I’m hollow inside when my next words hit the air. “I was the deciding vote that overruled him.”
Gray balks at me as silence falls on the room. When he finally speaks, it’s with a quiet, “But now you’re in here. Convenient that they would have another vote a month after you were incarcerated.”
“No! The others were resisting him just fine. Father’s persuasive, but the stronger the mind, the harder it is for him to do his thing. There are plenty of stubborn mules on the cabinet. No way would they ever sign a blank bill, and no way would he have enough votes to pass this thing through, if they knew what it was.”
Arlanna covers her face with her hands, her chest shuddering. “That part is my fault.”
Dread curdles my stomach, wondering how things could have possibly gone so very wrong.
22
A Meadow Named Charlotte
Paxton
I back up until my spine hits the wall opposite the door, and then sink to the floor. “My father’s used his magic to persuade the cabinet to sign a blank bill. They would never have agreed to do that. How?” My eyes land on Arlanna. “You say this is your fault? How is that possible? How is any of this possible?”
Arlanna’s still lying down on the bunk she shares with Gray, thank goodness. She’s too injured to be sitting up. “When your father came to visit me to have my picture taken for a Prigham’s promo—this was back before you were incarcerated—he ripped a few strands of hair from my head. Sloan thought he got them all back, but one must’ve been left behind in his pocket. It’s the only thing that could enhance him like that. I don’t understand it myself, but apparently, your dad is crazy to get his hands on my DNA so he can strengthen his own magic that much more.” She swallows hard, and I can tell this whole thing makes her uncomfortable. “Your father was able to control the cabinet because he kept a strand of my hair.”
Gray sits on the floor with his back against the door, his elbows on his raised knees. “Deytant heard him talking about it when the listening device was turned on.”
Several beats of silence fill my ears, making it seem like the entire world has gone still to respect the worst twist I could not have seen coming.
My eyes drift to Charlotte, whose chin is lowered, her small fists clenched in her lap. “You’ll be branded, Charlotte.”
My sweet cellmate is always so cheery. She’s the wave that rarely gets rocked. But this is the thing that bends her and threatens a clean break.
Arlanna grimaces as she tries to get up and comfort Charlotte.
“Lights out in five minutes,” booms the monotonous voice overhead.
Energy ignites like an invisible spark that sets too many things in motion.
Charlotte pops forward, screaming her rage in my direction. “No! They’re not going to brand me! I won’t let them!” Then she turns, the fury in her tearful face deepening, determined to show the world she will not be treated like cattle.
I leap toward her, but Gray is nearer. He jumps up and catches her around the waist. “Easy, Charlotte. They’re not doing it tonight.”
She’s fighting to get loose from Gray with every ounce of energy the little pixie possesses. All four limbs are furiously flinging out while she yells, furious at the world. “They can’t do this! I’m not a murderer!”
“A little help, here?” Gray says to me.
I don’t know how to be helpful, but I do my best to offer her someone at which she can direct her horror. “Talk to me, Charlotte. Tell me how I can help you.”
“Don’t let them brand me! Don’t let them mark me forever! One day, I’ll get out of here, and I’ll never look back. I don’t want to look down at my arm and be reminded of this place! I am not this place! I am not Prigham’s. I am a meadow! I’m a meadow, damnit! They can’t take my visions!”
“That’s exactly what you are. You’re a peaceful meadow.” I catch one wrist that flings out. I’m careful not to pin it down or limit her movements too much. It’s just a suggestion of slowing I offer, weighting her arm with my own. “Tell me about the meadow named Charlotte.”
She tips her head back and sobs. It’s a sound of pure heartbreak that fills my heart and empties it all at once.
My own tears jerk to the surface because, as much as I dreaded everything to do with this bill, I was horrified hypothetically, and from a distance. This is terror up close.
I sniff back my own burgeoning tears and lace my fingers through hers. Father’s always criticized me for feeling too much, for being too sensitive. But I’ve never been able to separate myself from the agony of my people.
Charlotte is my people.
Gray keeps his arm around her waist. “Is there sunshine in your meadow?”
Her other arm drifts downward, forfeiting a fraction of its fight to sadness. “Sunshine that warms your skin and makes your freckles sing.”
I manage a smile through my tears. “How is it you can conjure up something that poetic when the world threatens to crush you? I love it. Is there water nearby? Maybe a stream?”
Gray loosens her grip once her shoulders drop, though he still keeps his arm banded around her waist. “There’s a stream that leads to a pond. The water’s so clear, you can count all the fish as they swim past.”
Instead of gripping Charlotte’s arm, I trill my fingers up to her shoulder, and then brush them down her soaked cheek while she shakes with silent sobs. “I love it. Will you take me there? Can I live in the meadow named Charlotte?”
She closes her eyes and folds her arms around her waist over Gray’s forearm, holding herself together even after she’s completely fallen apart. “I’m not sure the sun shines as brightly now. Maybe night will overtake the meadow.”
It’s too much. I cannot abide this loss of innocence and beauty. I take her hands and wait until she trusts me to move them around my shoulders. When Gray surrenders her to me, I pick her up like the featherweight she is, and sit atop her mattress with her across my lap. Her head rests on my shoulder, my jumpsuit soaking up her tears since I’m without a proper handkerchief to offer this fine woman in clear distress.
