Spy Glass

12

“TRANSFER PAPERS?” THE BORED RECEPTIONIST ASKED.

I stood between my escorts. They had manacled my wrists behind my back before we arrived at Fulgor’s security HQ. Valek’s people had forged the paperwork and I hoped no one would discover the fakes.

“Collin,” the receptionist called over his shoulder. “Take her down to cell five.”

A Fulgor guard arrived and one of my escorts removed my manacles.

“She’s all yours,” he said as they left.

I bit my lip and rubbed my wrists, waiting.

“Come on,” Collin said. He swept his arm out, indicating I should go first.

I glanced at his weapon belt, spotting a pair of manacles.

He chuckled. “I don’t think we need them. You’re not going to cause trouble, are you?”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me to the prison cells below HQ.

Unfortunately, I’d been here before. I would count the number of different cells I’d been in over the last year, but didn’t want to start… What? Crying? Or laughing hysterically? Both seemed possible at this moment. I swallowed the knot of emotion.

I spent the night in cell number five. When my prison escorts arrived the next morning, my disguise and training were put to the ultimate test. I tucked a strand of my dirty blond hair behind my ear. No hair ties were allowed and with the chin-length style, my hair tended to fall into my face which itched from the putty. I now had full cheeks and a pudgy nose compliments of Valek.

“Another killer?” Nic asked Eve.

They stood on the other side of the bars. Eve consulted a clipboard. “Yep. Killed her husband in a fit of jealous rage.”

“Really?” He peered at me in confusion. “She doesn’t look the type.”

“I’m not. It was a horrible accident,” I said, pitching my voice a little higher than normal. “I’m innocent.”

Nic glanced at Eve.

“He fell on her knife fourteen times. A real klutz,” she said.

He snorted. “What is it about the cold season? We get twice the number of murders during those two months.” He shook his head and unlocked the door. “Stand back.”

I moved away and he entered, grabbing the manacles from his belt. A powerful and dizzying sense of déjà vu hit me and I swayed.

“Easy there,” he said, touching my arm to steady me.

I blinked. Just when I thought I understood him, Nic was being…nice? Unexpected.

He manacled my hands behind me and guided me from the cell, resting his hand on my back. I guessed it was safer to have a prisoner in front where you could see them.

As we walked through Fulgor’s streets, fear simmered. To distract myself from my impending ordeal, I said, “I can tell you why there are more murders during the cold season.”

“Is this a confession?” Nic asked.

“No.” One thing Valek had stressed—criminals always pro-claimed their innocence.

“The cold’s the reason,” Eve said. “Her husband warmed himself in another woman’s bed.”

“Not quite,” I said.

“Oh?” Eve asked.

“He was in our bed when he had his…mishap.”

“That is cold,” Nic said.

“But that’s not the reason you have more murders,” I said.

“Do tell,” Nic said. His voice was edged with sarcasm.

I ignored his tone. “Sunlight. Or rather the lack of sunlight. It turns everything gray. It’s depressing and makes you crazy. You’ll do anything for a bit of color.” I had remembered Kade commenting on this phenomenon.

“I don’t think bright red blood is a nice change of pace, but then again my partner insists I’m color-blind,” Nic said. “You are color-blind. No one but you would ever match lime-green pants with an orange shirt,” Eve quipped.

We remained silent until we reached the outer gates of Wirral. Even though I had been there before, the prison’s presence hit me like a physical blow to my guts. I blanched and skidded to a stop.

“I hope you’re not one of those people who go crazy with a lack of sunlight,” Nic said. “Because there’s no sunlight in there.” He studied me.

No need to act, I let my fear show. “He killed himself,” I whispered.

Eve raised an eyebrow. “Fourteen times?”

“He had bad aim.”

Nic laughed. “First time I’ve heard that one!” He tugged me into motion.

As we drew closer, I asked Nic, “Is everyone in there for life?”

“No. But some are serving life on the installment plan.” He noticed my confusion. “They keep getting into trouble and coming back.”

The officers at the gate scanned the papers Eve handed them. One of them scrawled a signature and I was officially delivered to Wirral.

“Good luck, Rhea. I hope you survive,” Nic said as a female CO led me inside.

I thought I was scared before, but entering the prison created a whole new level of panic and fear. It had been easy to plan this when I was comfortable and free. Valek had been right, actual experience was another story entirely.

Taken to a bare room, the CO unlocked the manacles and ordered me to strip. She stayed and watched. Her face remained impassive as I removed the jumper.

“Undergarments, too,” she ordered.

I added them to the pile. She kicked them aside. “Turn around, lean on the wall with your hands on the blue prints and your feet on the yellow prints on the floor. That position is called Secured. Remember it. The guards will frequently order you to assume it.”

