Dark Fae Penitentiary: First Transgression

by Nala Kingsley

  Too bad there had to be a post-Zoth.

  I never should have wasted a single second on that fucker.

  “We haven’t given up on you,” Drake protests weakly.

  “Oh, yes, of course not. You just hesitated majorly before saying that, and instead of anyone trying to help Pyra and the others with their issues, you just shove them into their cells or into solitary confinement. That’s it. No rehabilitation. How many leave who aren’t in a body bag?”

  Neither of them says anything.

  “It’s not your fault, you tell yourself,” I continue. “It’s the warden’s call who stays, who leaves. It doesn’t matter if there’s violence inside the walls so long as the rest of the world is kept safe from us dark fae. We’re so very evil, but maybe no one is born evil. Maybe evil is created by experiences and circumstances. Maybe people can come back from evil.”

  “Do you think Spring can come back?” Drake asks.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Don’t lie to yourself, darling,” Trevan says dryly.

  I flush. “Most likely not, but some of the others, maybe.”

  “Rosa? Who wants to kill you because of talking to Spring? Pyra would burn you to ashes and set your ashes on fire if she could. Violet would probably like to have you kill your twin and then yourself. But they’re just a few conversations away from being productive members of society,” Trevan says.

  I step right up to him and stare up at him. “Go ahead and underestimate them, but don’t you dare underestimate me.”

  “You’ll bring this entire place down on its knees, won’t you?” Drake asks.

  “If I have to, I will.”

  22

  Trevan bursts out laughing at my declaration, and I’m ready to deck him, but he just shakes his head.

  "I have no doubt you'll try to, but Dark Fae Penitentiary has been in place for much longer than Light Fae Academy. If that doesn't tell you about the state of dark fae, then nothing will. This place has been running for thousands of years."

  “And it needs updating at the top,” I say firmly.

  “She’s got sauce,” Drake murmurs.

  “Fire,” Trevan agrees.

  “And a bit of ice too,” I finish. “Now, I’m sure the bell rang. If we stay in here much longer, I would really prefer to do something that would give them something to talk about.”

  I wiggle my hips a bit.

  Trevan and Drake exchange a look.

  “I’ll take her back,” Trevan says.

  “I can.”

  “Now, boys, there’s no reason to fight over me,” I tease.

  “We aren’t fighting,” Trevan says.

  “Because if we did, you know I would win,” Drake says.

  “Says you,” Trevan retorts.

  I glance back and forth between them. “I almost want to watch this fight,” I say. “Especially if your shirts were off and it took place in a mud pit. Roll around in the muck, get all hot and bothered and dirty, and then skinny dip naked in a pond. We can lay out and sunbath and—”

  Trevan eyes Drake. The dark redhead nods.

  “Fine, but are you sure you want to stay in that cell with Spring?” Drake asks.

  "Do I want to? No, but Trevan has a good point. That won't save me. The target's already on my back. I'm screwed either way and not in the way I want to be." I huff a sigh as if I'm exasperated.

  I’m not. Spring will have to be dealt with eventually. As much as I would like to ignore her and try to escape this place before things come to a head between us, I’m not naïve enough to think that’ll be the case.

  Trevan slowly leads the way toward my cell. Neither of us is walking quickly, and we haven't reached the area yet where the cells are.

  I tap my hip against his. “So, have you given it any more thought about my getting a job in the kitchen?”

  “Do you honestly think inmates are just given jobs here?”

  “I guess not,” I mumble. “We aren’t even allowed outside.”

  “It’s unnerving to realize that Spring’s been able to read minds all along,” Trevan mutters.

  “If she read your mind when you were thinking about me, what would she find out?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He smirks at me.

  “That might be why I asked.”

  “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

  “That’s not how things are supposed to go,” I protest. “You ask a question. You get an answer. How about this? I ask a question. You answer, and then you ask me a question.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  We turn and head right toward the cells.

  I glower at him and then allow him to go first so I’m following him like a good, dutiful inmate would.

  There are rows and rows and rows of levels of cells. I’m on one closer to the bottom. I have no idea how many cells there are in here, but for the most part, it seems like there are only females on this side.

  Most ignore us, but several inmates whistle and call out to Trevan. Not all of them are flirting. There’s one who goes on a rant, screeching and raving about something. She’s so upset that I can’t even understand what she’s saying. I wonder if I’ll remember to ask Trevan what that’s all about, but he might not even tell me. As much as I want to recruit him for Team Bay, I really don’t know all that much about him. I don’t know why he’s a guard, what he wants out of life, all of that. If he has any siblings, if he wants to become warden one day…

  Normally, I don’t want to know every detail about the guys I’m interested in, but now, after Zoth, I want something real. I don’t just want to fuck and be fucked. I want something more.

  When we arrive, Spring’s standing right by the door. She’s basically blocking my way into the cell.

  "Spring, step back, please."

  “Trevan,” she coos. She fluffs her green hair. “It’s so nice to see you. It’s been too long since you and I—”

  “Spring,” Trevan warns. “You need to step back.”

  “Please don’t interrupt,” she says lightly. “Can I finish?” Her gaze flicks to me, and she smirks. “Remember that time when you and I went into the supply closet? We made some memories there, didn’t we? How about you and I go back there again?” She licks her lips. “I’m a bit… thirsty.”

  “Spring, if you don’t step back, I will do something you won’t like.”

  “But I like pain.” She winks. “And I know you like to inflict it.”

  I tell myself that I don’t care. Trevan’s a grown man. He can do what he wants with who he wants, but I didn’t think he would with a prisoner.

  Yet I want him to with me.

  I am still so fucked-up in the head yet.

