by Zandria West
‘Fetch the new prisoner for questioning,’ I say, keeping my eyes low. It’s a hangover from life with the Pack. Know your place. Don’t meet the gaze of those who are stronger than you. Submit, or else.
It probably works like that here, too.
Again?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t ask questions,’ I say, trying to sound disinterested.
The guard grunts again and begins to fumble with the lock. I wait, restless energy filling me. It’s all I can do to stop from jogging on the spot just to try to burn it off. The door swings open. I’m so close now, so close to seeing Lana.
The guard tosses me a ring of keys. ‘You know which cell?’ he asks.
I try another shrug-and-grunt.
‘Third on the right.’
I walk down the long, dark corridor, standing up straighter, trying to prepare myself.
Lana won’t recognise me, I remind myself. I look like I’ve just crawled up from the very mouth of hell. Feel like it too. It’s hard to describe the sense Gabriel’s magic has given me, as though my very essence is being stretched and bent. It’s weird as hell and I don’t like it one bit. I’m wearing the body of a demon and dressed in a guard’s uniform. Lana will look at me and see the enemy. How to get her to trust me? And what to do with her once I’ve found her?
If we’re going to make it out of here, I need to think ten steps ahead, and I can barely see one.
I reach the third door on the right and find the key, fit it into the lock and turn. For a moment it seems to stick. The door is heavy and old. Finally, it swings open with an exaggerated groan. A gust of stale air rushes out, carrying the acrid scent of piss and shit and fear. It turns my stomach.
I step inside. ‘Lana?’ I call, my voice low, my eyes straining in the darkness.
I see a small figure curled on the floor on the opposite side of the cell. There’s no mattress, no blankets. Just hard, cold stone. My heart races. I want to go to her, to hold her, to comfort her, but I don’t want to raise any suspicions. Why is it taking her so long to respond? Is she hurt? Unconscious?
‘Come on, move,’ I say a little louder, not wanting to frighten her, but aware that my words might be heard by the guard on the door.
Finally, the shape shifts, then sits up.
That’s when I begin to feel afraid. Something’s wrong. I don’t sense the Binding at all. And as I see the figure kneel then shakily stand, I realise why. They’re lightly built, with short, wild hair, scrawny limbs and a narrow, child’s face.
It’s not Lana.
It’s – the cub, Lawrence, the first young one who was taken from the Grey Pack.
‘Fuck...’ I breathe. I’d forgotten about him. How could I have forgotten about him? An innocent child held in a place like this – his capture is as much an injustice as Lana’s, more so even.
I have to get him out.
No, that wasn’t the plan. Getting one prisoner out will be hard enough, two is surely impossible.
He looks up at me with a mixture of fear and bravado that tears at my heart. He’s Grey Pack. My Pack. My blood.
I have to get him out.
I clear my throat. ‘Boss wants to speak to you,’ I say roughly, for the benefit of anyone outside the cell who might be listening. ‘Move it, kid. He don’t like waiting.’
Then, as the boy comes closer, I take a step further into the darkness of the cell, crouch and whisper. ‘I’m here to help you. I know I don’t look like a friend, but you need to trust me. Where’s Lana?’
I make him out clearly in the fall of light from the corridor. He’s trying to look brave but nothing can hide how red and swollen his eyes are. He looks like he’s been crying for days.
‘Lana?’ he says, looking at me in confusion. ‘Lana’s gone.’
The words are like a sledgehammer to my heart. ‘Gone where?’
‘I don’t know. They took her, and they never brought her back.’
I stand, clenching my fists. I feel a desperate urge to howl, to tear something apart. I can’t be too late. I can’t be. I must find Lana. I have to save her. I’m so close now…
I make the decision quickly.
‘Stand up. I’m getting you out of here.’
Lawrence looks at me cautiously, as though he’s not sure that this isn’t all a trick of some kind. Which is no surprise given what he’s probably been through since he’s been imprisoned here. He needs something, some sign to reassure him he can trust me, despite my ugly-as-sin face.