The blue prints were above my head and the yellow foot-shaped ones were spread far apart. When I did as instructed, I felt more vulnerable and helpless than when Devlen had chained me up. At least then, I had clothes on. And I would rather endure the pain of a pressure point than be strip-searched ever again. The woman’s rough hands left no part of my body untouched. Her fingers found holes and creases I didn’t even know I had, and thoroughly explored the ones I was well aware of until they ached.

A knock stopped the search. Thank fate.

“Don’t move,” she ordered.

Voices and a bang. Then another set of hands was on me, rougher than the first. Alarmed, I looked over my shoulder and protested. “She already—”

“Shut up and listen.” Her fingers dug into my skin. “We’re in charge. You have no rights. You gave all that up when you murdered your husband. So if we want to recheck a search, you’ll stand there until we’re satisfied. Even if it takes us twenty times.”

I bit my lip as I was searched again. When she finished, she tossed a gray prison jumper at me. “Get dressed.”

All my own clothes were gone. My lock picks and few other tools hidden inside the fabric gone with them. She hadn’t given me undergarments and I was smart enough not to ask.

When I finished, she studied me. Her light brown hair had been twisted back into a knot. She had dark brown eyes and a lean build.

“I’m Lieutenant Cicek. You’ve been assigned to my block. This means I decide everything for you. When you eat, when you sleep, when you work and when you get fresh air. Keep me happy and you’ll do well. Cause trouble and you’ll end up in the SMU with Lieutenant Finn. I’m an indulgent mother compared to him.”

The LT led me through a maze of doors and lantern-lit corridors until we reached a set of metal doors. She unlocked them with a flourish and revealed a long block of cells. “Welcome to the Black Widows’ Wing. Your home for the rest of your life.” Nodding to the correctional officer who sat at a utilitarian metal desk, Cicek pulled me along.

The dank smell of body odor and fear hung in the air and clung to me as I followed the LT down the row. The other prisoners watched me through their bars but didn’t make a sound.

“We like it quiet in here,” the LT explained. “Outside this wing you can scream all you want, but if you want the privilege of fresh air, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

She stopped and opened the fourth cell on the right. Pushing me inside, she slammed the door. After the metallic echoes died, the silence rushed in.

I needed to endure the rest of the day to orient myself and plan. Valek and I had chosen my crime with care. Murderers were housed in two adjacent wings—one for men, the other for women—and one floor above the SMU. However, with all the turns and stairs to arrive at my cell, I needed to be certain they hadn’t changed the location. And I needed to make sure the COs’ shifts remained the same. Hopefully, the LT would leave tonight. Cicek appeared way too competent for my comfort.

Lunch was the first time I was allowed to leave my cell. LT Cicek and two other COs escorted all of us—a dozen Black Widows—to the dining hall. The place reeked with an unidentifiable stench that overpowered my senses and made me gag. I forced myself to eat to keep up my strength.

After the meal, we were marched down four flights of stairs to the exercise yard. I scanned the square space. It was nestled in the center of the prison. Almost sheer walls surrounded it. High above, a patch of blue sky let dim sunlight reflect down, casting shadows on what appeared to be a training course with obstacles, weights, a running track and an open area.

As my fellow Black Widows hurried to meet up with friends, Cicek pointed out the armed COs standing up on the third floor balconies. “They have crossbows and tend to shoot first and don’t bother to ask questions.”

I noticed COs stationed in the yard didn’t have any weapons. And now that I thought about it, the LT was unarmed, as well. I asked her why.

Her face hardened. “Even though it’s unlikely, there’s a slim chance one of the inmates could take our weapons. We’re trained to handle ourselves without weapons. Remember that.”

Her gaze drilled into me until I nodded. She waved over one of the COs in the yard. His dark skin resembled the Sandseed Clan members, and his bald head reminded me of Moon Man, Yelena’s Story Weaver. Moon Man had died during the Warper Battle. A sudden wish for Devlen’s comforting presence washed over me.

“This is the Black Sergeant. He’s in charge of the yard,” the LT said.

He nodded.

“Behave and follow the rules,” Cicek told me.

“What are the rules?” I asked.

“Depends on my mood,” the Black Sergeant said.

I would have laughed except he didn’t look like he was joking. Cicek left and the Black Sergeant returned to his post, leaving me. I glanced at the inmates. All females and only a few used the training equipment. The others preferred to gather into groups.

Leaning against the far wall, I watched the activity. The first sign of trouble was the glances. A large cluster of women kept looking at me. When they spread out and approached, I prepared an escape plan. The Black Sergeant kept an eye on us, but he didn’t appear too concerned.

“Hey, new girl,” the one woman called. Slightly broader than the others, she was also a step ahead of them. “Did you enjoy killing your husband?”

