Page 121 of Mortal Shift
The guard eyed me for a moment, then turned on his heel and let me back through the doors behind him.
The hallway we emerged into was long, barren, and flickering with dim light. Each footstep echoed back at us as we moved, but this time I buried my shudder before it could make itself known. Zane might be an asshole, but he was right: there was no room for weakness here. The fae, and the other supernatural races, they respected strength and power. I might not have any powers—supernatural pessimism aside—but I was a whole lot stronger than I’d been the day I walked into Darkveil, and not just emotionally. And whilst I didn’t think I’d last thirty seconds in a fight with anyone in here, I sure as hell could give them the impression that I wanted to try.
The guard mostly ignored me as he led me the length of the corridor. We reached the end and he turned left—through what appeared to be a solid brick wall. Fae magic. It was either a glamor or a portal, but either way I had to pass through it. Turning back wasn’t an option. I sucked in a breath, lifted my chin, and tried to pretend I wasn’t about to walk into a solid brick wall—or worse, shitting myself about what I’d find on the other side of the not-solid brick wall.
I emerged into another corridor much like the first, and the guard ran an eye over me before giving me a curt nod and carrying on. We passed through three more of the glamors—enough that I didn’t think I’d be able to retrace my steps without help, which I suspected was the idea. Presumably the warren was meant to cut down the changes of escape. I hoped, given that this place held their most dangerous criminals, that they had more defenses in place than just that. On the other hand, if they didn’t, then if all else failed I’d be attempting a little prison breaking myself.
That exact notion died a death in my mind as we emerged through the last glamor. We were in a small chamber, and every inch of the walls, the floor, and the ceiling was marked with runes and sigils, so many that I couldn’t even begin to guess at their meanings. But I could feel the air around me thickening with their intention, and this time I couldn’t suppress the shudder that worked its way through me. My chest tightened and my heart stuttered, and I realized I couldn’t draw in a breath. My mouth opened and closed like a beached fish, but it was as if someone had sealed off my airway. My heart leaped from its stutter into a frantic hammering, beating a tattoo inside my constricted chest, and I turned wide, panicked eyes of the guard.
He watched me impassively for a long moment, and then touched his hand to one of the runes on the wall.
Air rushed back into my lungs and I dropped to my knees, doubled over and gasping as I choked on the sudden assault of air. My eyes streamed and I rocked back on my heels, panting. Fuck. For a moment there…I’d thought he was going to let me suffocate. And there hadn’t been a damned thing I could have done about it.
I swallowed hard, trying to get my erratic breathing—and heartbeat—back under control, then looked up at the guard. He cut me a cold look.
“Remember that, if you’re thinking about trying to break your mate out. Only a guard can deactivate the rune.”
I swallowed again, then forced myself to my feet. That was an experience I could happily live my life without ever going through again. Scratch the whole breakout fallback plan. I pasted my mask back onto my face and forced myself to meet the guard’s eye.
“If you’re done playing, I have plans for tonight, so let’s stop wasting everyone’s time.” The imperious edge to my voice was somewhat undermined by the rasping aftereffect of almost being suffocated, and the smirk on the guard’s face told me that was exactly what he’d intended.
He made no move to lead me anywhere else, and I planted one hand on my hip and arched a brow. “Unless there’s something you need my help with?”
“You could start by telling me what you are. I was told human.”
“You were told correct.”
He shook his head.
“‘Human’ doesn’t trigger anti-magic runes.”
“Then your rune’s broken!”
Okay, I was pretty sure ‘broken’ wasn’t actually a thing when it came to runes, but defective, or incorrectly drawn, or… Well, it didn’t matter.
“Are you going to take me to see my mate, or not?”
He watched me a moment longer, then grunted.
“This way.”
I followed him through a door—an actual door this time, not a glamored wall, which was something of a relief, and found myself in a yet another corridor, this one lined with gray doors every ten or twenty feet on either side. The doors looked like they were made of some kind of metal, like you might find in any ordinary prison, but nothing about this place had been ordinary so far, and I doubted it was about to start now.
We didn’t stop at any of them, but kept moving right to the very end, and through another rune-marked door—literally through. The guard pressed his hand to the wall on one side and the door shimmered he stepped into it. I hurried through behind him, not dwelling on what might happen if the door became solid while I was halfway through…or what would have happened if I’d tried the handle. There were some things I just didn’t want to know.
The guard led me down a staircase, then through—in the usual manner this time—another doorway on my left.
“You don’t think this is all a little excessive?” I asked.
“Your mate tried to murder a member of vampiric royalty. He’s lucky he wasn’t executed the second he confessed.”
Finally, I found myself in a small corridor, solid wall on one side, and three doors set into the wall on the other. The guard pressed his flattened palm to the center of one, and then pulled open a viewing panel. He peered through for a moment, then grunted and pressed his other hand directly below it. A high-pitched whine whistled through the air, and then the door swung open.
“Ten minutes,” the guard reminded me. I nodded and stepped inside, and the door swung closed behind me.
Cole was sitting on the edge of a small bed, elbows on his knees and head hanging, dressed as casually as I’d ever seen him in a plain white tee and gray sweatpants. He raised his head warily at the sound of the door, and then lunged to his feet.
“Cali, what’s going on? What are you doing here?”