I keep my voice low. ‘You remember Gabriel, the warlock who visited to speak with Paul, asking the help of the Grey Pack?’ I murmur. ‘He used magic to change my appearance. I know I don’t look like it, but I am Reuben Greyfall. I’m a werewolf just like you. I’m here to help rescue you and Lana.’
‘You’re… a wolf?’ he whispers, his eyes growing wider, if that’s even possible.
I nod and place a finger to my lips.
Well that’s fucking done it. I’ve lost Lana, given myself the doubly impossible task of smuggling not one but two prisoners out if I ever manage to find her, and blown my cover, all in one go.
Everything’s fine.
‘Lana has a friend here,’ Lawrence whispers. ‘He scares me, but I think he wants to help her. They call him the Angel.’
I feel a shiver move through me. Grayson. I nod.
‘Let’s go find him then, shall we?’ I indicate for Lawrence to walk ahead of me. ‘Do me a favour now,’ I whisper. ‘Act scared.’
The boy gives me a weak smile. ‘I won’t really have to act.’
12
REUBEN
I shudder as Lawrence steps out into the light of the corridor. He’s skinny as a twig under too-big clothing. His skin is pale as milk, except where bruises shadow one side of his face. I try to work out how long it’s been since everything went wrong – how many days have he and Lana been held here for?
It must be less than a week since the Demon Council’s raid on the Grey Pack. It feels like a lifetime.
‘Move,’ I bark harshly, and prod the kid as gently as I dare. I don’t want to hurt him, but I have to keep the impression up. He begins to walk. I’m worried that he’s going to pass out on me. Every few steps he reaches out a hand to touch the wall for support. A proper demon would probably get the whip out about now, but I just want to weep.
He’s nothing but a cub. He should be running in the forest, learning to hunt, watching the faces of his friends by the flickering of firelight at night, sleeping under the stars.
I grit my teeth as we approach the main door that separates J Wing from the rest of the prison. I bang a couple of times on the metal and wait for the demon on the other side to open up. I hold my breath. There’s a long pause, but finally the door shifts and swings wide.
‘Through,’ I say, prodding Lawrence once more. I barely touch him, but he stumbles and falls. He must be weak from lack of food and water. I resist the urge to help him up. The guard gives a jeering laugh, then takes a swing and kicks him in the side. I hear a thud as a heavy boot connects with flesh and the boy cries out in pain. My anger flares.
‘I need him to be able to walk,’ I growl.
‘He’s a mangy fucking dog,’ the demon says, turning his yellow eyes on me. ‘I like to see dogs beg.’
Every inch of me bristles. The hatred of demons for shifters is something my kind have to live with. You harden yourself to it over time, there’s no other choice. But to see a huge, armed demon kick a helpless werewolf child…
I’ll kill this bastard. I’ll fucking kill him.
I turn to the boy. ‘Get up,’ I say, my voice hard with fury.
Lawrence is shaking as he pushes himself back up. He bites his lip, and doesn’t make any more sounds, but I can tell how much pain he’s in. A kick like that would have broken a few ribs. There’s nothing we can do about it now.
‘Move,’ I bark. He starts to shuffle gingerly down the corridor.
‘Where’d you say you were taking h
im again?’ I freeze at the sound of the demon’s voice just behind me.
‘I didn’t.’
I turn and meet his gaze and this time I don’t look away. For a moment, I think he’s going to challenge me. My mind is racing, trying to figure out what I can say that will sound plausible, that will convince him to just let us go without any further trouble.
The silence extends for too long. I tense, ready to launch myself at him. He’s armed but I’m desperate. I could kill him and take his keys and lock his body in one of the cells. That seems like a pretty good idea about now.
I’m just about to lunge when the demon sneers: ‘I always knew you liked them young and unwilling.’ He shakes his head and laughs, a foul sound that turns my stomach. ‘Go on,’ he finally offers, ‘have your fun. You get fleas from this one, it’s on you.’
I swallow rising bile, suddenly glad than I took a blade to that demon’s windpipe last night. I force myself to smile, ‘I owe you one,’ I say, then shove Lawrence forward down the corridor. I don’t turn back. I feel the demon watching us. He doesn’t say anything, just lets us go.
