Dark eyes bore into me, like they wanted to dig into my brain and set up a vacation home there. “Moss O’Malley, I hereby sentence you to three years in the magical corrections system,” the mouth that went with those eyes announced.
My stomach dropped, nearly taking me down with it. What was I going to do with myself for three years in jail? I looked to my lawyer to gauge his response. His client had just been convicted, and yet there he stood grinning like an idiot.
He told me earlier that he’d been hoping for less than five years. I, on the other hand, had been hoping for a miracle.
Glancing around the small courtroom, I swallowed, finding it more and more difficult to maintain my stoic persona.
“You will be eligible for parole in one year,” the judge continued, and I had to work really hard not to roll my eyes.
He paused for a moment as if inviting me to say something. When I failed to meet his expectations, he cleared his throat and added, “That is, if you exhibit behavior to indicate you’ve learned the importance of keeping a balance in magic.”
What in the tail fuzz did that mean? I had been keeping the balance. I’d been making sure there was enough dark to counter the light. Stealing was dark, right?
Seemed dark to me. And it had built me up quite the little nest egg, too. Fat load of good that would do me in prison.
I turned my attention back to the judge. He wore the traditional wizard clothes, all black with a small, round hat. His enormous desk, completely ostentatious, hid the lower part of his body from me—not that it mattered. I already hated every part of him I could see and was pretty sure I’d feel the same way about the parts I couldn’t.
My gaze strayed to the right, to the jury of seven magic users. They stared at Judge Neeley with rapt attention, nodding along to the older wizard’s proclamations. Well, at least they seemed happy with his words. I just wanted to disappear in a puff of smoke.
Unfortunately, my magic was blocked, had been ever since my arrest. I couldn’t so much as glamour Judge N’s clothes into a different color.
“Good behavior will be rewarded, O’Malley,” Judge Neeley continued, quirking one eyebrow as if offering me a dare.
More good news. Maybe if I volunteered for janitor duty here in the magical jail, I’d be able to convince them I was redeemed, turning over a new leaf.
Then, when I got out of there for good, I’d make sure to not get caught again. Well, I’d make sure my friends weren’t the type to rat me out in exchange for a plea deal.
Okay, okay. I’d had my day in court—and it sucked big, giant hairballs. Now I just wanted to get out of there, to get on with it, but the judge just droned on and on…
“As with all shapeshifters, you will spend your time at the cat-shifter prison in Georgia.”
I blinked hard at that one.
What? No way. I was definitely not okay with this.
All my attempts to remain passive flew out the window as I looked to my lawyer, panic flying through my veins.
He gripped my wrist, a silent attempt to keep me quiet.
“You said they might not make me go there,” I whispered urgently. “You said I’d probably get to stay right here.”
The small courtroom was in a giant building on Maine’s Carraway Island. I’d been kept in a cell on the top floor thus far. It was pretty much the top security prison for the magical world. We didn’t get a large number of wizards and shifters in jail, so we’d hoped I’d be able to stay right where I was.
For the most part, this New England prison was run like the human ones. Guards oversaw the prisoners’ day-to-day lives. Meanwhile, the convicted were allowed small entertainments, like an hour outside every day. Well, sort of outside. Someone like me created an illusion for an hour each day within the individual cells to make the prisoner feel as though they were outside, at the venue of their choice.
It really helped with prisoner morale to spend an hour on the beach each day. Or playing in the snow. Or floating in a mountain lake. We had far fewer suicides than the humans, a fact they had proudly told me as they’d closed my cell door behind me the first time.
Great, I’d thought then. I’m in prison, but at least I’ll be able to semi-visit the beach.
Now I cursed myself for not appreciating it while it had lasted.
Because the cat-shifter prison in Georgia was the stuff of legends. I knew a few guys who’d done time there, and they hated talking about it. When pressed about it, all they ever said was that they’d never go back. And the ones on my crew had always requested background work. They never wanted to go out into the field. Instead, they planned, helped run our club, and watched our backs.
And these were some of the toughest guys I knew. I wasn’t tough. I was wily, yes. Smart, of course. Slippery and guileful. But nobody ever accused me of being brutish or rough. I wasn’t the sort to be described as a thug. Nope, never.
I’d kept plenty of those guys around for protection, but I was the brains of the operation, brains behind a handsome face, but nevertheless, I did the thinking.
