Page 63 of Pulling Strings

He reached up as though he could feel the illusionary errors, then scowled. After giving him a moment to reapply his disguise, we were on the move again.

We’d barely turned and taken a few steps before a trio of men in plainclothes rushed toward us.

Burly Vinton, overdressed Avery, and my brother closed the gap to us. Donovan broke out in front, racing forward to tackle me in a bear hug. After only seeing him through a plastic screen, and physical contact having been reduced to being pushed around by guards and other prisoners for days, I clung on. At least, I diduntil he pulled back and waved a hand in front of his nose.

“Dude, you reek. And your hair…” He grabbed a ratted lock and tugged. “Do they not let you shower in here?”

He grinned, teary-eyed, and I huffed a laugh. Quickly looking him over, my attention caught on the pistol tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Only equipped for this situation, I hoped, and not because he was embodying punk gangbanger energy on the regular.

Avery came up beside us, weaving a dagger between his fingers. “What’s the holdup? Is this a prison break or a family reunion?”

I puckered my lips at him. “You want a kiss now, jackass?”

“Don’t touch me.” He recoiled. “You are fifty shades of disgusting. I’ll have to spray you with a hose before you get anywhere near the car.”

But I wasn’t getting in the car or getting out of this place. Didn’t he know?

I looked over to find Grimm talking shop with Vinton. He seemed content to use me as a tour guide through Thorngate’s depths, then free every prisoner in the world but me. Why was I going along with it?

“Infirmary’s this way,” I told them, shoulder-checking Grimm as I passed.

“But we just came from there,” Avery whined.

I moved ahead of the pack, walking fast with my fists clenched. Donovan rushed to catch up but, to my relief, kept quiet. The headache was needling at my temples now, and the pain fueled my rage.

We encountered no opposition and no other prisoners as we finished the journey to the infirmary. When the five of us gathered outside the closed door, Vinton tried the knob first.

“Locked,” he grunted.

“He probably ran.” Donovan jerked his thumb back in the direction we’d come. “Everyone else did.”

Grimm shook his head. “He’s not the type.”

Vinton twisted the handle again, then rattled the door against its frame. “You want me to break it down, boss?”

I could have picked that lock, too, but I’d given enough to this mission considering I was getting nothing out of it.

The rest of us scattered while Vinton stepped back, turning and bending to make himself into a battering ram. Before he could charge, the stale air around us stirred. A breeze whipped by as though someone unseen had rushed past. Looking down the hallway, the confusing, inconsistent lighting showed no evidence of an intruder.

Muffled grunts and the scuffling of shoes put my head on a swivel. Our group had been reduced. Donovan, Avery, and I stood in a semicircle, but it wasn’t until the strobes flashed again that I spotted the other two.

Grimm and Vinton hung suspended from the wall, held in place by ropes of shadow. While I stared, the darkness spread, blanketing their bodies and creeping across their faces.

A sweep of my hand failed to gain purchase on their bonds. Nothing tangible, but something distantly familiar.

Pistol fire echoed in the cramped corridor.

I ducked then turned to where Donovan stood with a gun in hand, frantically tugging on the slide to clear an apparent jam.

Avery whirled around, as well. “Donovan Farrow, if you put a bullet in me, I’ll skin you alive,” he snapped.

Another gust of wind unsettled my hair. I tracked it snaking past me, speeding toward Avery. My shout of warning got his attention but didn’t stop the darkness from closing in.

Black spikes shot up from the floor and bound the conjurer’s legs, ready to drag him away. He swung his knife-wielding hand backward, and a scream rang out.

Grimm and Vinton slid down the wall with simultaneous grunts, and I spotted a shock of white hair suddenly aglow in the intermittent light. Holland Lyle, sans sunglasses, doubled over at Avery’s back, grabbing her thigh.

Why was she still in the prison? Had she been following us? If so, she’d chosen a terrible time to intervene. Perhaps she thought we were cornered here, with walls and a closed door on three sides, but five to one was lousy odds, despite the power outage working heavily in her favor.

---