Page 117 of Son of a Witch

Secondly, I addressed the rules. Guardian regulation one hundred and twenty three… don’t judge a girl for knowing that…declared Tollens were not to purloin trinkets from gantii worlds for personal gain. Punishment: two hundred credits. Repeat offenses: six months in maximum security. Rules went out the window when it came to my freedom and the men I loved. The men I would doanythingfor.

I guarded Raze’s secret to protect him from permanent captivity. Disregarded Tor’s contraband activities because it benefited his family when they needed it the most… oh, and my selfish reason, like getting scented soaps and shampoos. Treats from my boyfriend to make my stay in prison a little more comfortable. Not to mention I protected Pascal from lockup in maximum security like my father. Destroyed Raze’s blood samples at Knoxe’s request and denied knowledge of him Tasering the doctor to save Raze.

Fuck. Criminal was my middle name. Thief. Low-life scum. The ball in my chest rooted deeper into my system. If I took something from here, I was no better than the heartless traders.

No. There had to be another way to get what I needed. Logic was necessary here. Balance. Quid pro quo. Whatever I took, I would replace somehow. No. Not replace. This operation deserved to be ruined. Save more lives. And that was what I decided to do.

I braced Pascal’s face in my palm. “I don’t like this either. It’s icky. But it’s my only way to help Tor right now.” I stroked his flawless, creamy skin. “I can’t break my promise to him.”

Pascal’s thumb swiped across my jaw. “I want to help him as much as you do, but this isn’t the right way.”

“I’ll make this right somehow. Get justice for every creature in here.” I dropped my hands from him. “Stay guard if you don’t want to participate.”

Grief and regret flittered across his face. It echoed in my heart. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Abandoning him, I hunted through more boxes, tearing out bones of unknown gantii, some small, like fairy arms, others larger like goblins.

Pascal reluctantly crossed to the opposite end of the shelf to ferret with me, staying close, protecting me if trouble found us. Together we poured through numerous cases of shells, rings, coins, beads, orc tusks, and carvings.

Eventually, I found a redwood box containing three chains with vials full of glowing crimson liquid. My hands shook as I fired up my magick, examining the contents of the vessels, confirming they were Fae blood.

“Found it.” Lips curved in a smile, I turned to Pascal, closing the lid and tucking the box under my arm.

“Good. Let’s get it back to Tor.” Pascal captured my hand and guided me out of the musty room into the hallway where two men were advancing.

“Shit.” I crushed the box tight to my body and raised a palm to get rid of these creeps. Orange swirls of chemical equations lit up the darkened hall, the light reflecting in their eyes.

Pascal did the same and forgot about his inhibited magick. The worms got off two shots that hit him and he slumped to the ground.

“Pascal!” I released my power at the two assholes and rendered them a bloody pile of goo on the floor.

I fell beside my motionless man on the ground, checking his pulse. Weak and tripping. He needed the infirmary. Damn the warden for stripping his powers.

I lifted my bracelet to radio to Knoxe when a clammy, cold hand seized me by the neck, jerking me off the floor. The box clattered to the ground.

“No.” I thrashed in the iron grip, scratching to get free and breathe. “Get your fucking hands off me.” My snarl was met with a hard thump on the back of my head.

Everything went blank. Everything went to shit again.

***

Bright light floodedmy system and I groaned. Gooey stiffness in my limbs blocked me from getting up. Coldness bled into my sides and legs, and I trembled. I groped for purchase, finding only cold metal. Not my cell bed. Where the hell was I? Strange place to wake up.

Sludge covered my mind like a layer of mud at the bottom of a lake. Head throbbing, I rubbed at my crown. Dried blood flaked at my exploration of the back of my head. Fuck. What happened? I searched for the memories robbed from me. The last place I was. What I was doing. Who I was with. How I ended up here. Where was here?

“Hello?” I called out, regretting it, clutching my throat. Dry as the desert, scratched by sand, and sore. “I need water.”

Something shifted. A chair squeaked on the ground. Snuffles as if something sniffed me. Hissing and growling. The intense scent of copper and metal hit the back of my throat.

Heaviness in my limbs prevented my escape from the noise—a creature of some sort. Hands slick and sweaty, I grappled to move, sliding on the metal surface. Someone had drugged me, put me to sleep, and my stilted, sloppy fumbling was going to get me nowhere.

Breath scented with blood snuffled over me. Terror hit my veins like a dose of adrenaline. I pried my heavy eyes open and blinked back the blaring light until I could handle it. Everything in my direct line of sight spun. Flickers of it filtered through to my brain. Pallid, greasy skin. Clawed fingers. Red eyes.

The clunk of a lock bolt made me jolt and crush my body to the back wall. Fuck. A cage. The hinges complained of being opened. I kicked at the owner of the clawed hand seizing my neck and dragging me out. Movement set my stomach tripping with the need to wretch.

“Nooo. Don’ touugghh me!” Tongue thick and drowsy, I could barely pull together a thought, let alone a coherent word.

Speech I didn’t recognize came out in spits, hisses, and snarls.

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