Conveniently Convicted

by Ivy Asher

  “Okay there, big guy?” I ask, spinning to sit on my bed.

  “You hit me in the balls. What do you think?”

  The intense scowl he wears makes me have to stifle a giggle. “Sorry.”

  He scoffs. “No, you’re not.”

  I grin, unable to hold it back, and his scowl cracks. For a second, his eyes soften as he sweeps over my face. “You have a nice smile.”

  Taken aback, I sit up straighter, my smile falling. Even Rook seems surprised that he let that confession slip from his lips. For a moment, we just look at each other. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but my stomach churns.

  I forgot who I was talking to for a second. Zen pretty much told me flat-out that Rook is the person who’s in cahoots with Alpha Bowen to try to kidnap me out of here. But for a few minutes, I forgot all of that. I even forgot about my visit with my mat and pat. He succeeded in distracting me with our handcuff game, and I didn’t even realize how much I truly needed that distraction until this moment.

  But it came from an enemy.

  I smiled. Laughed. Played. Tail flicked. At the enemy.

  Not good.

  Suddenly self-conscious and not knowing how to act, I clear my throat and look down at my lap. “Thanks for the distraction,” I mutter.

  “Anytime.”

  My eyes snap up, drawn to the huskiness in his voice. His anytime was definitely insinuating a distraction of the sexual variety. My tail wags inside my pocket, and I slap my hand over it. Rook smirks and then turns to leave.

  “Hey!” I say, shooting to my feet and racing over to the bars. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Oh, right.” Walking backward, he digs into his own pocket and then tosses me all three packets of Pop Rocks. Cherry flavor. My favorite.

  I smile at the bags lovingly. “I’ve missed you.”

  I hear Rook’s low chuckle echo down the corridor as he walks away. I drown out the sound with Pop Rocks candy explosions and tell myself that there’s no chance in hell that I’m falling for the enemy.

  It’s not my style.

  Nope.

  Not in a million years.

  6

  “I’ll give you five cup-a-noodles, ten assorted king-sized candy bars, and free pruno for a month,” a witch offers to my left.

  The small crowd around me starts to grumble as they assess their offerings or complain about the bid being upped.

  “Oh, that’s a good one,” I observe. “But you lost me at pruno. That stuff gives me serious heartburn, and I don’t like feeling like a Drake,” I tell the witch, while simultaneously mock-spitting on the ground to curse the Drake name. Dragons are the worst.

  Her face falls slightly and then immediately brightens again when she thinks about something else. “How about shower head for a week instead?” she offers, and I choke on air at her words.

  I perk up. No one’s offered me sexual favors yet. Totally taking that as a compliment.

  I clear my throat and try not to ruin my rep by staring at her wide-eyed like a newb. I’m two months into my twelve month sentence, and I have quite the thing going for myself here. Okay, fine. Zen has quite the thing going on here, but I go through daily prison life with a Zen umbrella over my head, and you’ll hear no complaints from me about it.

  Rook still hasn’t made his move and tried to break me out yet, but he is making other sorts of moves. As in, his head. He’s become more and more head wobbly with each week that passes. He’s even had to resort to tying his tail down to keep it from shimmying and flashing all his pretty tail feathers for me. I still smile and feel all kinds of giddy when I see him with his tail tied to his leg. Maybe his attraction to me is holding him back from taking up Alpha Bowen’s offer to break me out of this place. I know that my own tail is constantly being shoved in my pocket. Whatever his intentions are, I can’t deny that we’re ridiculously drawn to one another.

  Meanwhile, my shank business is booming.

  “Do we have any other bids?” Zen calls out, saving me from having to address the whole shower oral sex thing.

  I mean, the witch is cute. And what’s that saying? When in Rome, do the Romans?

  “A case of large Jolly Ranchers!” a wiry male shifter calls out, pulling me from my thoughts of sexy Romans doing the dirty Roman Candle. “Plus six cans of Coke, a dozen sugar cookies with the pink frosting and sprinkles, and four packages of Pop Rocks.”

  My head snaps to him, my eyes filled with interest at the mention of Pop Rocks. How does he know my weakness? I eye the shifter cautiously.

