The cold was starting to bother me. It was icy enough to take my breath away and freeze my eyeballs. Moisture gathered on my lashes, and my lips felt dry and chapped. I was dreaming of food, a warm bed, and a naked Braxton. Maybe I could eat my food off a naked Braxton while in bed. Yes … yes, that was a great plan.
I knew when we neared the lower levels of the prison. The energy grew strong, the securities pressing. The elements woven into the bars of the prisoner’s cells were visible, and on instinct I shied closer to the stone side. For the first time in ages my eyes alighted on the prisoners. I blinked a few times. Unlike the sad souls up higher, all of the ones down here were sitting perfectly still, making no noise, and all staring straight at their bars as if they could see through the magic one-way-glass. The only reassurance was that their eyes didn’t follow me, but still it felt eerily like they could see what was happening.
In this row I recognized a few famous supernatural criminals. From what I could remember of history class, this appeared to be the section for crims who had created massive publicity in the human world. I growled as a familiar face came into view – a sorcerer, his white eyes identifying him immediately. I wasn’t sure of his real name, the text referred to him as The Rostov Ripper. He was a serial killer of the worst kind. He loved young girls, luring them in, raping and torturing them. A pity that his incarceration didn’t include daily disembowelment. I was actually a little surprised he was still alive. The high security and separation in this prison had allowed him to keep his head. Which was a fucking shame.
There were three gates in this small section alone, eight guards, and the only one to even look twice at us was a female shifter, and she was immediately silenced by her partner with a right hook to the jaw. This was how all the female guards we’d seen had been subdued, which pissed me off so bad. The twins were manipulative assholes; they cared for no one but themselves. Typical sirens, so used to controlling males that they thought they could control everything.
When we reached the end of the path, there were no more bars, and no deviation off the path. It was a stone wall, dead end.
“So what’s the plan now?” I was quite proud by the level of sarcasm present in my words.
They turned and their twin grins were freaking unnerving. I wanted to punch both of them in the nose.
They spoke together. “Now, we open the wall.”
Sure, of course. Open the wall.
“How are you going to do that?” I asked. My hackles raised as the two of them closed in on either side of me. I backed up a little, both hands held slightly aloft so I could fight them if needed.
Orange flashed her dark eyes in my direction, followed by white teeth. “Easy, just a little blood offering.”
A little what the what? Not on my watch, sister, I bleed for no one. I never even donated blood to Maximus, and I loved him more than life. I started to back up faster, keeping a certain amount of distance between me and them. They stopped pursuing me about halfway along this small section, and I was just wondering what the hell they were doing when they both spun and pounced on my moronic sister.
I didn’t hesitate to change directions, but I knew I was too far away to get there in time. All I could do was watch in horror.
They were far more skilled than she was. It took no time for Orange to produce a knife, and with a move any expert would be proud of, she plunged it into Mischa’s side, sliding it between her ribs. A gasping yelp escaped from my twin’s mouth, and she collapsed immediately. I could hear her ragged breathing and knew they’d punctured her lung.
My initial fly kick smashed Lemon in the back of the head, slamming her face first into the stone. She bounced back up without pause and spun to engage me. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek, scraped from where she’d hit the wall. I growled, my hands shifting into claws as I gouged at her. I had to get to Mischa and Lemon was in my way.
Over her shoulder I noticed Orange reaching down to hoist my twin into her arms. Furious, I clocked Lemon, my elbow smashing her jaw. But again I couldn’t reach Mischa in time. Orange sent her flying toward the wall blocking the path.
Blood splattered as she hit the rock, and then I sensed the magic. A burst of power shot out through us, ancient, strong – like Louis’ magic always felt.
Lemon tried to duck by me. I swung around and punched her. I got a good hit in because she was distracted – trying to reach her sister. Perfect opportunity. I punched her again, dodging her feeble attempts to defend herself, and finally my elbow put her down. This time she stayed there. Kicking her once in the gut, I leapt across her body and moved to help Mischa.
The ground rumbled and I skidded over the rocks to reach my twin, yanking her into my arms, pulling her away from the falling debris. Whatever the bitch twins had done was bringing down the wall. With a bang it disintegrated, rocks rolling out across the floor, leaving behind an entrance into what looked like another small stone area.
The twins both stood above where I was cradling Mischa and stared down at me.