Page 54 of Her Magic Light

My fingers flexed and curled behind me as the handcuffs chafed my wrists, and I inhaled sharply each time my feet struck a new step. Shit.

No elevator? I wanted to ask him the question, but I didn’t dare. Coop and Locke had rarely answered direct questions, but this guy might kill me for opening my mouth at all. No amount of curiosity was worth my life.

The steps seemed endless, as if we were descending to the same level as my cell. For a moment, my chest constricted again. My art supplies. I’d only just been given them… I shouldn’t even have had them but someone had known how important they were to me.

My mind slowed. It was almost like someone in this place cared. Locke had brought me the supplies and a tiny light. I’d thought Coop sent them, but he burst in looking for contraband. I lifted my face toward the ceiling, imagining the sky beyond, and sent a prayer to whatever or whoever was out there.Please.

The guard jerked my arm again, and we both stopped as I teetered on the edge of a step, unable to see how far I might fall if he let me go. His rough breathing echoed here, and it was like the stairs were a physical effort for him.

Maybe they needed to rethink that elevator access.

His grip on me shifted, becoming more punishing. His fingers were a vice grip, squeezing until my arm ached. I’d have bruises by the time he let me go.

I couldn’t find any anger in my hopelessness, though. I needed to reassess, take stock of my new situation, and discover where I could find my power in this new area. I’d just been learning the rhythm of being kept in the dark and recognizing parts of uncluttered corridors, and now I’d need to start again.

Bess entered my thoughts. What was she thinking? Had Sweetwater forgotten me, or were the residents fighting to return me to them? How long had I been gone? I should have been counting the days. I blinked away sudden tears at that direction of my thoughts and swallowed around the lump in my throat.

I wouldn’t cry in front of this man.

He resumed half-dragging, half-lifting me down the stairs, and I relaxed to make the process easier. It was harder if I tensed, and it hurt me more.

We stopped before I expected it, and my head whipped forward before lashing back and cracking against the wall beside me. Even with the added cushioning of the fabric hood, pain vibrated through my skull, and my teeth clacked together.

I grunted, and the man laughed, the sound wheezier than it had been before like he was still suffering from the effects of the physical exertion of bringing me here. “Did you bump your head?” He didn’t bother with mock-sympathy. “I think you’d be less trouble unconscious.”

His punishing pace picked back up now that we were on level ground again, and I couldn’t find my footing. Yet it didn’t slow him down, and I was a deadweight as he dragged me forward.

When he stopped again, he released me to stand alone, and something beeped nearby like he was typing a code into a keypad. Each beep sounded the same, and there were six in total. Then there was a whirring sound, and a poke to my back had me stepping forward once more. He pushed me ahead of him, now back to directing me with the end of his weapon. He had a knack for striking the same spot right above my kidneys—unless I moved my hands to protect myself and then he mashed the cuffs harder into my inner wrists instead. The spot above my kidneys already ached, and I would surely have injuries circling my wrists.

“Welcome to solitary,” he barked. His tone was anything but welcoming, although there was a malicious joy in it, like this was a guy who really got off on his job.

I shivered, but not because of what he’d said or why he’d said it, but because my thoughts ricocheted to every TV program I’d ever seen about solitary confinement and maximum-security sections of prisons. Left alone, in the dark, with only my own thoughts for company.

I might rot down here.

And God alone knew who I was being kept with ifIwas considered dangerous. Being alone was probably preferable to sharing solitary space with an asshole.

Strange things had happened to me since I first arrived here—people with actual fangs, a man who could seemingly travel as a holograph…or perhaps just a figment of my imagination that first night. Then there was Adrian with his swagger that seemed to make even Coop nervous, andIwas the dangerous one?

But if all of those people were still out there, and Adrian had been allowed to remain in the general population, who the hell was in here with me? The unanswered question sat like a lead weight in my gut, and dread seeped from it, chilling me.

“Did you hear me?” The guard prodded me again. “I said…” He leaned really close until his mouth was right against the fabric of my hood over my ear. His hot breath warmed my skin, and I shuddered. “Welcome to solitary.” He roared the words, and I yelped, jerking away, and bumping my head again as my ear rang at the blast of sound.

Before I could collect myself, he ripped the hood from my face and shoved me forward. I spilled onto my knees, barely catching myself with my shoulder before my head struck the hard floor.

“Shit,” I ground out, and the guard laughed cruelly behind me before he slammed the door with a force that echoed a bang through the small space. He’d left me cuffed. My hands were stuck behind my back.

I glanced around.

Four walls.

One metal bed.

One toilet.

The light in here was low. An artificial fluorescent light no brighter than the flashlight Locke had brought me. Shadows collected in the corners of the room, and they were dark and foreboding, so I inched away from them.

Turning my attention to the door, I noted I could see this door, this time. It had a tiny viewing window in it—way higher than was comfortable for me to see out of, and a slot that maybe a tray would pass through. At least they might feed me regularly down here.

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