  Can’t seem too eager. I point at the item up for grabs. “This is a sturdy piece made out of lunch tray, mystery adhesive that would glue your ass to a rocket and have you up in space with no trouble, and gneiss. You’re telling me that four packages of Pop Rocks is the best that you can do?” I question, my gaze hard.

  The male shifter looks confused for a beat. “What’s gneiss?”

  I gasp. Blasphemy. These inmates need some serious rock tutelage. “What’s gneiss?” I repeat, shaking my head at his ignorance. “It’s only the best striped metamorphic rock formed from high pressure and temperature alone. This little beauty will stand the test of time, and I’ve made it as sharp as Wolverine’s blade,” I explain as I hold up the shank.

  “How the hell do you know that?” Sophie asks on a snort.

  “I’m a cockatrice; we have a thing for rocks.” I shrug. I thought this was common knowledge. Just like dragons like hoarding golden treasure and useless shiny things—so stupid—cockatrices like to collect rocks.

  “That’s what she said,” Sophie cackles, punching one of the water fae in the shoulder and raising her eyebrows like, get it?

  Zen shakes her head. “You’re better than that, Sophie.”

  I laugh at the dig.

  “Fine. Ten packets of Pop Rocks, a case of Jolly Ranchers, six Cokes, but no sugar cookies,” the skinny male shifter calls out.

  “Done!” I shout back with a smile.

  Several groans and curses ring out as people get up, pissed at having lost, but I couldn’t be happier. I made out like a bandit.

  “The item you’ve purchased will be delivered when Sinclair has received payment,” Zen calls out, and the male shifter nods his head and disperses with the rest of the group that’s breaking off.

  “I call dibs on a Jolly Rancher,” Sophie declares beside me.

  “Sorry, Soph, I have plans for those, but you and the crew can have the Cokes,” I offer instead.

  “Fine. But they better not be diet,” she grumbles, and I smile and give her a pat on the back. I don’t blame her. Diet soda is nasty.

  “Alright, Joe, you ready for another epic treasure hunt?” I ask the giant troll, my tone the high-pitched saccharine kind that’s usually reserved for talking to baby animals. I just can’t help myself with the big guy. He’s just too adorable with his grunts and his big ass self, and since he doesn’t talk, he’s the best secret keeper ever.

  Joe grunts happily—or at least I think it’s a happy grunt, they all basically sound the same—and follows me as I go full Shawshank and scour the yard for any more pretty rocks that either need to be added to my collection or molded into their true shank-tastic form. Everything else, I give to Joe for a snack.

  “Ohhh, amphibolite!” I shout out after about twenty minutes of treasure hunting.

  I hurry to pick up the rock and bound over to my troll, who’s currently gnawing on some concrete pieces. We’ve come to an understanding that he doesn’t eat rocks until he shows them to me first so I can give him the all-clear. I once caught him chewing on a beautiful sliver of obsidian, and I about lost my mind.

  “Now, Joe, you may be thinking to yourself, didn’t she just sell a shank with a similar rock? And that’s where you’d be wrong. See the speckled pattern? It’s different than the stripes of the gneiss,” I explain, turning the rock around in front of us. “They have similar coloration though, which is mind-blowing, because the gneiss is deri
ved from granite, whereas the amphibolite isn’t! Can you believe that?” I ask him excitedly.

  Joe grunts. Excitedly.

  I nod. “You’re absolutely right, Joe! I’ll use a blue lunch tray for this one instead of the red, it’ll really complement the speckles. Such a good suggestion.” I hug Joe’s meaty thigh, since I can’t reach his midsection, but yelling pulls my attention away from the big troll teddy bear.

  Some shouts sound out, and I look over at the football game going on just in time to see a male vamp throw a football right in the face of an ogre. The ogre’s nose smashes even flatter against his face, and black blood immediately starts gushing out. He bellows in pain, and the vamp just barely misses getting splattered with ogre blood. Yuck. That shit smells like cat piss, and once it touches you, it takes weeks to get the scent out.

