Power Up: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Supernatural Prison Trilogy Book 2)

by Aella Black

  There was no telling how many gruesome deaths she would experience now that they all knew.

  I had to get her out.

  I had to get us all out.

  12

  Phoebe

  Being killed at Lansing wasn’t any better or worse than being killed at Leavenworth.

  But I’d forgotten how terrifying it could be.

  It happened shortly after the news spread. Now everyone knew I was The Witch’s daughter who could come back from the dead. I only needed one guess who blew my cover.

  Before being hauled away to my sparring match, I’d confronted Lucy about it.

  “You heard everything last night, didn’t you?”

  Lucy sat on her bed cross-legged and brushed her fingers through her blonde hair. “You two weren’t exactly being quiet.”

  I curled my hands into fists and glared at her. “And that gave you the right to tell everyone?”

  She shrugged. “They deserve to know.”

  “And what about my power? Did they deserve to know that too?”

  She cast a withering look in my direction. “So you can come back to life… what’s the big deal?”

  Her dismissal was hard to swallow. I’d never fully trusted Lucy, but I hadn’t expected this. “The big deal, Lucy, is that now I’ve got a target on my back. People talking about who can kill me and how. Strangulation, head bashing, setting me on fire, you name it, I’ve heard it. Why don’t we trade powers and you can see what getting killed feels like.”

  “Someone was going to kill you eventually.”

  I kicked my bed in frustration. “What don’t you understand about dying? Why? Why did you do it?”

  She took a chunk of hair and neatly divided it into thirds before beginning a braid at the base of her scalp. “Thought I should warn the others.”

  “Warn them?” I spat. “About what? I can’t do anything!”

  “Oh, come on.” Lucy dropped the braid she was working on, and her lips curled back in a snarl. It wasn’t a good look on her. “Your mom, the evil witch who tortures us all on a weekly basis, just happens to be the warden? She came to talk to you at night when she thought the coast was clear. Only it wasn’t.”

  “Did you even listen to our conversation? She left me!”

  Lucy kept speaking like I hadn’t said a word. “You haven’t died yet, so obviously something’s going on.” Yeah, dumb luck. “Best-case scenario? You have an advantage because you’re under your mom’s protection. Worst case? You’re a spy leaking information for her to use against us.”

  I threw my head back and groaned. “That’s not even remotely true.”

  “Which part of it?”

  “None of it!” I was losing my cool. Okay fine, I’d already lost it. “You know me. How could you think that?”

  She scoffed. “I barely know you. My own family stabbed me in the back, so why not a cellmate I only just met?”

  I wasn’t going to feel sorry for her. Maybe I would have before, but not now. Lucy had single-handedly destroyed my life.

  A guard had shown up before I could think of some way to make her understand. It would have been a waste of breath anyway, and God only knew how many I had left.

  Tossed into the same sterile room as before, I was forced to face off against a guy who could solidify water with a single touch. No biggie, right? Except the fact that sixty percent of the human body is made up water. Once he drew blood, I was a goner.

  I didn’t even know his name.

  Scientists I’d never seen before crowded around me from the moment I woke up, poking and prodding me, asking questions I didn’t know the answers to. And so it began.

  Except it only got worse from there.

  I walked through the prison in constant fear. Getting caught alone was hazardous to my health. Sticking close to others, a necessity.

  Death threats were an hourly occurrence. My popularity crashed and burned. I was now public enemy number one.

  Only two people stuck around. Cathy, who said she wouldn’t hesitate to shatter some eardrums if someone messed with me, and, to my surprise, Dane. He stuck near my side and told off anyone who dared threaten me to my face.

  And somehow, despite defending me, Dane remained popular among the other inmates. Some of them hung around us, careful not to say anything bad about me while in his presence. But I saw the sideways looks they gave me, the way their lips tightened when they spoke.

