by Zandria West
As I sense it, Grayson shudders and grips me tighter and I feel a surge of heat inside me as he comes.
A moment later I begin to sense the cold of the stone behind me. The desire drains from my body and I’m left feeling weak, exhausted and stunned.
Fuck.
Okay. So I just had the fucking textbook definition of unsafe sex.
In a prison.
With a demon.
Without a condom.
Great work Lana.
But I know, somehow, it had to happen like that. Grayson was the missing piece in the Binding. Now that I’ve found him, something in me has shifted. The bond has been strengthened – not just with Grayson, who lets me gently down to stand on my own feet now and leans against me, sweating and breathing heavily – but with all of them.
I feel the man who is both my torturer and my saviour lean against me in the lamplight.
I reach up to run my fingers through his hair, down his neck, across his shoulders, enjoying the warm silk of his skin, the moment of unexpected intimacy, the depth of the bond that I feel with him already.
Then he chuckles, a low, gentle sound nothing like the cold laughter I heard earlier. Something in me lightens.
‘What is it?’ I say.
‘Alex will be pissed that I had you first,’ he murmurs in my ear.
I raise an eyebrow. I’m not going to argue the technicalities of what I may or may not have already done with Alex versus what I just did with him. There’s no point. And he’s probably right. Alex will be pissed. Then as I think of Alex, I feel a sick, sinking feeling in my stomach.
‘Alex has bigger things to worry about right now,’ I say. ‘Like whether we ever see each other again.’
‘What I said before was true, Lana. I don’t have a plan,’ Grayson says, his voice turning serious. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to protect you in here, but I don’t know how to get you out.’
‘There’s got to be a way out,’ I say, feeling more determined than I have since I first arrived. ‘We just have to figure out what it is…’
Finally, he leans in, shifts my hair off my forehead and places one single, gentle kiss. ‘Well, you’re not short on thinking time.’
Then he tucks himself in and re-buttons his pants. ‘I took a risk coming to you tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be able to do it again. If they caught me with you…’
I swallow, the reality of the situation sickening me. ‘I guess next time I see you will be back in the torture chamber then.’ I’m trying to be funny, to hide how much this hurts. It doesn’t sound funny at all when I say it.
‘Lana –’ he groans, the agony clear in his voice. Then he shakes his head and turns away, and without another word, picks up the lamp, lets himself out of my cell and locks the door behind himself.
I’m alone again in the dark.
4
REUBEN
I wedge my arm against the demon’s windpipe and increase the pressure until he can’t breathe. His eyes are wide and he’s scanning the alleyway like he’s expecting help might be coming. But I know this neighbourhood. I could be doing this in the middle of the road in full daylight, and nobody would step in and help. No-one around here gives a fuck. You’re weak; you die.
With my free arm, I draw the knife from the belt at his waist. I miss my blades. His knife is a piece of shit, not like anything I’d carry, but it will serve the purpose.
‘Tell me where she is,’ I growl through gritted teeth.
It’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to kill the demon on the spot. Just knowing he’s a guard who works at the prison where Lana is currently being held is reason enough. And after a night in wolf-form, and a day alone without Lana while the bond is screaming at me to protect her, I don’t have a lot of self-control left.
‘I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…’
I narrow my eyes and see the panic set into his.
I talk slowly and clearly. ‘A girl. Human. Blue hair. Pretty fucking hard to miss in a demon prison, I’d have thought.’
He tries to nod and I let a little pressure off his throat so he can talk more easily. I angle the knife so the point is nicking the edge of his jaw, just in case he gets any stupid ideas about me going easy on him.
‘A girl, yes, I saw a girl, she’s there, in J-wing, solitary, getting a lot of attentions from the Higher Ups.’
‘What sort of attention?’ I ask, fear tightening my chest.
The demon grins. ‘What sort do you think?’
His words are like a bullet.
No. I can’t think of Lana like that, helpless, tortured, imprisoned, at the mercy of such petty, cruel, sick creatures as the one before me on the ground.
‘They let the Angel loose on her,’ he adds, licking his lips. He’s fucking repulsive.
‘The Angel? Who’s that?’ Even as I say it, I feel the question beginning to form in my mind.
It couldn’t be. It’s not possible.
‘That’s what they call the Chief Torturer on account of him being so good at his job.’
I feel sick. In an instant, I jam the blade into the side of the demon’s neck and jerk it across his throat like I’m gutting a deer. Blood pours out. He looks up at me shocked. He didn’t think I’d actually kill him. I pull the knife out, get up and kick his body away. He’s not quite dead yet. He scrabbles at his throat for a few seconds, but the blood is sheeting like a fucking waterfall. He bleeds out within a minute.
Okay, so I shouldn’t have killed him. That was a mistake. I got carried away. He might have had more useful information. But honestly, I just couldn’t stand to look at his face for another second. I wipe my hands on my “borrowed” clothes, lick the blood from his knife and stow it in my belt. The sounds from the bar are filtering around the corner into the alleyway: off-key singing, raucous laughter, swearing, and the occasional crash of something heavy being dropped – or more likely thrown.
