Page 36 of Pulling Strings

Canned applause rattled through the speaker.

“Reports indicate he was taken into custody late last night and is currently sweating it out at Thorngate until trial,” the DJ continued. “Now, I don’t know about you all, but I hope they throw the book at this kid. Our justice system needs a win against these creeps, and nothing sounds better than ordering the execution of one of the most prolific murderers in modern history.”

The swish-thwack sound effect of a guillotine blade cut sharply through the air. Witches were long-lived creatures with an appreciation for tradition. While the modern world moved on to the lethal injection, we rolled heads like French Revolutionaries. It was a gruesome way to die, but it drew a crowd.

The DJ blathered on. “The question of the hour, though, is who gets the bounty? The puppeteer playboy was worth a cool 60k, dead, alive, or otherwise. So, who’s cashing in?”

A drumroll played.

“That payday is going to none other than Maximus Lyle’s right-hand man, Jacoby Thatcher, who was able to signal the authorities when Marionette broke into his home. I think we can agree Mr. Thatcher’s survival is a reward in and of itself, but the sixty grand is nice, too.”

“Hell, yeah, it’s nice,” I muttered. Jacoby Thatcher wouldn’t be collecting any bounty from beyond the grave, but I had no doubt Grimm would eagerly accept the payout. “And he’d better not spend it all before I get out of here.”

Clyde shushed me, then cranked the volume on the radio.

With a grumble, I rolled to lay flat on my back, nudging the shower tote and extra clothes against the bed’s side rail. Antimagic draped over me like a weighted blanket, pinning me in place.

I grabbed the sides of the thin pillow and pressed them against my ears, muffling the DJ’s voice as he concluded, “The trial is set for next Friday, folks. It’s gonna be big and I, for one, am not gonna miss it. Bring your signs, wear your shirts, and let’s show the world how we feel about putting this scumbag down for good.”

When the show cut to a commercial, Clyde turned the radio off. Silence filled the air, punctuated by my own slow, steady breaths.

Today was Wednesday, which put only nine days between me and a court date. To my knowledge, no members of the Bloody Hex had ever been arrested, which made this a precedent. It also made me a suitable scapegoat for any and every bad thing the gang had ever done.

“One of the most prolific murderers in modern history,” though. I hoped Grimm heard that bit because I wasn’t going to let him forget it. Made me sound likea pretty valuable asset, too valuable to leave rotting in a prison cell or at the Capitol’s mercy.

The gang would get me out of here in nine days or less. Heads were going to roll, all right, but they wouldn’t be mine.

13

Visiting Hours

Twenty-four hours in, I had slept—albeit fitfully—and eaten. Clyde finished four new drawings, each more detailed than the last. It must have been paying off to have a captive subject in the room.

I’d also gotten a lay of the land. Stemming from the circular tower of the cell block, Thorngate boasted a cafeteria, a few rec rooms, a commissary, and a library with computers that ran on dial-up. The yard area was small and fenced on all sides; chain link even obstructed our view of the sky. No great loss since it had rained for the one hour we’d been allowed out. I spent the whole time sitting under Clyde’s hulking form like he was a human umbrella.

The big fella tailed me everywhere. He didn’t say much, so I found myself filling the silence while he doodled in his notebook. But he couldn’t follow me this time because I’d been called to the visitation area.

Relief came with nervous jitters as a guard led me by the elbow down an unfamiliar hallway. I did my best to step carefully with the chain clattering between my ankles. Guards in this place didn’t slow down for much, so I didn’t dare trip for fear of being dragged the rest of the way.

We stopped in front of a door long enough for the lock to disengage. The guard pushed into a very beige room, tugging me along behind. Once inside, I glanced around. Three chairs were positioned between partitions, all of them facing a single, long table and a wall of Plexiglas. Corded phones were mounted beside each seat.

Non-contact visitation left much to be desired. Mostly, the human element. I felt like a zoo animal on display as the guard marched me to an open seat and shoved me down into it. The other side of the glass showed a mirror image of the prisoner side. It had the same phone, bare metal chairs, and entry door with a wired glass window.

I pinched a fold of fabric on one pant leg and swished it between my thumb and forefinger. Nicotine withdrawals were putting me through the wringer. Between bouncing my legs, chewing on straws I snuck out of the cafeteria, and picking at every imperfection in my coveralls, I couldn’t find enough ways to keep my hands and mouth occupied. Cigarettes could be purchased from the commissary, but only if you had funds.

Two more inmates entered and were shown to their seats. I watched over my shoulder while they were both tucked behind partitions, and the guards who’d brought us assumed watchful positions at the back of the room.

Who would come? Grimm was busy playing second fiddle to Maximus Lyle, and Vinton and Avery shared my “looks like a duck” dilemma. I half-expected Avery to prance in anyway, wearing Groucho Marx glasses, until the visitor’s door opened at last.

When Donovan entered, my heart leaped into my throat. I fanned my fingers in a weak wave.

He rushed forward, grinning while grabbing thephone. I followed suit and cupped the receiver to my ear in time to hear him exclaim, “You have no idea how glad I am to see you!”

Tears stung my eyes. My nerves must have been more shot than I’d realized, or I was just relieved to see my brother in one piece after the evacuation of Jacoby Thatcher’s house. No, I had more faith in Nash’s concoctions than that. Donovan’s smile was a stark contrast to his sleepless eyes and mussed hair. He looked like me after a bender, and the whole thing made me damn near giddy.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, frowning.

I propped both elbows on the tabletop and tipped my head against the phone. “You didn’t waste any time. I barely got here.”

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