I smiled despite my rapid pulse. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You can quit the innocence act. We know better,” she said in an unfriendly tone. She came closer.

Valek’s patient instructions replayed in my head, calming my heartbeat. I examined my opponent. A classic bully intent on making a point. Talking my way out of this wouldn’t work.

“You know nothing.” I pushed off the wall and strode toward her, stopping mere inches away. I confronted her. “Go away before you get hurt.”

Her gang members laughed, but she didn’t. Perhaps it was because she read the intent on my face.

“Big talk.”

As she reached into her pocket, I moved. Poking her torso with two fingers, I stepped to the side as she hunched over in pain. She pulled a weapon. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed. With a shriek, she dropped the shank, and I increased the pressure, forcing her to her knees.

My attack lasted seconds. By the time her gang recovered from their surprise, she was at my mercy.

“Keep your distance or I’ll break her arm,” I ordered.

They hesitated. Without their leader, they didn’t know what to do. I met the Black Sergeant’s gaze. He nodded.

“I’ll make this simple,” I said to the others. “Stay away from me or you’ll end up like her.” Pinching my finger and thumb, I sent a fresh wave of agony up her arm.

She screamed and writhed on the ground. I waited until she passed out, then released my grip. Standing over her prone form, I made eye contact with each woman. No one challenged me.

Satisfied, I picked up the shank and joined the Black Sergeant. He hadn’t moved from his post. I handed him the weapon.

“Impressive,” he said. “Too bad those moves won’t work for you tomorrow.”

I hoped I wouldn’t be here then. Because he was right.

Back in my cell, I waited. It occurred to me that most of the time needed to carry out a mission involved waiting. And the inactivity wore on my nerves. Finally, after confirming the LT’s departure for the evening and listening for the midnight check to finish, I prepared for my foray into the SMU. Even though I had lost the tools and weapons in my clothes, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve. Well… Not quite my sleeve.

I pulled my jumpsuit down and dug my fingernails into the skin on the outside of my right thigh, peeling away the strange putty Valek used to cover the lock picks glued there. He had matched my coloring so well, two strip searches hadn’t discovered it.

On my left thigh, I uncovered a few other surprises. Once all my goodies were in their proper places, I lay on the bed, or rather the metal shelf covered with a thin mat, and sang one of my favorite songs off-key. Happy my voice didn’t warble with the nervous fear humming in my blood, I belted out the lyrics.

“All right, songbird, quit the concert,” the CO ordered through the bars.

“No.” I started the second verse.

She grumbled something about teaching the new girl as she unlocked the door and entered my cell. “Stand up.”

I noticed she kept her distance. The Black Sergeant must have told her about my use of the pressure points in the yard. I stood and faced her.

She gestured to the back wall. “Secured position. Now.”

“No.”

The officer’s foot kicked toward my ribs, but I dodged to the side and trapped her leg. I jabbed a dart into her calf and depressed the little plunger, squirting liquid into her body.

She yelped and jerked her leg free, staring at me in horror. “What the…?” Her confusion softened.

She staggered and I caught her before she hit the floor. I dragged the now-sleeping woman over to the bed and undressed her. Pulling clothes off an unresponsive body was harder than I imagined. I tugged and swore under my breath, wasting precious time. The next check would be in an hour.

Once I finished, I changed into her uniform, smoothed my hair and locked the CO in my cell. I stopped at her desk, rummaging for a piece of paper. Folding it in half, I used the CO’s keys to access the stairs and headed down to the SMU.

After another set of doors, I approached the main entrance to the wing. A single CO sat behind a gray metal desk. As soon as he spotted me, he jumped to his feet. Suspicion creased his face.

I waved the paper. “Message from the warden.”

“At this hour?”

I feigned shock. “Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Rioters attacked the Councilor’s Hall. They’re holding the Councilor for ransom.”

A slight hesitation. “And?”

“The Fulgor security force is worried they will demand certain prisoners to be released. The details are all here…” I stepped closer.

He reached for the paper and I pricked him with a dart.

“Hey!” Grabbing my arms, he dragged me toward him. “What did…?” He swayed.

I steadied him. “Sit down before you fall down.”

He plopped into the chair and slumped over the desk, sound asleep. I silently thanked Valek’s fast-acting sleeping juice. The last barrier between me and Ulrick remained. This would be difficult.

The steel gates into the SMU could only be opened from inside. I pounded on them. After a few moments, a small panel slid to the side.

A hotshot peered through the opening. “What?”

Relief that it wasn’t Finn or one of his goons spread through me as I pointed to the side. “Your man is sick, and he can’t go to the infirmary by himself. I’d take him for you, but he won’t leave his post unmanned.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Delivering a message.” I held up my paper and explained about the Councilor.

“What’s the word?” he asked.

