Chapter 8 #2
The air sat heavy in the corridor, thick with damp stone, old disinfectant, and something sour underneath it all—sweat, fear, hopelessness.
Cold crept from the walls themselves, settling into my skin despite my coat.
Somewhere farther down the prison, metal scraped against metal.
Another voice cried out once, sharp and ragged, before abruptly cutting off.
The cell itself looked painfully ordinary.
Iron bars dulled with age. Stone walls stained darker in places from years of moisture. A narrow cot sat shoved against the wall beneath a tiny window no bigger than a dinner plate. A small metal desk. A sink bolted into the corner. Gray. Cold. Empty.
“This was Allison’s?” I asked.
“Yes,” answered the werewolf guard. My eyes moved slowly around the room, trying to picture her here. Not managing it but trying anyway. There was no trace someone had lived here. Nothing personal, that is. Just emptiness. “She died in here?” I asked.
“No.” The werebear answered this time. “Medical wing. She collapsed after she’d been sick inside containment.”
Sick. Not riot.
I slowly turned toward the guards. “Wait. Sick? She was sick?”
The werewolf guard nodded once. “Yes.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not right.”
The werebear folded his massive arms over his chest. “It is. Cause I’m telling ya.”
I pointed between the two of them. “Her sister said there was a riot. People got into Allison’s cell,” I continued, my heart slamming against my chest. “She said inmates broke in and killed her.”
The werewolf guard blinked and then looked over at the werebear. The werebear looked back.
“Oh good,” I growled. “You’re doing that silent communication thing. Love that. Super comforting.”
“There wasn’t a riot,” said the werebear finally.
I stared. “No riot?” I repeated. “No prison uprising? Or inmates escaping containment?”
The werebear shook his massive head. “No.”
“No magical chaos or murder cult?” I asked.
The werewolf frowned. “What?”
“Just checking.” My pulse started climbing again. This didn’t make any sense. Because Addison had been very clear. Prison riot. People got into Allison’s cell. Killed her.
“What’s going on, Tessa?” asked Iris, looking just as confused as I was.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure.” I glanced at the guards. “You said she died of a sickness?”
“Yes,” answered the werewolf.
“Sick,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“What kind of sick?”
“We don’t know.”
I cocked a brow. “Don’t you work here?”
The werebear narrowed his eyes. “We’re guards. We don’t get involved with medical.”
I pointed my finger at him. “Okay but guards hear things. Right?”
“Not always,” answered the werebear.
“People gossip,” I pressed.
“Not here.”
I rubbed my temples. Because suddenly my brain felt like someone had dumped puzzle pieces onto the floor and kicked half of them under the couch.
“She got sick,” I repeated slowly.
The werebear nodded. “Fast.”
My eyes lifted. “Fast?”
“Yes. A few days.”
A few days.
Something cold slid slowly through my stomach. “She wasn’t sick before?” I asked carefully.
The guards exchanged another look.
Oh I hated that. I hated silent communication. Say words. Use language. Participate.
“It happened after her sister visited,” answered the werebear.
The entire prison disappeared around me. “What?”
“She had a visitor,” answered the werewolf. “Her sister. A few days before the sickness started.”
The corridor suddenly felt colder. I looked back at Allison’s empty cell. “She got sick after Addison showed up,” I said as the pieces started to fit together.
“Tessa,” said Iris softly.
“She lied.” I shook my head slowly. “The bitch lied.”
I didn’t think the guards were lying about Allison getting sick. The cell looked way too clean for just a regular inmate death. This looked like they’d made sure to disinfect every corner. Because they were afraid. Afraid whatever killed Allison was going to spread.
So, Addison lied. No one had broken into Allison’s cell. Addison walked into Hollow Cove carrying grief like a weapon and pointed it directly at me. She made me feel guilty—okay not really but still—made me doubt myself.
“You need to tell me everything,” I ordered the guards. I realized as the words left my mouth how they might take that as crossing the line, but I didn’t care. Whatever Addison was planning, it was worse than I thought.
“There’s not much else,” said the werewolf.
“Try harder,” I growled.
“Tessa,” warned Iris.
“No.” I pointed toward them. “Everything. When she visited. How long she stayed. What happened after. Everything.”
The werebear exhaled slowly. “Her sister stayed for two hours.”
“Then what?” I pressed.
“She seemed normal afterward,” said the werewolf. “Quiet maybe.”
“Then she got sick. Fever first,” said the werebear.
“Weakness,” confirmed the werewolf. “Then shifting problems.”
My heart stopped. Actually physically stopped. “Shifting problems?” I whispered.
“She was wereape,” said the werebear. “Started struggling to stabilize forms.”
The world tilted. Because suddenly I wasn’t standing inside a prison anymore. I was standing beside my couch. Watching Darian shift. Watching fur flicker. Watching him tremble. Watching him get sick.
My lungs felt tight. “Darian.”
“Tessa,” Iris said carefully.
“She poisoned her. Or cursed her.” I knew it. Deep. Bone deep. “She poisoned her own sister,” I whispered. But why? Why would she do that? And what did that have to do with Darian?
My Dark witch friend stepped slowly toward the bars, her dark eyes moving carefully over everything. “Something feels wrong.”
My pulse jumped because I felt it too, standing here. Something didn’t fit. Something was missing.
I looked at Iris. “We need to go. I have to see Darian.”
Iris nodded. “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”
My anxiety had officially climbed into a tiny panic attack. Then I was hit with questions. Did Darian wake up? Was he shifting again? Was Ruth currently sitting beside him telling another horrifying medical story that somehow ended with permanent magical consequences and an oddly happy ending?
“Thank you,” I said to the guards, taking one last look around Allison’s old cell. “You’ve been weirdly helpful for prison people.”
The werewolf guard didn’t answer.
Neither did the werebear.
Fine. I didn’t care. I needed to get home. Needed Marcus. Needed Darian. Needed—
Clang.
I froze. Beside me, Iris stopped instantly.
Slowly, very slowly, I turned.
The iron bars behind us had slammed shut. Hard. Sealed. The echo still rolled through the corridor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled.
The werebear, to my growing horror, smiled. Prison nightmare smiling.
Beside him, the werewolf grinned too. Oh fantastic. Group smiling. Love group smiling.
Iris stepped slightly closer beside me, and I felt her body stiffen.
“If you thought you could just walk into Grimway,” said the werewolf, “ask questions… and leave… you misunderstood where you are.”
I felt my brows reach the bridge of my nose, also known as the WTF frown. “You’re making a mistake.”
The werebear stepped forward, his heavy boots hitting stone. “You should have stayed in Hollow Cove.”
Instinctively, I pulled on my magic—ready to blast me some prison guards with my awesome Nexari mojo—and got a whole lot of nothing.
Right. No magic in the prison.
Ah, crap.