I press my cheek to her temple, her arms tight around my neck. “I will not let them take you,” I promise in a whisper.
I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop the guards from branding her when it eventually happens, but as sure as my heart beats, I will not allow anyone to label this sister of mine as a murderer.
She’s not a murderer; she’s a meadow. Can’t they see that?
My promise comes out in a whisper that carries through the cell. “I will find a way to fix this.”
Arlanna manages to sit up, though I wish she wouldn’t try. She should be lying down. “Sloan has a plan. It’s risky, and it might not work, but it’s there. We just need Cass onboard, and we can get started tomorrow.”
Charlotte sniffles as I turn us so I can lay her head down atop her pillow. Her eyes are glassy. “I hate this, and I never hate.”
I hold her hand, knowing the light will go out any second. “I know. We will fight this. I won’t let anyone brand you.”
Her voice turns mousier than usual, which is saying something. “Stay with me? If they come for me in the night, you won’t let them take me, right?”
My chest swells with a newfound pride. No one ever comes to me for physical protection. Political, sure. Social, of course. But when she refuses to let go of my hand, I know nothing could tear me from my sister when she’s this distraught. “Absolutely. Gray and I are your brothers. If I’m here, no one will get to you.” I inch her toward the wall. “See? I’m even physically between you and any intruder. They’ll have to go through me.”
Though I’ve worked out regularly my whole life, I’ve never been called on to protect anyone. I take my new post seriously, and lie down between her and the world.
Charlotte doesn’t cuddle into me the way I’ve watched Arlanna curl around Gray every bloody night, but she holds onto my hand when I pull the covers up over us.
&nb
sp; Her fingers are trembling as she raises her voice to reach our cellmates. “Tell me what the bill is going to be called, so I’ll know it if the guards start murmuring about it. I want to be ready when it’s coming for me.”
I don’t have it in me to say it, so I let that fall to Gray, who shoulders the paternal role we’ve assigned him. “Sloan said it’s to be called ‘Sins of the Mother’.”
My heart sinks as Charlotte’s sobs find her again. Of all the things to scar her, that is the worst.
In this moment, I truly hate my father, and will never be able to forgive him for this particular sin. The world is about to drown, and he’s the one shooting holes in the last remnants of our hope.
23
Underwear Inspection
Arlanna
We are a wall around Charlotte the next day. Paxton put in to switch over to sewing detail first thing. If Cass has been glued to Charlotte’s right side, Paxton has positioned himself to remain at her left. Gray and I sew in silence, catching her eye and giving her bolstering looks whenever she’ll receive them.
We’re making women’s underwear today. It’s the LaPrin, which retails for three-hundred dollars. The thing is almost entirely lace, and Gray’s fat fingers are having a field day with the delicate black material.
“Gentler,” I instruct him, remembering how it felt to slide these up my thighs.
I remember being sexy, once upon a better time. Now I’m regularly in so much pain, I can’t fathom an existence without teeth-grinding discomfort.
I try to keep my focus on the work, hoping it’ll distract from the throbbing. I point to Gray’s project. “And you missed a row of stitches.”
Gray grumbles, half under his breath and half out loud. “These things are ridiculous. They look like they’d tear the second you put them on.”
I keep to myself the memory of the photo shoot I did for these. The ones I wore were gold.
My stomach hurts like I’m coming down with the flu, but I try to keep my mind focused on my task, in hopes that the sewing distracts me from the gnawing ache in my gut.
All morning long, Cass’ mouth has been set in a firm line. Ever since we filled her in on everything over breakfast, I can tell the wheels are turning. She’s not just livid; she’s planning something.
“You’ve got that look about you,” I tell her. “Like you’re about to storm the warden’s office and demand Charlotte’s freedom.”
“I’ve got something else in mind. I’ve decided I’m done making life easy for them,” Cass whispers.
I want to ask her to clarify, but it’s Cass, so she doesn’t need the prodding to make herself plainly known.
“I’ve been practicing honing in my shadowmelding. Making objects vanish completely. While you four have been living it up in your cell, yours truly made her jerk of a cellmate’s pillow disappear last night.”
My mouth hangs open at the change of topic. “What? I didn’t know that was a thing.”
Cass motions toward Paxton. “Our favorite prince mentioned the ancient fae used to be able to cast their magic onto objects, making them vanish. So that’s what I’ve been working on. Not so easy with no instruction manual, but I finally did it. My cellmate was looking for her pillow even after lights out. Serves her right, running her mouth the way she does.”
Gray doesn’t tear his focus from his sewing machine. “What’d she say that irritated you so much?”
“Bitch called me crazy. Can you believe that?”
Gray sniggers, and I try not to smirk. “Uh, yes?”
Cass harrumphs at the both of us, and then motions to the underwear we’re all sewing. “I don’t know about you all, but while we’re waiting on Sloan to show up with everything we need next week, I’m ready to stand up and say no. Natalia’s Secret should be paying freed men and women a livable wage to make these clothes, not using prisoners as slave labor. Today, things are going to change. They’re going to pay for taking advantage of us.”