  They seriously thought I would report back to my mother about the stupid things they talked about? Like she cared who their former favorite sports team or celebrity was. She didn’t even care about her own daughter.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked him at rec, several days after the nightmare began. He and Cathy were playing a game of checkers while I watched. Both the game and my back.

  “I don’t believe what they’re saying,” he said with a shrug. “You’re no spy. You can’t help it if your mom is a raging psycho. Um, no offense.”

  I cracked a small smile. “Absolutely none taken.”

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about.” He grinned like he’d won a prize. “From where I’m standing, The Witch isn’t giving you any kind of special treatment. And you’re not exactly her biggest fan.”

  That was the understatement of the century.

  “Haven’t been for quite a while,” I said.

  He looked at me with a question in his eyes, but it was Cathy who spoke. “That reminds me, Phoenix. Was your mom still around when you had cancer?”

  Dane gasped. Well, the boy version of a gasp. “You had cancer?”

  I shifted in my seat. “Uh, yeah. Long time ago.” Turning to Cathy, I said, “She took off right after I went into remission.”

  Cathy looked horrified. Dane sounded dumbfounded. “She really is a witch.”

  I looked down at the board, not wanting to see pity in either of their eyes. Fortunately, they took the hint and dropped the subject.

  A short while later, Cathy took her turn, and while she waited on Dane to take his, she began a conversation with me. One he couldn’t overhear.

  “I’m still sorry about Lucy,” she said for the millionth time since she found out my cellmate was a traitor. “And really sorry about your mom.”

  I nodded. She had no reason to apologize, but I understood the sentiment.

  Feeling the weight of a stare, I looked back up. Dane’s gaze was locked on me, and I startled at the intensity of it. Then my gaze skittered away.

  He was sweet, and it was nice to have a guy like him on my side. But—

  “Oh my gosh! Can I be you right now?”

  I shot her a look. Responding aloud was obviously out of the question.

  Cathy’s smile was coy. “What? At least you got a hot bodyguard out of it.”

  My gazed darted back to Dane, whose strong chin rested in his hand while he studied the checkers board like it held the secrets to the universe.

  I really did have a hot bodyguard.

  A small smile was all it took to acknowledge Cathy’s statement and make her deliriously happy. I almost laughed at the goofy expression on her face—almost.

  “I’m sorry Lucy told everyone.” This again? I turned to Dane, who didn’t look deliriously happy right now. “She just wanted attention. She’s been looking for it since she arrived.”

  It sounded as if he were apologizing, which was silly. Cathy and I brought Lucy into the fold, not him.

  Cathy nodded in agreement. “I don’t think she realizes that everyone’s terrified she’ll mess with their brains. I know I am.”

  It made me question why we’d been friends with her in the first place. Maybe we’d unwittingly ‘kept our friends close and our enemies closer.’ But having Lucy as a cellmate was obviously too close.

  I glanced around the room and spotted her a few tables over, gossiping with some other girls. All eyes were on me. Gee, I wonder what they could be talking about...

  “Well, if attention’s what she wanted,
she’s got it now,” I muttered.

  The sound of approaching footsteps caused all three of us to turn around. It was Saul and two other guards.

  “Uh-oh,” Cathy said. “This can’t be good.”

  My heart pounded against my chest. Were they coming for all three of us?

  I knew that wasn’t the case when I saw Saul’s murky brown eyes leveled at me, a smirk pulling at his dry, crusty lips.

  The guards stopped, surrounding me on all sides. Dane stood. “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Phoenix is up for sparring,” Saul said, blowing smoke into Dane’s face.

  My stomach tensed. “What? Why? I just went, so I shouldn’t have to go again for another week.”

  “You can be scheduled at any time. Besides,” he said with a nasty, yellowed grin, “everyone wants to see the great Phoenix rise from the ashes once again.” This last part was said with no small amount of dramatics, causing everyone in the vicinity to stop what they were doing and stare.

