Page 108 of Son of a Witch

More blood tests. The idea made me feel faint.

“Fuck.” Knoxe swiped his jaw, watching, the dark notes teaming off him expressing his discomfort and disapproval of this act.

The warden’s cold, uncaring gaze could have frozen Hell. “Unfortunately, policy prevents me from allowing you to escape and cause havoc in the real world.”

The man was all about procedure, rules, and accomplishment. He didn’t care about the prisoners like Vartros did. Treated us like we were ants he squashed under his boots. Soldiers to do his bidding. Not humans with feeling.

Shock pinned me in place. I remained safe, for now. But for how long? Once all the prisoners were rounded up? The dark place I never wanted to revisit called my name and promised I belonged there forever.

“That’s a mistake, sir,” Knoxe intervened, stepping forward once more. “Pascal is the most powerful member of our team. Our capture rate is high because of his ability to debilitate an enemy. You weaken him, and you decrease our ability to apprehend the fugitives.”

The warden tugged at his shirt sleeves beneath his jacket. “Guardian rules, I’m afraid. I’m only making an exception due to the circumstances.”

Because I was useful to him. Once that purpose was fulfilled, I would go into that dark hole and never come out. The music shut off and only silence remained.

Vancor produced a cuff bracelet and jerked his head at the two sentries.

“No, I don’t want to wear that.” I backed away.

The warden radiated undisputed authority that no man in here dared challenge without reprisal. “You make another move, Mr. Fielding, and the sentries will be forced to Taser you.” His sharp gaze went to Knoxe, his wide pupils like lasers targeting him. “The same goes for you, Mr. Akimura.”

Anxiety peaked inside and the meltdown returned with alarming speed.

Knoxe began to sing to me, a tune I didn’t recognize at first when I was too busy fighting the sentry’s rough clutch of my wrist. Familiar notes began to make sense. Operatic. Epic rock ballad.

Meatloaf.I would do anything for love.

My brother’s voice scaled higher to match the notes, not doing them justice. I winced at his terrible singing. Several bars into the tune, Knoxe brought me down from the dreadful heights, and lowered the manic pounding of my heart.

I jerked as the warden snapped the bracelet on my left wrist beside my comms bracelet. Knoxe sung even louder to distract me. The cold of the plastic burned my skin and I rubbed at it, trying to get it off. My companion for the next five years. Mechanical means to dampen my magick and spirit.

“Report to me upon your return, Mr. Fielding.” The warden gave me a stern nod and departed.

Fire erupted over my wrist and I tugged at the device. “Knoxe, get it off.” The plastic creaked as I wrenched it against the edges of my hand. “It burns. I can’t concentrate with it on.”

The warden’s action upended my plans for redeeming myself and reversing what I did to Tor. I couldn’t live with myself until my buddy was right. Certainly couldn’t go out on missions with this brick on. A complete distraction.

Knoxe curled his arm around me and rubbed my shoulder. “Can’t, buddy. It’s gotta stay on.” He crushed me to his side, offering soothing rubs to my shoulder that flared slightly. Nothing compared to the blaze on my wrist. “We’ll manage, okay?”

He started humming Meatloaf again as he dragged me to the Terra Room for departure. At least he stopped singing.

My stomach solidified. The bitter rush of guilt that haunted me this past month returned. Disaster happened when I lost focus. People got hurt and irrevocably changed. No, I had to stay.

“Knoxe, this isn’t a good idea.” I tried to wrench from his grasp, but he was bigger and stronger. “Leave me here.”

“You heard the warden, buddy.” His palm connected with my back and guided me around the bend, my gaze glued to the watchers above. “Let’s show that asshole what you’re made of. How strong you are. How much progress you’ve made. Setbacks are part of the challenge, buddy. You’ve got this.”

Gratitude played like a low blues melody.

“I won’t be at my peak without my magick,” I stated the obvious. “I’ll be a burden on the team without it. What if I hurt someone?” The last part came out a soft whisper.

Warmth coasted along my spine at the smile he gave me. “You don’t need it. You’re the most precise Tollen on the team. Perfect accuracy with every weapon. Kick-ass martial arts skills. Any man who goes up against you is gonna be sorry.”

New-found confidence leached into my pores, spreading through my bloodstream to every corner of my body. Resonant strings played an uplifting beat, reinforcing the positive steps I took to get this far. Walls of conviction scaled up around me to shield me from the taunts and opinions of other inmates.

The fragile, breakable freak transformed into the mighty superhero I immersed myself in on the pages of comics. A hero who studied human emotion to read it and understand his contemporaries. A warrior that challenged himself to look others in the eye. A conqueror who worked hard to accept the touch of those he trusted.

Reassuring as Knoxe’s words were, they were also a stark reminder of the reality in this place. Survival of the fittest. School of strength, resilience, and courage. To survive this hellhole, I had to fight my natural instincts, or become one of the dire statistics of prisoners who didn’t make it.

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