rang. Sampson picked up the receiver. He spoke too softly for me to eavesdrop, so I rose to move closer. I was halfway out of my seat, when Julio approached me.
"You okay?" He dropped into the chair beside mine, so I sat back down.
"I'm being held prisoner in a sanctuary with my treacherous bastard of an ex-fiancé and about twenty or thirty people who would love nothing more than to see me dead. I've had better days, to be honest."
"You're not acting normal." Julio shook his head at me. "There's something wrong with your emotions."
"Ask him about it." I pointed at Sampson, who had just hung up the phone. "He's the one who keeps messing with my brain."
Sampson glared at me. "I told you, I didn't do this to you."
"That's funny, because I was fine until you showed up."
"Were you? How did you feel after you killed the alpha shifters in front of your bakery? The guards at the front gate? The guard in your room?" Sampson settled himself on the sofa across from me, let his fingers dangle between his knees.
"Empty." I sat forward, mimicking his body language. "People like that deserve to die. People like you deserve to die." I let a slow smile crawl over my lips. "If I could, I'd spike you both dead right now."
"That's not normal." Julio pointed to Sampson. "You released something evil in her."
"That would imply that I have the ability to conjure a demon and cast it into her. Do I look like a theurgist?" Sampson glared at Julio. "The only thing I can do is take control where she's conflicted. If she was resolute in not wanting to use her ability, I wouldn't have been able to coerce her."
"Are you saying she's inherently evil?"
"I'm saying she's like everyone else in the world. Some good, some bad. But right now, it's as if her id has steamrolled her ego and superego. She says she felt empty after spiking the shifters at her bakery. Well, I didn't use my ability on her until after they were already dead. Something might be making her emotionally numb, but it's not me."
I might not be able to read the trancer's mind, but I was almost positive he was telling the truth. He wasn't the one dulling my emotions.
If it wasn't Sampson, then who? Was I doing it to myself?
"Fix her, Ibarra."
"Can't fix something I didn't break, Roso."
"I'm still in the room, you know." My voice sounded flat and emotionless.
"Neely, Harris is not happy with you. If you don't stop attacking his people, he's going to kill you." Julio sprang to his feet and paced back and forth behind my chair.
I picked at a loose thread hanging from the hem of my blue top. "No, he's not."
He halted his pacing. "Why do you say that?"
"Because he has plans for me, and he's not going to let a few insignificant deaths ruin those plans."
"She's not wrong," Sampson said.
"No, she isn't." Warden Harris appeared in the doorway between the waiting area and some sort of medical clinic. "But Neely, if you continue killing my people, I'll need you to pitch in around here. We're becoming increasingly short-staffed." He chuckled and my upper lip curled.
Guess I wasn't completely without emotion after all. I could still be grossed out.
"Come with me." The warden gestured for me to follow.
I stayed seated in the uncomfortable chair. "First tell me what the plan is. The one Sampson brought up at Fiera's place."
The warden's gaze moved from me to Sampson, to Julio, and back to me. "I'd have thought you would have pulled it out of my brain by now. Sampson forbade you to spike. He said nothing about your telepathy."
I had read him for the information but didn't get much more than surface minutiae. Still, if he was talking about it, he was thinking about it, so I read him again.
Fear broke through my wall of apathy—a quick chill, cold fingers stroking down my spine. I knew what he wanted now. It wasn't a huge surprise, it was what everyone wanted from me, but it scared me all the same.
"You plan to turn me into a crossbreed."
I'd spent my life being terrified of becoming a spiker-shifter crossbreed. It was my worst fear, and Julio knew it better than most.
"We don't use that term here, though I have heard it." The warden gave me a fatherly sort of smile. "I dislike it because it's imprecise. It implies that you are half of one and half of the other combined, when in fact you are not half of either, spiker or shifter, but entirely both. And yet you're capable of being reduced to ashes and remade into a completely new genus of paranormal. It's fascinating."
"Yeah," I said. "It's a real treat. So, if you don't like the term 'crossbreed,' what do you use?"
His smile broadened. "Phoenix genus transmutation."
"Oh." I wrinkled my nose. "Would you consider Goddess of Fur and Spike instead?"
Chapter Nineteen
"Motivation."
The warden said this after a pause in response to the question I asked, which was, "The trancer's command won't last forever, so how do you propose to control me long enough to change me into a phoenix genus mutant—terrible name, by the way."
The four of us walked down a brightly lit corridor in single file—Warden Harris in the lead, Sampson behind me, Julio behind him.
I wondered why they were keeping Julio around. To help turn me into a crossbreed? Was that the warden's big plan?
"And it's not mutant, it's transmutation."
"Whatever." I stared at the warden's back, wishing I had one of Chandra's throwing knives. "What do you mean by 'motivation?'"
The warden gave me that creepy dad-smile again. "You'll see."
"Where are we going? Are you taking me to the dungeon? Is that where I turn to ashes and rise again?" I really hoped Fiera wasn't a part of this. The witch was literally capable of turnin
g me to ashes and, no matter what the warden thought, I was no phoenix.
"You're really caught up on that name, aren't you?" Harris grumbled. As he walked, his boots made squeaking noises on the waxed linoleum floor.
"I'm thinking you'd better hope housekeeping doesn't accidentally sweep me up and toss me in the trash or your plan is toast."
The warden grinned at me over his shoulder. "I'm not worried about you escaping."
God, his creepy smile bothered me. "You really shouldn't do that thing where you back me into a corner. It's not safe."
"Neely." Julio shook his head.
Sampson didn't appear to notice my threat. He seemed distracted.
We stopped at a heavy door and the warden used an actual key to open it. No keypad here. He led us into a short hall that broke off into four rooms. There were no doors to the rooms, only cased openings. Three were darkened and empty. A tiny brown face poked out of the fourth. A little girl, three or four years old.
They had children here?
"Monsters," I hissed.
"Yes," Warden Harris replied. "But only little ones."
There were three children in total. A boy and two girls. They all seemed healthy, well-fed, and cared for. The boy sat cross-legged on a twin bed in the farthest corner, reading a book. The little girl ran to him when we entered the room. He set his book aside and pulled her into his arms. The other girl, who appeared to be around eight or nine years old, was seated on another twin bed in the room with a magazine in her hands and a familiar person beside her.
"This is Milton, Leah, and Esther. Our smallest shifters." Warden Harris waved at the little girl, who ignored him and turned her face into her brother's chest. "And of course, you already know Fiera." The witch did not look up. She wrapped her arm around Leah's shoulders as the girl continued flipping through the magazine.
The warden lifted his chin and stared down his nose at the boy. "Bring Esther to me."
"She doesn't feel good," Milton said. He looked to be around twelve and had dark brown skin and sharp features—high sculpted cheekbones, a strong nose, firm mouth. He patted his sister's back.
