Page 52 of Son of a Witch

Serena, who had remained silent throughout all this, finally spoke. “Who’s on your priority capture list, sir?”

Vancor tossed a report onto the center of the table. “The most violent criminals. Members of Edwardo’s and Slash’s gang.”

Of course. That’d be right. We had to go after the very people who wanted us dead. Those inmates with the least to lose and the most to gain. Deadly prisoners who wouldn’t think twice about killing us for their liberty. Just our luck. And if we managed to catch them, then we’d have to deal with prison politics from Edwardo’s aunt—a high-ranking Guild Councilor—once they were returned here. Fun.

The warden gestured at the guard behind us, who brought over a handful of magical dampening cuffs. “I want you all carrying these to put on the escaped prisoners in case they’ve found ways to get theirs off.”

“What do you want me to do, sir?” Tor asked, his voice soft, childlike, in comparison to his usual boisterous boom.

“Stay here.” The warden’s tone brooked no arguments. “Attend your physiotherapy sessions. Get your fitness level back up and we’ll decide what to do with you then.”

Tor’s eyes sharpened. I knew that look. T.R.O.U.B.L.E. “What to do with me? You’re throwing me aside, sir. I’m useless. Going to be left to wither away in here.”

“Tor.” I wrapped a hand over his shoulder, stroking the back of his head, but he brushed me off.

“Surely there’s something I can do.” Tor grabbed a handcuff. “Carry weapons. Open portals. Anything.”

Vancor’s face fell with sympathy. “Mr. Helms, your wheelchair cannot cross inaccessible places like grass or crushed stones. I can’t send you out and have you getting stuck or be a liability to your team.”

“I’m not a fucking liability.” Tor flashed teeth with every word. “My powers can incapacitate inmates while the team cuffs them.”

“I’m sorry, son.” The warden stood straighter. “I can’t risk it. We’ve lost too many men as it is. Good men and women. Soldiers. You’re already injured, and I won’t take the chance of sending you out for further complications, if not death. Insurance will not cover it. My decision is final.”

“Death couldn’t be any worse than wasting away at this shithole!” Tor punched the side of the table and it scraped across the floor. Knuckles bleeding, he wheeled away.

We all stood in silence, gazes darting between the team. Pascal tapped a tune on his lips. I started to catch up with Tor, but Knoxe clamped his hand over my wrist, digging in his fingers. His expression saidstay put. This was between Tor and the warden, not me, and I couldn’t interfere. All I could do for Tor was to be there for him and find a way to sneak away during a mission to buy a black market spell to cure his spinal injury and get him back on his feet and on missions.

“All the best tomorrow.” The warden clapped Serena on the shoulder. “I trust you will return with prisoners.” No pressure or anything.

“We won’ let you down, sir,” Serena replied as he departed. I backed away, wanting to go speak to Tor, but our new team leader got in first with, “Team, let’s prepare for tomorrow and review the mission brief.”

***

I approachedhim like I would a wounded animal. Slow, cautious, and hesitant. "You okay? Want to talk about it?”

“No.” The hard edge to his voice told me to leave it be but me being me, I wouldn’t drop it. Tor wanted to feel useful and part of the team, otherwise we’d lose him, and I couldn’t have him fall deeper into his depression.

He rinsed the dried blood from his knuckles under the tap in his cell, rubbing hard at his broken skin. If he kept that up, he’d rub away more skin and make himself bleed. I carefully took his wrist, pushed him aside, and cleaned his wound.

“I’m sorry the warden won’t let you come on missions,” I started as I finished washing it.

“Don’t start, Astra.” Hearing my name and not my nickname was like a slap to the face, and I stumbled backwards from the sink. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

This was slowly killing him, and I felt helpless to do anything. But Tor had to stop feeling sorry for himself when he wasn’t the only person to suffer an incapacitating injury. Many people around the world lost limbs or ended up in wheelchairs, but that didn’t mean the end, that they weren’t contributing members of society. Artificial limbs or wheelchairs helped paraplegics or disabled people live fulfilling and successful lives.

Tor could still assist the team in other ways that didn’t involve missions, like research and reconnaissance. Valuable information that would support the team, missions, and hopefully lead to us cracking the case of Styx, the missing prisoners, and more. Assistance like that would surely earn him bounty points and his freedom.

“Just because you can’t participate in missions doesn’t make you useless, Tor.” I crept forward to stroke his hair. “You can make yourself useful in other ways.”

He huffed. “Yeah? Like that?”

I ignored his snappy tone. “Conduct research in the Watch Tower. Find a link between the missing Guardian technology and the vampires. A lead on the vampire coven or on the escaped prisoners.”

“The Watch Tower?” Tor groaned. His least favorite activity. An active guy, the man couldn’t sit still and constantly shifted, fidgeted, twirled pens, and rolled around on his chair. “I can’t think of anything more boring.”

I moved to his shelves to retrieve the first aid kit I’d brought back from our training room. “I know you hate research, but we could really do with some leads.” I sat on the bed, and he wheeled closer to me, giving me his hand.

“No, thanks,” he said as I stuck butterfly bandages over his bruised and grazed knuckles.

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