I took a risk going to the Blazing Brand, the main drinking spot for guards that work at the nearby prison, but it paid off. I have information. I don’t like it, but I have it.
And I have more than that, I realise, as I look back to the man bleeding out on the ground.
I turn back and as quickly as I can, given he’s now a dead weight, strip him of the uniform – the grey tunic and pants, the heavy boots. All marked with the insignia of the demon guard. They’ll need a bit of a wash before I can even think about wearing them. I don’t know how I’d ever pass as a guard, I’m not the type they usually go for. Regular demons don’t tend to trust Shifters. But still, if it’s even a possibility that his gear might help me get in and find Lana, I’ll take it.
I swap my boots for his, roll the bloody clothes up in a ball and tuck them under my arm, then walk back down the alleyway. I need to find somewhere to stay for the night. I need to clean myself up and get some rest. I need something to eat. And then, I need to come up with a plan.
The moon is just off full now, but big and bright enough that I still feel its pull in my blood and bones. I’m half-wolf, and feral with fury.
I’m going to get Lana back if it’s the last fucking thing I do.
I think about what the guard said just before I killed him. They let the Angel loose on her. I shake my head. It can’t mean what I think it means. It’s probably just some sick nickname that they give to one of the demons who’s particularly heinous. Just a coincidence that it was also our nickname for Grayson. How long is it since we heard from him?
I never understood the man. I could never guess what he’d do next. I didn’t trust him the way Gabriel seemed to, but I respected him. He was one tough motherfucker. I wouldn’t have thought in a million years that he’d cross over and work in the prison as a torturer for the fucking Demon Council, not after everything we’d been through together.
So why can’t I get rid of that niggling feeling that he is exactly who the demon was talking about then?
And if I’m right, what does it
mean for Lana?
I check into a run-down guest house on the edge of the industrial zone. The woman at the desk doesn’t ask any questions, even when it turns out that the notes I give her as payment, which I found in the pocket of the dead demon’s pants, are sticky with blood.
She shows me to a small room out the back, next to the toilet. The smell isn’t great. The bed is narrow and sagging. The paint is peeling off the walls. She leaves me there and I close the door and wedge a chair under it to make it harder to open. It’s far from secure, but at least it would wake me if someone tried to get in during the night. I pull my shoes off and sit on the bed and rub my feet for a moment. They’re bruised and blistered from the night’s running, but the pain doesn’t bother me too much. I’m too wrecked to worry about something as small as blisters.
Lana is gone.
Captured by fucking demons. Held in prison. Tortured.
I shiver and see nothing but white light for a moment, as though my incandescent rage is being projected onto the inside of my eyeballs.
I want to do something now. Every cell in my body is demanding that I go to her. I’d burn down the whole fucking city and everyone in it if it would help her.
I’ll be no use to Lana if I don’t sleep. I can feel my thoughts becoming wilder and more erratic while at the same time my body is becoming heavier and clumsier. I’m too angry. Whatever I do next, I’ll need to be sharp and fast and clear when I do it.
I lay down on the bed and look up at the ceiling. I close my eyes but all I see is Lana. In every variation of terror and pain. I open my eyes, ball my hands into fists and grit my teeth so hard that my jaw aches. There must be something I can do.
At least, if the demon I killed was telling me the truth, I know where she’s being held. I’ll go to her. It probably won’t help, but I’ll have no choice. The binding and my conscience will give me no peace until I do. Lana was captured trying to protect my daughter. She put herself in danger for Briony’s sake. For my sake. And my own fucking pack betrayed her.
I close my eyes again. Rage simmers in my chest and throat. Then, the strangest thing happens: a sudden pulse of energy moves through me, the way still water ripples from a distant explosion. The movement is tiny but real. For a moment I feel lighter, easier. Lana is close. I can sense her. I almost feel as though, if I reached out, I could touch her. The bond sings like a plucked string and I recognise the note it makes. And then darkness rushes in to fill the space in my heart.
It’s Grayson. He’s with her. The Angel.
5
LANA
When I wake the next morning, I wonder if it was all a dream. As I stir, though, the tenderness in my hips and the bruises on my arms and back give me the answer.
I remember the awesome power that moved through me when Grayson was inside me. And then, he left. Without a plan. Without giving me any hope of getting out of here.
I close my eyes again.
All he can do is shield me from the pain he himself is forced to inflict.
I’ve been frightened, angry and damaged since I’ve been taken prisoner. But this is the first time I’ve felt truly hopeless. The rush of energy I had when Grayson and I were together is gone. The whole world seems grey and empty. It’s like the fuel that kept me able to move and think and plan has run out. I touch the amulet around my neck – I’m surprised they haven’t taken it from me, especially after the fuss that Darian made about it, but they haven’t. It feels cool and dull.
Protection.
I want to laugh. That worked out well, didn’t it Dad?
I’m sure this isn’t what he imagined when he gave it to me.
I drift back into a listless, uncomfortable, exhausting sleep, then wake to the sound of boots in the corridor. Again. I slide myself up, sitting with back up against the far wall and wait. They stop before they get to my cell.