I wait until we’re far enough away from the guard and turn down an empty corridor. The whole prison feels eerily quiet, almost deserted.
‘Where is everyone?’ I ask, following Lawrence into an empty cell and closing the door so it’s only open a crack. We both need a moment to recover ourselves.
Lawrence leans back against a wall. He looks like he’s only just managing not to collapse. ‘I heard the guards talking yesterday. The Council has sent most of them away to fight. Some of the prisoners too, the really bad ones. They’re getting ready for the Barrier to fall…’
I close my eyes. If the Barrier falls, thousands upon thousands of innocent people will die. War will be unavoidable. We have so little time. We can’t afford to fail.
On the plus side, the fact that there are fewer demons guarding the prison gives me a sliver of hope.
I need to find Grayson.
I reach for the binding, seeking the strange thrum of connection that I feel most intensely with Lana, but to some extent with the others now too.
Grayson, where are you?
The transformation into demon form is dulling my senses. Everything feels muddy and confused. My whole plan was based on finding Lana where the demon said she was, and then being able to use the connection of the binding to locate Grayson. So much for the plan. What the hell do I do next?
‘I can show you where they took Lana, if you want,’ Lawrence says, breaking through my thoughts. His voice is tentative, like he’s scared of saying the wrong thing.
‘You can?’
‘I was with her,’ he says. ‘They sent me back and they kept her.’
‘Alright. Let’s go.’
Wolves are renowned for their sense of direction, though usually they’re at their best in the forest, where scents are layered on leaves, dirt, and the shifting breeze, and there are always tracks to follow. A labyrinth of cold stone is not optimal wolf territory, but Lawrence sets off confidently, despite the fact that he’s surrounded by enemies, and is limping and obviously injured.
Brave kid. I follow.
We take a series of turns, climb a few flights of stairs, pass bare walls of stone and open doorways to empty cells. It’s so damn quiet here. The whole place has emptied out. I shiver. The assault they’re planning must be massive.
‘Not far now,’ Lawrence says, using a hand against the wall to help himself climb. ‘It’s just down here I think, the room we were taken to.’
This section of the prison feels different – there are windows that allow light in from outside, the stone is smoother and drier, the smell of damp and decay has faded. You wouldn’t call it pleasant in a million years, but it’s less oppressive than the rest of the prison.
Lawrence slows and then stops. ‘That’s the door,’ he says, turning to look at me. ‘It’s the quarters for some important Council guy.’
‘Stay back.’ I take a step towards the door and then another. I see from the corner of my eye Lawrence flattening himself in the shadows against the wall, like if he stands still enough, he could disappear. I put my fingers on the door handle. I think I hear voices inside talking low. I begin to turn the handle and then --- WHUMP
A second later my face is pressed up to the cold stone wall, my arms pinned behind my back. I’m unable to see or smell or taste anything except dust and stone.
‘What are you doing?’ The voice in my ear is cold and terrifying. And I know it. I know it so well.
‘Looking for Lana.’ I stop struggling, and the moment that I feel his grip on my arms loosen, I step my feet wide, then twist and jerk backwards, throwing him off me. I spin around and kick, taking his legs out from under him. He got lucky; I was aiming higher. An oath bursts from his lips as he crashes to the stone.
If I had my knife –
I step back and take a few sharp breaths. I have to control myself. I can’t destroy what might be our only way out. I need him. Lana needs him.
‘Is she here?’ I say. ‘Is she alive?’
I look down at where Grayson is sprawled on the floor. His head is shaved to the bone, his eyes have that slightly vacant, cold look that always creeped me out, like he’s looking back at you through a thick layer of ice. He looks older and harder; he has more scars.
He nods, then in a quick movement rises to standing and gestures the direction that we should walk in. I follow, keeping silent. Lawrence walks ahead of me and behind Grayson, so if anyone were to see us without thinking too hard about it it would just look like we were moving a prisoner.
Eventually, when we’re far enough away from the doorway, he stops.