Gray shakes his head. “Nothing like that, Cass. We have to lay low. No one gets solitary. Whatever plan Sloan comes up with won’t work if we’re split up. I want us out well before the Sins of the Mother bill goes into effect. We can’t risk putting the plan off for a day because someone got themselves thrown in solitary.”
A wicked grin crosses her face. “Oh, I know. Just give me your knickers. The next person who finishes, hand them to me. I’ll take them to the pile at Officer McGregor’s desk.”
I have no idea what Cass is cooking up, but she seems relatively controlled, so I don’t resist, though my mind is spinning with questions.
I switch to the more pressing ones. “If we find a way out, what about everyone else? Are we just going to leave them here?”
Gray kisses my temple. “Sloan said he had a plan for that, but he needs us out first. We’re not about to leave the world broken and pop champagne because we’re safe from it all burning.”
Paxton clears his throat. “Speaking of burning, if someone does come for Charlotte, I need you two to help keep her from being taken. I’ll be too angry, and I don’t want to set some guard on fire by accident. I won’t be able to control my glare.”
Cass lets out a “pfft” sound. “Good. They’ve all got it coming.”
Paxton straightens. “No, they don’t. They’re employees being told what to do. They’re following the snake in the grass because they think he’s leading them somewhere safe.”
“They could quit.”
“Well, if everything goes according to plan, they’ll all soon be unemployed, which is a different, more humane sort of vindication, don’t you think?”
Cass rolls her eyes. “I guess.”
My mouth pulls to the side. “Officer Johnson is here because he thinks it’s unfair, what’s happened to us, and wants to make sure we’re kept safe and treated humanely. Same with Nurse Jen. So if you’re going to light people on fire, don’t pick them.”
I finish the last stitch on my underwear and fold them as we’ve been taught to do. I hand them to Cass, who stands with too much eagerness. I can tell she’s been working on this idea for a while, with how peppy she is as she winds her way through the clusters of desks. “Anyone got any finished knickers to send up to the front? I can take them for you. Oh, it’s no trouble.” It’s the most I’ve ever seen her commit to cheeriness.
She collects forty pairs by the time she reaches the front. I’m not sure how she carries them all with nothing dropping, but she manages (because, again, it’s Cass).
She sets them down on Officer McGregor’s desk, frowning at the huge pile. “Want me to put them in the box for you?”
“I have to inspect them.” It’s literally the only thing Officer McGregor has to do, but he says it like his life is the worst.
“How about I hold them up for you, and once you say they’re good, I’ll refold them and put them in the box. Then you can get back to your book.”
Officer McGregor’s mouth pulls to the side. “Sure. Man, I’m tired. Meetings all night. Cheers. Alright, first pair.”
The process is tedious, and I try not to stare. I mean, it’s just the officer inspecting the underwear and Cass folding them, then putting them away for him. I keep a circuitous eye on the two while I continue sewing my next pair. Cass gets through the forty and then makes another round, filling box after box with the standard two dozen per package that usually complete the cardboard containers.
“What’s the plan?” Paxton mouths, but Charlotte merely shrugs.
The only oddity I notice is that Cass places her hands over each box after she tapes it up. She closes her eyes and rolls her neck like she needs a good stretch. It’s such a nothing event, but I catch the strange tick she does every time.
I’m too aware, and I need to calm it all down. But I can’t stop watching. I have to know what she’s up to, and what her plan is to get back at the people who take advantage of our incarceration.
She’s packaged fourteen boxes for Officer McGregor by t
he time the bell rings to dismiss us. We’re all anxious for answers, but she simply grins, like she’s the happiest villain who’s ever lived.
24
No More Denial
Arlanna
When we get into the chow line, Cass still won’t reveal her plan, instead opting to wait until we’re seated. Then she goes about making this big production of eating her food, chewing slowly while we pepper her with a thousand variations of the same question.
Despite the ache in my stomach and the stiffness limiting every inch of my body, I’m dying to know what it is she’s up to. Teaching Natalia’s Secret a lesson could entail any number of mischievous scandals.
Cass grins at her own cleverness, and the fact that she’s got us all leaning forward and hanging on her every word. “Oh, that? I was just sending a little message to Natalia’s Secret. They won’t be getting any more free labor from us. In fact, we’re about to become a money pit.”
“What are you talking about?” Gray holds up his finger. “I pricked myself four times this morning. That’s plenty of free labor they’ve gotten so far.”
“Yes, but when the boxes arrive, they’ll be surprised to find all the thread’s gone missing. The fabric is there, all cut and ready for use, but the thread has been melded into the shadows.” Her fingers dance mischievously, like a magician who’s charmed her audience with a trick.
Paxton massages a kink in his shoulder. “They’ll just send back the pieces to be redone.”
“Nope.” Cass grins. “I couldn’t vanish the thread perfectly without disappearing a little of the fabric it was attached to. I’m still working on fine-tuning my craft, but I don’t so much mind the margin of error with this.”
Sins of the Mother: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrificed Book 2) Page 14