  Dane helped me to my feet. “Good luck,” he said and then pulled me into a crushing hug. I was surprised by the gesture, and although I was still freaking out about my impending doom, it felt nice to be held.

  He pulled away and looked me in the eyes. “We will see you tomorrow, okay? Just remember that. No matter what happens today, you’ll be around tomorrow. Cathy and I will be waiting for you.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot,” I said sincerely. Because it did.

  Having support—any support—made a huge difference. Friends who stood beside me through thick and thin had been my lifeline at Leavenworth. And though the number here was far fewer, I’d take whatever I could get.

  Saul gripped my wrist and tugged. “Haven’t got all day.”

  As soon as we were out of the rec room, the other guards peeled off and Saul continued to drag me down the hall. I tried to twist my wrist out of his grip, but he only tightened it. Did he think I would run away?

  “Stop dragging your feet.” He pushed me forward, and I tripped. I would have fallen if his hold hadn’t been so tight. Still, he hauled me back to my feet and slammed my back against the wall.

  It appeared I wasn’t the only one having a lousy day.

  Saul’s face was inches from mine, causing smoke to creep up my nose and sting my eyes. I held my breath, angling my face away from his.

  “You better do what I say, Phoenix,” he warned. Apart from walking too slowly to keep up with his long legs, I wasn’t sure what I did wrong.

  He puffed out a huge cloud of smoke, and I strained my neck even further to the side. Then he gripped my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “I could kill you right now, you know.” As a matter of fact, I did. “And it wouldn’t even matter, because you’d just come back,” he spat.

  Was that his problem? He was resentful of my power? Or was it because it was me that had the power?

  I coughed, and when I did, smoke filled my lungs, causing me to cough again. It made me remember the first time I died in the Fletcher family’s house fire.

  And here I was headed to my…what number was I on? It felt like I’d suffered at least a dozen different deaths by now. Maybe I had.

  Actually, death by smoke didn’t sound so bad. At least I knew what that felt like. “Do it,” I rasped.

  We stared each other down, and for a moment or two, I thought he might.

  Then Saul freed my jaw, pulled me from the wall, and shoved me forward. “Another time, Phoenix. I’ve got a show to watch.”

  My heart sank. I’d still have to fight.

  When I stumbled into the room—a different one than before—a girl with mahogany hair waited for me. If memory served, her name was Kendra. She didn’t look afraid or even tense. She looked ready.

  My mother wasted no time with the introduction, including the side note that this was a fight to the death. She’d barely finished her little spiel when a sharp pain blossomed on my face. I winced, pressing a finger against my cheek, where it throbbed and warmed. When I pulled it away, glistening blood shone on the skin.

  My blood.

  “Lucky me,” Kendra said, but she didn’t sound like she felt lucky. “It’s my turn to get a shot at the Phoenix.”

  Another sharp, stabbing pain, this time across my stomach. I doubled over, pressing both hands where it hurt. Hot liquid seeped through my jumpsuit, staining my hands.

  Without a single touch, this girl could slice me to pieces. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Pushing back the pain, I lunged at her. Swinging a fist, I nabbed her right on the jaw and she stumbled back. Before I could throw another punch, pain seared down my back. I screamed, and a trickle of blood slid down my spine. Unable to reach the wound to staunch the bleeding, I slammed my back against the wall.

  Kendra rubbed at her jaw, satisfaction in her eyes. “Your power is so useless. Almost every one of us at Lansing can destroy you. And they’ll let it happen, won’t they?” She cast a gaze at the mirror. “Because no matter who you’re related to, you’re still a prisoner just like all of us. A science experiment,” she spat.

  I sensed an opportunity. There was no arguing with evil, but I could work with this. Xander had successfully rebelled when they tried to make him fight Cathy. Maybe I could talk some sense into this girl before she ripped me to shreds.

  “You’re right. I am just like you. And everyone else here. We’re all trapped and mistreated and forced to do these stupid fights. Why should we? We don’t owe them anything.” My gaze cut to the mirrored glass. I couldn’t risk removing a hand from my bleeding stomach. “Who says we have to fight?”