I hear a door open nearby and gruff voices. Lawrence. The werewolf kid. That’s who they’re talking to, though I can’t make out what they’re saying. The thought that they might torture him like they did me makes me feel sick, but there’s nothing I can do.
I’m taken by surprise when my door opens too. I squint against the sudden light.
‘Get up, come on. Before he changes his mind.’
I stand tentatively, willing my legs not to give way under me. I walk shakily through the doorway and into the hall, my heart racing as I try to figure out what’s going on. The kid is there too, looking scruffy and lost and blinking lots. I want to give him a hug, he’s too young to be here all alone, but I’m pretty sure hugs aren’t allowed. I don’t want to get us both whipped.
‘Well come on, don’t stand around all day,’ the demon says gruffly. There’s something different about this one. I study him where he stands, just ahead of us, looking impatient and irritated, and a moment later I realise what it is. The guard isn’t a he, it’s a she.
I risk a quick glance at Lawrence who raises his eyebrows at me, as if to say that he has no idea what’s going on either, then we follow the woman down the long corridor.
Please don’t let it be the torture room today, I pray.
I couldn’t bear to have to face Grayson there again so soon. It would break me.
To my relief, we turn down a different corridor, and then climb up a flight of stairs. I hold onto the railing to help my wobbly legs. I want to ask where she’s taking us, but I don’t. No questions. No eye contact. Those things only lead to trouble in here.
Finally, she opens another door and steps back, directing us through.
I enter warily, wondering what horror will be waiting for us this time, then blink in surprise.
It’s a bathroom.
‘You’ve got ten minutes,’ she calls. ‘I’ll be on the door.’
We look around. I wonder if I look as wide-eyed as Lawrence does beside me. There are two small tubs with a curtain that pulls between them.
‘Which one do you want?’ I ask and Lawrence moves to the furthest away one. He gives me a quick grin before pulling the curtain across. A moment later I hear the sound of running water.
Running water! Oh thank god. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as utterly filthy as I do at this moment.
I move to the closer tub. The tap is tight, but I manage to budge it, and am rewarded with a rush of water. Cool, clear, actual water, not surprise-blood or a stream of tiny snakes like I thought it might be.
I don’t wait for it to fill, but step into the tub and squat down and begin washing myself.
Okay so the water stays clear for about three seconds before it’s almost black as the muck that comes off my feet and legs. I pull the plug and let the dirty water out and put the plug in again and let the tub fill. I clean myself as quickly and thoroughly as I can, removing all the sticky evidence of last night’s activities with Grayson. The cold isn’t unpleasant, it’s bracing. I splash my face with water straight from the tap, rubbing my eyes and then ducking my hair under and trying to run my fingers through it. My hair is knotty and wild and there’s only so much I can do without a hairbrush, some industrial strength detangling spray, or a pair of clippers.
‘Times almost up,’ the demon calls.
I have no idea what we did to earn this, or if or when it will ever happen again, so I’m determined to make the most of it. I clean my ears, scrub around my neck, wash my arms and chest.
I feel clean. I’d forgotten how wonderful it was to simply feel clean.
‘Alright kids, out now,’ she says.
I clamber out, dripping and shivering.
To my surprise, there’s even a towel of sorts hanging on a hook nearby. It’s rough as sandpaper and grey and threadbare, but clean. I grab it and dry myself quickly.
‘Clothes are on the chest out here.’
I walk out quickly, not giving myself time to feel self-conscious about the fact that I’m naked. Hell, I was naked and tortured in front of a whole horde of watching demons. I shouldn’t be bothered by one matronly female guar
d and a werewolf kid who is without a doubt quite used to naked people. I remember my shock when I was first introduced to the Grey Pack running in the buff. It feels like a million years ago. I pull on the clothes the guard indicates. They’re grey and threadbare, like the towel. They don’t smell good, but they don’t smell bad either and that in itself is a massive improvement. They’re too big. The pants hang down despite the cord I pulled tight around them, and the top hangs off me so I’m just about drowning in it. But I’m clean, and right now that’s all that matters.
‘Alright, let’s go.’
I look across to Lawrence, whose clothes swamp him completely. He gives me a quick, bright smile. His hair sticks up adorably from the wash. For a second, I think how much his mother must be missing him, how crazy she must be going knowing that he’s here. I give him what I hope is a reassuring grin then turn and follow the guard back out.
The woman doesn’t speak as she leads us up a narrow staircase, through a door and into a different section of the prison. I can’t hear the cells from here: all the usual awful background noise is gone. The walls have been painted and up ahead I see a big glass window that lets in sunlight and offers an admittedly uninspiring view of the outside world. Sunlight... For a moment I can’t breathe. There’s no opportunity to enjoy the view though, because a minute later we come to a halt outside a large door. The guard knocks and we wait. I hear movement from the other side. A shiver of apprehension runs through me.
Finally, the door opens. It’s the demon from my last interrogation – Darian. His rimless glasses have slipped down his nose and he has a book in hand, like we’ve just disturbed his reading time.