  The yard breaks out into chaos, like someone just flipped a war switch into the on position. I clap with glee. I was hoping my fight with the wolf shifter in the cafeteria during my first day was going to be a prison brawl, but he got collared too fast for it to really count. I love running with Zen, but the downside is no one includes me in their fights. That’d be fine if I hadn’t already written prison brawl on my bucket list, but everyone knows once something is on the list, it can’t come off until it’s been accomplished.

  “Oh my gosh, Joe, look how fun!”

  I point at the massive fight that’s growing by the second and start hurrying right into the heart of it. I take note of where the ogres are battling and arc away from it because...no thank you cat-piss blood. A kitsune snarls at me as I join the fun, but I just boop it on the nose before introducing it to my right hook. I coo as the split tail fox shifter gets all wobbly and goes down embarrassingly fast.

  I shake my head and tsk at it. “Not the hot shit you thought you were, huh? I like your tails though,” I tell the unconscious shifter as I dart off.

  Someone plucks a fairy out of the air and throws it at me. I catch him before he can slam into an ice wall that someone has conjured. “There you go, little Tinkerbell,” I tell him sweetly as I help him straighten up and get his bearings.

  “Shove that Tinkerbell shit up your ass, you dirty cunt!” the fairy yells at me. Out of nowhere, it conjures up a toothpick-sized sword and slashes at me.

  “What the fuck?” I exclaim as I jump back, just barely avoiding an eye-gouging.

  “I’ll fuck your nostrils with my fairy cock and have you sneezing my cum for weeks,” he threatens, and I reel at the little shit’s nastiness—that’s a visual I really could have done without.

  My hand flies up to my nose to protect my vulnerable nostrils. I start dodging toothpick sword attacks, all while the fairy hurls insults and threats at me with each parry. I’m not sure if I want to laugh, run screaming, or take notes at the foul shit coming out of the little guy’s mouth.

  “Did your Cheeto dad fuck a lemon? Is that why your hair is so ugly? Or is the yellow just making a run for it so it can escape your dumb bitch brain?” he sneers, flying in front of my face as he tries to stab my hand.

  “Hey!” I yell at the winged pest, drawing the line. “It’s fucking citrus ombré, you ignorant twat, and you wish your hair was this hot!”

  With that, I shift my hand into talons and flick the little mosquito from hell away. The fairy gives a very un-tough girl scream as he goes flying through the air and smashes into a wall. The sound restores my good mood.

  Who knew fairies were such angry little assholes? Tiny dick syndrome is in full effect with that one.

  The shouting and fighting from the other inmates all over the yard snaps me back to attention, but I get knocked sideways when someone slams into me. Righting myself, I turn with renewed excitement, ready to join the fray.

  Guards are starting to gather just as a fireball goes screaming through the crowd, and people leap and dive out of the way. It explodes against the outside wall of the prison and singes the concrete as it dies out. Another fireball gets thrown, and I look over to find a fae duo blowing them out like bubbles at a kid’s party. Looks like the fae came to play!

  I turn back around just in time to watch a big meaty fist come right for my face.

  Well, this isn’t going to feel good.

  I take the hit, releasing a small grunt as the fist knocks into my cheek. Serves me right for taking my eyes off the fight all around me just to watch the fire. In my defense, cockatrices can’t ignore pretty colors like that. It’s science.

  Reaching up, I catch the second fist before the dude can hit me again. I look up into the man’s growling face and find none other than Beast—the wolf shifter from the cafeteria. He’s finally back to settle the score.

  I give him a beaming smile, which only serves to piss him off even more. I’m still clutching his fist, and we both wrestle for control over it. I laugh. I’ve always loved the game tug-of-war. Wolfy growls and swipes at me with his other hand, but I catch that too.

  “What else you got, little fella?” I chirp excitedly, loving the look on his face that tells me he didn’t think I was this strong.

  Pain suddenly rips up my back, and I gasp from the shock of it and push the wolf shifter away from me. I turn to find another wolf, this one fully shifted, his claw-tipped paw extended. I can already feel blood dripping down my back where he swiped those razor-sharp nails down the length of my spine. He snaps his teeth at me.

  Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? Just going to chuck fair fight right out the window and go for someone’s back? I thought my family was bad, but at least we always fight face-to-face. I mean, what’s the point of winning if you can’t do it the right way?

  With a blink, I pull my beast forward. My cockatrice is simultaneously pissed and excited at the lesson we’re about to teach these two dishonorable shifters.

  I feel armored scales rip out of my skin, covering my torso and legs as I grow ten-times the size of my human height. My arms extend, and sharp spurs shoot out of my wrists. Thick bat like wings spill out of my arms, ribs, and middle back, and colorful feathers in every shade of red, orange, and yellow sprout down my spine. The tip of my tail has spikes that join the plume of tail feathers there to be battle-ready.

  “It’s a dragon!” someone screams, as I flash from woman to beast in seconds.

  I reach out and catch the attacking wolf with a taloned hand and throw him across the field like he weighs nothing. He slams into the surrounding fence, and it sends jolts of electricity painfully into him before he crumples to the ground in a cloud of dirt. I let out an eardrum-rupturing screech.

  Not a dragon.

  I mock-spit on the ground at the thought.

  I’m a motherfucking cockatrice, bitches!

  I spin, accidentally whacking into and knocking down a bunch of fighting inmates with my tail.

  Oopsie. It always takes me a few minutes to adjust to my large size when I shift.

  Walk it off, folks.

  I lock my bright yellow snake eyes on Wolfy and snap my bird’s beak at him. He stares at me, mouth open, and I stretch out to my full height so he can truly appreciate how badass I am.

  He just stands staring up at me, stunned.

  I know, right! I think cockily.

  He’s clearly too enraptured by my beauty and powerful prowess to move. I roll my eyes and then bitch slap him lightly with the non-pointy underside of my tail, reminding him to get his head in the game.

  Unlike some people, I like a fair fight.

  The slap up the back of his head seems to do the trick, and Wolfy starts to shake like a wet dog as he moves to shift.

  An alarm starts ringing in the background of all the chaos and noise, but I ignore it as I wait for Wolfy to be ready. This bitch is going down.

  My tail goes full golden retriever and starts wagging excitedly, forcing me to knock more unsuspecting fighters over.

  “Crap. My bad,” I squawk unintelligibly at them over my scaled and spiked shoulder.

  Come on, tail, don’t embarrass us.r />
  But then I see the reason for its wagging. Rook, in all his prison guard glory, is stalking my way.

  I get stuck watching him for a moment, because it’s like one of those slow-mo moves in action movies where the dude walks away from an explosion or some shit. Fire blazes behind him, fights seem to magically part as he walks toward me, and his muscles are bulging with every step and swing of his arms.

  My tail starts thumping so fast, it’s like the bunny’s foot from Bambi.

  “Watch it!”

  I look back and see that my tail almost took out Medusa. Her snakes hiss at me reproachfully. “Sorry,” I tell her, except I say it in cockatrish, so it comes out like, goroshhhhhahissssss.

  She flips me off and then jumps back into the fight, just as Wolfy uses my momentary distraction and attacks me. Fully shifted now, his wolf is a big, ugly motherfucker. He could seriously use a trip to the groomers. Baring his teeth, he launches at me, earning impressive height as he arcs and lands right on me, his teeth latching onto my neck.

  Fucking ouch!

  My cockatrice roars in pain, shaking her head back and forth to try and dislodge him from our throat. But the wolf’s teeth dig in harder, despite the fact that his body is being flung back and forth.

  I try to bend my long neck down to peck at him, but the angle is wrong and I can’t get to him. My arms are now wings, and they’re great for flying but not so much for flexible bending. I’m basically like a hotter, feathered T. rex.

  Since my arms are useless for snatching him off, I take to the air instead. With a powerful sweep, my wings lift me off the ground, and I shoot up like a rocket, hoping the move will catch him off guard enough to let go.

  I fly higher and higher, as fast as I can, feeling the wolf whine against my throat. But just before I can reach the clouds, I slam into an invisible barrier that crackles on contact, and I start falling, dazed from the electrified impact.

  Wolfy’s whines intensify, but after a couple of seconds of free-falling, I manage to shake the stupor off and flap my wings, righting myself in the air.