As much as I don’t want to, I keep as close of an eye on all of the guards as I can. No one else reveals a secret, even with my doing a bit of snooping.
Although I don’t want to, I don’t have a choice. The warden will want something, and with tensions running so very high, I can’t risk having the warden upset with me. I have to remain on his good side.
My heart pounds, hurting me with every breath as I climb up to the top floor. The doors open before I can knock on them, and I enter. It’s just before dinner. I won’t have a lot of time to talk to him, which is a good thing. The fewer number of minutes I have to spend with the warden, the better.
The barbarian eyes me. “I assume you are here for a reason?”
“You assume correctly.”
His smile reminds me of a cat who has caught a bird. On more than one occasion, I may have used a bit of chlorokinesis to cause the cat to then lose the bird. I know cats need to eat, and I do not begrudge them food. I do, however, prefer to not have to witness the carnage.
No, I most certainly do not wish to witness the carnage.
Which is why I have to find Sophie and get her out of here so we can figure out who Jaidos had been working with. There must not be a war between the paranormal beings and humans!
Just like that, I'm energized and refueled, laser-focused and certain that this is the right thing to do.
“What do you have for me?”
“Samuel.”
“An angel?” He lifts his bushy eyebrows.
“Yes. He’s in love with a prisoner. She committed a crime specifically so they could be together.”
“Her name?”
“Athena.”
“Ah, a witch. She just was processed for her crime yesterday.” Rall drums his fingers together. “What else?”
“That is all I have to report.”
“For the present time.” He waves me away and eyes his tablet.
My stomach twists into knots, but maybe if I continue to snitch, he’ll be willing to tell me about Sophie. Then again, I doubt I can trust the barbarian. He is the warden after all. He’s not going to view this as a favor. This isn’t a two-way street.
Rall lifts his gaze. “Why haven’t you left yet?”
“I was just… What are you going to do with them?”
“That is none of your concern.”
I nod and bite my tongue so badly a lump forms. As much as I want to know what will happen as a result of my tattling, I suppose I will just have to wait and learn what happens after the fact.
That night, there’s nothing to learn. Samuel is there, eating with us, which makes me worried that something is being done to or with Athena instead. But the next morning, Samuel still seems happy and content, so maybe Rall is just filing away this information for when there’s a need to show his hand.
At dinnertime, Rall again makes an appearance on his way to Portia’s office. His gaze scans over all of us, and I flinch. He wants another update, that’s clear to me, but I have nothing to report.
So I ignore him and finish working for the day.
We finish our shift and turn over the floors to the two trainees, and I realize that not all of the paranormal executioner wannabes have been here for an entire week. There have been a few here only for a day. Everything here is not as it’s supposed to be. It’s almost like this place is a void where days have no mean, there are no dates, and it’s just the same thing day in and day out.
Why? Why have there been so many changes? Because I do think that maybe at one time, the trainees truly did have to spend a week here.
“Come fly with me,” Azorra begs.
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t last night.”
Azorra seems so eager that I finally nod. She’s thrilled, and we head to our floor and out one of the windows in the hallway.
The gargoyle lets out a whoop and does a few flips and circles before singing a song I don’t recognize.
Leaving her to her fun, I fly around the side of the prison. Down below, I spy one of the hellhounds. What is he doing? Is he digging? Which one is he?
Curious, I fly down a little lower. There's a raven feather fluttering in the breeze, and I realize the birds I saw constantly congregating near the fifth floor aren't there anymore.
Wait. The fifth floor houses the dwarves and elves and fairies.
And the birds had been on the fairy wing.
One of the prisoners has been communicating with the birds. At least, that's what I think. But how is that possible with the magic-dampening cuffs? But it doesn't make sense for Druiz or Berserkmongrel to call birds. Neither ogres nor hellhounds have an affinity toward nature and, by extension, birds.
Very interesting.
But what Dragonchomp is doing is just as interesting. He’s digging frantically, and then he’s dragging something to the hole.
A body.
He’s burying a body.
The wind shifts, carrying with it the stench of death, and I clap a hand over my mouth. I’m going to be sick.
As swiftly as I can without moving too quickly and upsetting my stomach more, I return to the window and our floor even though I still have two minutes yet. Without stopping, I fly on up to the warden’s office. This time, I do have to knock.
