Dragon Mystics (Supernatural Prison #2)

I didn’t reply, my dirty looks were speaking volumes. Mischa was a little slower to follow. She blinked a few times at me. Either her eyeballs were freezing from the icy cold or she was trying not to cry. I held her gaze until she shook off the emotions and turned away again.

The cave started to narrow into a tunnel of sorts, growing darker the further we got from the secret cliff doorway. Enough light for my wolf eyes, but I think a human would have struggled. This area seemed like every other cave I’d ever been in, but if that was really the case, why was every single hair on my body standing on end? Why were my wolf senses on high alert? – not to mention my dragon, prowling the walls of her cage, almost as if she was on patrol.

I had a sudden thought. And with a burst of speed I grabbed my sister’s hand. The connection between us flared to life, but with no visible energy for the other twins to pick up on.

Did you tell them about my ability to shift to dragon?

I needed to know. I was most probably walking right into a trap, and my dragon felt like a secret weapon of sorts, which it wouldn’t be if they already knew about her.

Mischa’s wide green eyes met mine, she withdrew her hand, and for a moment I thought she was going to ignore my question. Thankfully, before I had to beat it out of her, she gave her head a shake. She followed that up with a sad little smile, and I knew that for now my secret was safe with her. There was some loyalty there deep down.

I wish I knew the real reason she continued to run back to these manipulators. Their siren persuasion was only supposed to work on males and those unaware or easily susceptible. Had Mischa’s heartache and misplaced trust weakened her mind that much? It felt like there was something else. In order to save Mischa, I had to know what continued to pull her back. I would bide my time. One of them would slip up sooner or later.

The tunnel was long, winding, and freezing, but I left my arms loose at my sides. I didn’t want to waste a second if I needed to fight.

“Where did this entrance come from?” I found myself asking.

Neither of the twins turned back, but one of them still answered. “This was where they took the prisoners to dispose of them. They would be magically bound and tossed off the cliff. Falling to their death.” There was a brief pause. “It was easy enough for the townspeople to accept that they’d died trying to escape.”

Especially since their magical binds would have disappeared upon their demise. Very harsh. We didn’t have the death penalty in the prison system, so I assumed it was for those who they wanted to secretly dispose of. Corruption was rife in all organizations, and ours was no different. Cover stories were easy. It was simple work to spin a story when you had all the power and the other was dead.

We continued in silence, the path unchanging. I was about to ask how much further when unnatural illumination started to filter along the corridor and I knew we were closing in on something. Rounding a corner, I saw the bars first, threading across the path, blocking us from moving forward. No worries though, for Siren One and Siren Two. The twins approached the male guard and he didn’t even hesitate to hit a button. The bars slid across, and as I passed through I noticed how vapid his expression was, pupils fully dilated. His loss of control was obvious.

Yeah, it was a wicked power. Shame it had to be in the hands of these fucktards. A clank signaled that the door had closed behind us, and just like that I found myself in a row of cells.

We were in Krakov.

The cells ran along our left side – the right was the roughened stone – extending as far as I could see. The atmosphere was tense, this place had a very bad vibe to it. The cells I could see were occupied by a variety of supernaturals, from all of the races. A lot were demi-fey. These inmates seemed harder than the criminals in Vanguard, eyes dead, brows furrowed, lines of stress across their features. They looked old, and supes didn’t look old until the last few years of their lives.

I found it strange that none of them glanced up as we moved past. We weren’t quiet. Our footsteps scraped the stone and our scents should have tipped them off to our presence.

Orange must have noticed my confusion. “This prison is harsher than Vanguard. The worst of the worst are sent here. There are spells on their cells, like a one way glass. We can see in but they can’t see or hear out.”

Well, that would explain it. And harsh was an understatement. These prisoners were basically in solitary confinement, cut off from all contact with others. For shifters, and many of the other races, it was a torture worse than death.

Lemon picked up the conversation. “They don’t separate the races in here. These cells simply wind their way through and around this mountain.”

“So basically this entire mountain is Krakov?” I tried to wrap my head around the logistics of this. Cells just winding themselves deeper and deeper into the rock.