It’s only then that it occurs to me that Grayson knows who I am, even in this strange demon’s body. He never hesitated, never had to ask. The transformation didn’t confuse him, even for a second.
‘It’s good to see you,’ he says roughly, then looks at me and shakes his head. ‘Fuck, you look terrible though.’
‘You’re no fucking spring daisy yourself,’ I say. ‘Where is she?’
He gives me a long stare. ‘I’ve done what I can to protect her.’
‘Did you even try to get her out?’
For the first time, I see a crack in the icy exterior. A sudden, burning look of pain, too naked for me to bear; it’s there and then it’s gone.
‘How would I do that? Tell me how, brother? How do I get anyone out of a prison like this, when I’m a prisoner here myself?’
I narrow my eyes. I don’t have time for his goddamned excuses. ‘Where is she?’ I ask again.
He looks away. I see jagged scars down the side of his face. They look new. I wonder whether someone clawed at him – maybe someone he was torturing. Though surely they’d be restrained, helpless, unable to move... I have a vision of Lana tied down on the torture table and I feel a growl rising in my throat. My hands form steel-hard fists. I want to kill him.
‘The Tower,’ he says finally, his voice heavy with defeat. ‘She’s in the Tower.’
‘But that’s –’
‘Where they take prisoners awaiting execution, yes.’
‘We have to get her out,’ I say.
‘I’m glad you’ve come so full of determination, but do you have any actual ideas, brother? A plan of some kind?’
I look at him. He might fool himself, but he doesn’t fool me. I know who he is. I know what he can do. ‘There’s more than one way out of the Tower.’ I say it slowly and deliberately.
He shakes his head. ‘There’s one entry, heavily guarded at all times. One set of narrow spiral stairs, winding up more than a hundred feet. A holding-cell with one door that they throw the bodies out of…’
‘We both know there’s another way out, if you choose to take it.’
He flinches. ‘I can’t.’
‘Do you know what she is, Grayson? She is the Key. She carries the magic to remake the Barrier. Without her, war is coming that nobody wil
l be able to stop. Nobody. We must protect her.’
‘The God of Light does not permit –’
‘Fuck the God of Light,’ I say, leaning in close, hoping that he can feel the rage shimmering off me. ‘Fuck all of them.’
‘My only path to redemption is obedience,’ he says, eyes downcast. The words sound well-worn, like he’s said them to himself a hundred-hundred-hundred times before. They also sound empty.
I laugh and shake my head. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
He frowns but meets my gaze. ‘My term is almost served, Reuben. I’ve done exactly what he asked for centuries, you know I have. I just want to go home…’
‘You want to go home?’ I say. ‘Don’t you understand, Grayson? There is no home for us. Not for me. Not for you. Not after the things we’ve done.’
I hear a noise in the distance, a low throbbing like an earthquake and a sensation of movement, like the foundations of the building are shifting.
‘Um, Reuben…?’ Lawrence says in a very small voice. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
‘What was that?’ I say.
‘Magic, I can smell it,’ Grayson frowns.
‘Gabriel’s?’ I ask, hoping for a moment that this is some new step in a plan that he only just came up with. Gabriel’s magic will get us out of here.
Grayson shakes his head. ‘The witch.’
A sudden tingling apprehension fills my hands and feet, shivers through my chest. ‘What witch?’
‘Garenda. She was helping to interrogate Lana.’
I shudder at my memories of her as I try to understand what this means. ‘But that’s against Council Regulations, isn’t it? They hate witches.’
Grayson’s laugh is cold and empty. ‘Your point being?’
‘Garenda tried to kill us. She would have killed us, if Gabriel hadn’t stopped her. She’s powerful and dangerous. She hates Lana.’
We look at one other and I feel the spark of understanding pass between us in an instant.
Lana is alone and unprotected in the tower. Garenda is loose, and her magic is shaking the prison’s foundations. This is bad.
‘I can’t save her,’ I say, holding Grayson’s gaze. ‘I would do anything to save her, but I can’t. You can. I know the cost, but you’re the only one who can do it. Please. Get her out of there.’