But still. How bad could it be? It was only for a year. And all I had to do was be…
I swallowed back a bit of bile.
Good. Nice. Helpful.
As much as it pained me to think about, I knew I could do it. After all, it only required a bit of acting, and what did a magic user with the ability to shapeshift and create illusions know about life if I didn’t know about acting?
“And finally,” the judge prattled on, making me wonder how much of his little speech I’d missed while desperately treading for life amidst the panicked waves crashing against my brain. “You will be confined to your shifted state for the duration of your sentence. Unless you are approached by an agent of the Magical Corrections System, you will not be allowed to speak as a human or interact with others.”
Judge Neeley looked down his nose at me. “If you have any questions, please direct them to your lawyer… or to our frequently asked questions department.” He leaned to the side and when he sat up, the hateful old man plunked a wastepaper basket on the top of his desk. It had a sign written in bold, black lettering.
F.A.Q.
Looked like somebody fancied himself a comedian. Well, I wasn’t laughing.
The jury burst out in hysterics, though, and so did the court reporter and the lawyer for the prosecutor.
Even my own lawyer tittered along with them. “Good behavior,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
I plastered a smile on my face. “Ha. Ha, ha.” It sounded fake as all get-out, but it was the best I could muster as the weight of my coming sentence settled in my gut. Three years at the most infamous and heinous prison on the planet. The humans had nothing on this place.
As the courtroom began to clear and the jurors headed out the back way, I turned in my seat, hoping to stay with my attorney for as long as possible before they dragged me back to my cell. Or wherever I was headed now.
“Excuse me.” A woman’s voice caught my attention. I hadn’t realized there was anyone in the room behind us and spun to face her now.
I looked over the short, rather dumpy woman for a moment, then dismissed her, assuming she was after someone else’s attention.
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” I asked my lawyer, hoping he could prove useful yet. “Anything to keep me here? At least here I can play outside. Or maybe you can convince them that I don’t have to be shifted the whole time.”
As he opened his mouth, to give me bad news judging by the look on his face, the woman interrupted again. “Excuse me,” she said more urgently and much closer. She’d crossed the back of the room.
I faced her again. “Yes?” I asked politely, even going so far as to bat my eyelashes in her direction. Maybe she was a fan. I did run into those from time to time in my line of work.
“You said something about trying to get out of that prison in Georgia,” she said, raising her dark brown eyebrows.
I nodded. “Of course. Everyone knows that place is awful.”
She sniffed. “Right. Well, I’m no shifter, so I wouldn’t know, but I am an agent for the Magical Corrections System.”
I looked her over with my eyebrows up. This was what an agent looked like? The woman was easily sixty, and she looked like she’d huff and puff going up one flight of stairs. “You are?” I tried not to sound too disbelieving, but it didn’t really work.
Her face flattened. “As one who can glamour, you should know that looks don’t mean jack when it comes to magic, Moss O’Malley.”
I inclined my head once. “Of course. I apologize Miss…?”
She sniffed. “Kaye. Kaye Godwin.”
“Miss Godwin. You were saying?”
“I was saying, I can help keep you out of that place. I need a shifter to help with a case, and you’re just the sort that could do the trick.” She beamed at me as if she’d just handed me a golden ticket.
“A case?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m trying to catch a bad guy—”
I cut her off. “A bad guy?” What was this woman, going after a kindergarten strangler?
She glowered. “Maybe I don’t want your help, after all.”
Biting back a chuckle, I held up one hand. “I’m sorry, no. Please, go on.”
“I’m going after a criminal,” she enunciated carefully as if I’d never heard the word before, “and I could use a shifter’s help.”
She wanted me to help her catch someone else, probably dangerous, instead of spending my sentence in a nice, safe jail.
I shook my head. “I think not,” I said. “It’s only a year. I’ll survive, and without narcing anyone out by helping you.”
Kaye glowered. “Suit yourself. Enjoy your time in jail.”
She walked away in a huff, and I sighed as an officer approached.
My pulse raced as he held out his hand, magical cuffs ready.
“It’s time,” the officer said.
I gulped and looked at David in panic, but he just shook his head. “Remember,” he whispered. “Good behavior.”
Good behavior. Okay. I could do this.
It was only one year, right?