  Her eyes flashed. “Uh, they do. So quit yakking, and let’s get this over with.” Another cut slashed, this one across my upper arm.

  My reasoning had been faulty. Neither Xander nor Cathy wanted to fight one another. As long as my opponent was willing to fight, there was no chance of escaping my fate.

  Plus, according to Cathy, Xander was forced to endure Warrick’s torture as punishment for his refusal. Who else would stand against a threat like that?

  No one, that’s who.

  I would have to fight.

  A yell tore through me as I lunged at Kendra, but she cut me across my calf. I stumbled, my face smashing against the floor. Black spots filled my vision.

  Another searing pain rippled along my side. I clutched it, and looking down, I saw my jumpsuit was already soaked with blood. I was going to bleed out. At this point, I doubted there was anything I could do to stop it.

  Kendra crouched in front of me, creating another cut across my cheek, followed by my collarbone. “It’s nothing personal, Phoenix,” she said, her voice monotone. “It’s just how the game is played here. I won’t make you suffer if that’s any consolation.”

  Was she crazy? I was already suffering. As if picking up on my thoughts, Kendra added, “Suffer any longer, that is.”

  A cut stung my wrist. I gripped it, trying to stop my lifeblood from draining out. She looked at me without pity or remorse, but interestingly enough, without an ounce of triumph either. “Yay, I win,” she deadpanned.

  A final cut, this time across my throat. I barely felt the sting, but I felt the hot blood rush out of me right before the edges of my vision faded.

  I looked at the mirror, sending a final blistering look in my mother’s direction.

  No. Not my mother.

  The Witch.

  No mother could stand by and watch their daughter bleed out on the floor when they could have done something to stop it.

  She was officially dead to me.

  Oh, the irony.

  The beeping of a heart monitor greeted me when I awoke.

  My eyes fluttered open to find a scientist busily scribbling down notes. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said cheerfully before clicking her pen. “I’ll be right back, honey. Sit tight.”

  I watched her go and then looked down to see that my arms and legs were strapped down. Where exactly did she think I was going to
go?

  Bandages covered the skin that was visible, reminding me of the gruesome bloodletting I’d endured. I had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but apparently not enough. I still felt like I was a gallon low on a necessary component of my body.

  With nothing else to do, I leaned my head back and cried.

  Not huge, chest-heaving sobs—I didn’t have the energy for those. But tears, one after another after another. They kept falling, as if this death had demolished a carefully constructed dam and now I was overflowing.

  I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. Worse, I wasn’t even able to maintain my dignity and wipe the tears away because I was strapped down. So I just kept crying.

  I mourned the loss of a loving mother I’d never had.

  I lamented that this was my life now. The past already a distant memory, the future as bleak as my father’s predictions for the earth.

  I grieved the deaths I’d suffered and those still to come.

  After the tears dried up, a calm settled over me. I’d heard crying was good for you—released feel-good endorphins, or something like that.

  Closing my eyes, I pictured myself back at the apartment where Dad and I used to live. He was home, reading some scientific journal while I cooked us both dinner. I would tell him dinner was ready at least five times before he finally emerged from extrapolations enough to come to the table. He’d ask about my homework, but it was obvious his mind was still swimming in statistics.

  Back then, I thought life was tough. My biggest concern? Whether I’d have the guts to talk to Xander in AP Human Geography class.

  How naïve I was to the ways of the world.

  The door opened, but I continued to stare at the ceiling. I’d already been drained of blood so they’d better not even think of taking more.

  “You handle death well.”

  My muscles clenched, but I kept my eyes stubbornly focused on the ceiling. She was the last person I wanted to see right now.

  “I hope you don’t think too harshly of Lucy. There are far worse cellmates, I assure you.”

  Forget the ceiling. My gaze snapped down, and I glared at her. Was that supposed to make me feel better?