“Come in, Sequoia,” he calls.
I open the door, having to push with all of my might. The doors seem heavier than they should be.
The warden waves me over. He’s glancing out a window in the opposite direction of Dragonchomp.
“Sir, Rall, I was flying—”
“You were spying on my defense team?”
“I didn’t mean to, but I saw… Did they kill someone based on your orders?”
The warden clasps his hands behind his back before turning to face me. "No, no, I didn't."
“One of the hellhounds is digging a grave. I saw him drag a body to it. He’s burying a body right beside the prison!”
Rall nods slowly. “Which one?”
“I don’t know!”
“Do you know which hellhound?” he asks slowly, as if talking to a child.
“Oh.” I flush, feeling embarrassed. “Yes. Dragonchomp.”
“Thank you. I will look into this.”
And I leave. I'm shaking, so disturbed by what I saw but also worrying that Rall isn't telling me everything. Does he favor the angels? Castiel is still working after all, and I don't know if Samuel has been spoken to or not. I suppose that isn't any of my concern, but I have to think that Rall will do something about Dragonchomp, right? Or will that be swept under the rug like dust bunnies and bits of scattered spices? Because spices get everywhere despite how careful you are. I don't know how witches can be so prim and precise while making their potions. Fairies are a bit more lax. The potency of our potions is determined by the freshness of the ingredients used, whereas I believe the potency of witches' potions comes from the strength and powerful magic of the witch.
That night, I don't sleep much. I've had such terrible sleep here. Tomorrow, I'm going to take the lunch shift. Nora isn't around to harass me for taking my turn early, and I'll be able to look everywhere but among the dwarves and elves to try to find Sophie. I don't think she's on that floor at all. I had been on that wing with Castiel, after all. I would've seen her even if I wasn't looking for her. I have to believe that. She's somewhere else, but there are too many floors, too many cells. I hate this feeling of helplessness. It's going to consume me, swallow me whole, claim every bit of me, including my heart. There'll be nothing left of me at all by the time I'm able to leave. I'll have to drag myself out of here, unable to walk or fly. But I will leave one day, and it will be with Sophie.
Just before dawn, before any of the others should be awake yet, there’s a scratch at my door. I think nothing of it, but then there’s a more solid knock.
Confused, I call, “Come in.”
It’s not Azorra or anyone else I might suspect.
No, it’s Bloodbite and Berserkmongrel.
I sit up in bed, more than a little wary. "Hi, guys. You're my wake-up call, huh? As you can see, I'm awake."
Bloodbite uses his foot to shut the door.
Gulping, I take flight, flying above them, wanting some space. I really don’t like the way they’re looking at me.
Like I’m a tasty morsel.
And they haven’t eaten for years.
The two hellhounds exchange a look. On cue, they morph, growing, altering their size until they're taking up so much room I barely have space to move. I try to fly to the window, but one of them grabs my wing. A tearing motion forces a cry to escape my lips, and I'm yanked to the ground. One has a paw on my wings so I can't move, and I try to kick to punch, to do anything at all to shove them off me, but it's all to no avail. There's nothing I can do as they bite me, claw me, rip me to shreds. I'm bleeding and bruised, and I know why.
Because I snitched on Dragonchomp.
“Have you had enough?” Berserkmongrel asks.
Bloodbite laughs and bites me. “I haven’t had enough blood or bites yet.”
They laugh, and I can't breathe. All throughout their attacks, one or the other has a paw on my chest, making it impossible for me to talk. I can't cry out. I can't think or do much of anything except hold up my arms to protect my face. The rest of my body, though, they're destroying.
Tears stream down my cheeks, and one of their paws manages to get past my arm and touches the tear. There’s a sizzling sound as the water burns, and the hellhound backs away.
“Leave her,” Bloodbite says.
Berserkmongrel shows what a mongrel he is because he twists his paw on my wing to tear it even more. I cry and wail, all noiselessly as they leave my room, reverting back to their normal size.
Through tear-laden lashes, I glance at the door. Bloodbite turns and walks back toward me. The hellhound grins, and in his teeth, I see my blood and bits of flesh.
I close my eyes and hope this agony will cease.