“Scratched.” One of the benefits of the silence rule in the Black Widows’ wing—learning today’s password.

The panel slid back into place. I crossed my fingers as my heart did calisthenics. A series of snaps and clicks sounded before the gate swung out. The hotshot nodded to another behind him and glanced at the sleeping man. He sighed. “Deggan, stay in the unit. I’ll cover until a replacement shows.” He cleared the threshold. “Let me see the message.”

When I handed the paper to him, I poked a dart into his hand. He flinched.

“Sorry, my ring must have—”

He turned away. “Deggan, lock down!” he yelled before collapsing onto the floor.

Damn. I jumped over him and rushed Deggan, who tried to close the gate. Tackling him to the ground, I jabbed his leg. Not the smoothest move, but it worked. He remained still. Another victim of Valek’s juice. Two darts left.

I tried to drag the men into the SMU wing to hide them, but they were too heavy. Plus the lack of time. Once my CO was discovered missing, escaping the prison would be impossible. Right now, I had a fifty-fifty chance.

The cells in this wing had no bars. They had solid metal walls, and steel doors with slots for food trays and a window like the one on the gate. Only a couple lanterns had been lit.

Hurrying through the wing, I counted cells. From various overheard conversations, Valek had determined Ulrick’s location. Although, considering his recent comment about being able to get into the prison, I wondered if he’d already been inside.

I skidded to a stop in front of number ten. Sliding back the cover on the window, I peered into the cell. Darkness spilled out between bars. I would have to trust Valek.

“Ulrick,” I whispered through the opening. Nothing. “Ulrick, it’s me, Opal,” I called louder.

A rustling sound reached me and Ulrick appeared. “Opal?”

He met my gaze and I gasped. Haggard, hollow-eyed and looking years older, he blinked at me without emotion. The fire gone from his green eyes.

“Nice try, Finn,” he said. “But you don’t even look like her.” He sighed. “Which means you lied about seeing her in Fulgor.” He turned away.

“Wait! It’s me. I’m disguised as a CO.”

Returning to the window, he said, “That’s a new one. At least you got the voice right.”

“Ask me something only I would know.”

“Nope. Not playing your games anymore, Finn.”

Frustrated, I peeled the putty from my face, yanking off the padding around my nose. “It’s me!”

He considered. “What are seeds?”

“Bubbles in the glass.”

“Too easy. What killed the leader of the Storm Thieves?”

“I did.”

An incredulous laugh burst from his lips. “It is you! Only Opal would blame herself and not the Greenblade bee for his death.” Then he sobered. “Why are you here? Did you come to gloat?”

“Of course not. I need information.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why would I tell you anything? You’re the reason I’m here.”

Sudden fury welled. “No, I’m not,” I snapped. “Your own selfish actions led you here.”

“You stole my magic!”

“It wasn’t all yours. Most of it was mine, and you left me with no other choice than to suck us both dry!” Anger burned through me and I didn’t care if I shouted. “Take responsibility for your own actions, Ulrick. Admit your mistakes and make amends.”

“Like Devlen? Don’t tell me he’s still conning you? How stupid can you be?”

“I’m smart enough to avoid the lure of blood magic. It made you greedy for power.” Nic’s comment about greed and stupidity being the downfall of many criminals replayed in my mind.

“You think you can resist blood magic? Overcome the addiction?” Ulrick asked.

“Of course. And I don’t have the time to argue with you. I need—”

“I know what you came for, Opal. What do I get in return?”

“I can appeal to Councilor Moon and the rest of the Sitian Council to not execute you.” My offer had an unexpected effect.

Instead of looking relieved, Ulrick blanched. “No deal. I’d rather die than be in this hell for the rest of my life.”

After spending a day here, I understood. “How about if I promise to inform the Councilor about the horrid conditions?”

“Can you kill Finn for me?”

“Tempting, but no. I could try to get him fired.”

“Not enough.” He considered. “And Miss Goody-Goody wouldn’t help me escape. Would she?”

“No.”

“You don’t have much to offer.” He stared at me a moment. “I wasn’t planning on telling you, but I changed my mind. Since Miss High and Mighty thinks she can resist the lure of blood magic, I’m going to tell you where you can find your blood.” Ulrick explained where he hid it. “The rules still apply whether the blood is yours or not. You’d better talk to the Councilor about the conditions in here before you become an inmate. See you later, Opal.” Ulrick retreated into the darkness of his cell.

I slid the window shut as a variety of emotions twirled in my chest. Relief mixed with fear—he could be right about becoming addicted even if I’d use my own blood. I shoved my concerns aside. It was time to escape.

A good plan, except a sizzling whoosh sounded as all the lanterns blazed at once. Squinting into the sudden brightness, I froze.

Finn and his goons—Erik, Carrl and Lamar—stood between me and freedom.