  I’m selfish, self-centered, self-serving… I want what I want, and I don’t care who I have to use.

  But that’s just it. I do care, and I don’t want to use anyone. That’s why I want to get to know Trevan and Drake. It’s not because I want to make certain they won’t rat me out and make it impossible for me to escape. Yes, they’re all hot, and I’m attracted to them, but I think they know and understand the situation. Maybe they’ll be willing to help me out, and we can figure out a way that they won’t have to risk their jobs. Though, how anyone can want to work here long-term is beyond me. This place is terrible.

  Trevan scowls. “I am going to count to three, and if you haven’t moved back by then, you’ll get the Depressed Falicious Root.”

  I frown. I’ve never heard of that before, but Spring’s porcelain skin pales significantly.

  Without a word, she slides back, but before the cell door can click open, she blurts out, “You would poison your one-time lover, huh?”

  “Spring, we never—”

  “Don’t you dare!” she shrieks. “We did. We did, and it was magical, and you said—”

  The cell door opens, and I enter, inching around Spring, not wanting to have to be locked in here when she's s
o filled with wrath.

  Thanks, Trevan.

  I glare at the guard. A part of me wants to read his mind, but I don’t know if I can, and it might not be a good idea for me too. What if he’s remembering that time he had with Spring? I don’t want to know the details.

  “You said—” Spring starts again.

  “Spring, I suggest you keep your thoughts, words, opinions, hands, everything to yourself,” Trevan says, “or else I will get that root for you. You remember what happened the last time you had it, don’t you?”

  Spring says nothing. She’s standing perfectly still, like a statue. No. Her hands. Her arms are dangling by her sides, and her fingers are twitching. It looks like an involuntary movement.

  I glance between them. Something unspoken is going on between them, and I feel like a third party. Geez. Here I thought Spring flung herself at him before just because she thought he might be eyeing me, but no. They actually had a past, and it seems to have ended badly. Not that that’s surprising, but I really shouldn’t consider doing anything sexual with any of the guards. It’s not worth it to get my heart involved. So long as I can get out of here. That’s all I’m after. Once I’m free…

  Then what? I won’t really be free. I’ll be on the run if I escape. What kind of life will that be?

  I’ve had no luck whatsoever trying to come up with a feasible escape plan. Maybe I won’t be able to unless I have some of the guards help me, but I don’t know if I’m willing to potentially ruin their careers just so I can be somewhat free.

  Maybe it would be better if I just serve my time, get on the warden’s good side, and—

  From what I’ve heard about the warden, he doesn’t have a good side, and if I try to create one, I’ll just get on his radar, which won’t help me any.

  Even if I can recruit the three hot guards to be on my side, I still don’t know if I’ll be able to get out of here anytime soon.

  Still, I refuse to let there be a raincloud over my head. I’ll survive this. A life on the run isn’t what I want for my future anyhow. I’ll figure this out, and soon enough, I’ll be living life on my terms.

  I hope.

  23

  My thoughts have completely taken me out of the present so much that I didn’t even realize until now that Trevan’s walked away. It’s not until Spring slowly sinks to sit on the edge of her bed that I realize she seems to be in shock.

  I place a hand against the wall and lean on the stone. “What’s the root?”

  “What?” she mumbles, not lifting her gaze from the floor.

  “Depressed Falicious Root.”

  “What about it?”

  “What is it?”

  “A root. Duh,” she says, but she’s not snippy. Her tone is flat, and it makes me a bit anxious. Spring’s always been emotional, even before when we were friends. When she was high, she would not stop laughing. She was always so happy then, flying about, bumping into things, living large.

  “I realize that,” I say dryly, trying to keep my tone light. “What does it do?”

  “Pray to the sun you never have to find out.”

  My hand goes up, and my fingers caress the moon on my choker. “I’m sorry you know what it does.”

  “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” Spring blinks and shakes her head before dropping her head so low that her green hair falls forward to cover her face entirely. Her shoulders shake.

  Is she crying? I’m not sure why, but I feel bad for her. It’s easy enough to have compassion for Pyra. She’s just a kid, and she’s been dealt a wing of a bad turn, but Violet, Rosa, even Spring… they’re all fairies. They all have stories. Their own actions have brought them to be here, yes, but those actions have been colored by their experiences, by the people in their lives. People have hurt them, failed them, and yes, what they did was inexcusable, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t learn, change, and adapt. They can make better choices and become better fairies.

  Not that better necessarily means lighter. There’s nothing inherently evil about being dark. A balance is best, yes. Honestly, being entirely light would have to be boring as fuck.

  Spring’s shoulders are shaking. Is she crying?

  Do I care?

  I do. Maybe Rosemary’s rubbing off on me more than I would’ve ever though because I’m certain my twin wouldn’t hesitate to comfort Spring even after everything the fairy had done.

  Slowly, I ease myself over to sit next to her. She doesn't react as I put an arm around her shoulder. I gently shift her toward me, and she continues to cry, this time leaning on me as if she can siphon some of my strength.

  I want to say something. I should say something, but I don’t know what to say. Spring hurt a lot of people, but unlike the other prisoners I spent time with, Spring didn’t actually kill anyone. Her actions had been selfish and self-serving, and who understands that better than me?

  “Sometimes, it’s so easy to think about ourselves and put ourselves first,” I murmur. “I’m guilty of it. I want the most out of life, and I… I don’t always care what happens to others. It’s wrong and selfish of me…”

  She sniffs but doesn’t say anything. Is she almost done crying? I can’t tell.

  I continue to talk to her softly, talking about myself, not once mentioning her even though everything I’m mentioning does apply to her too.

  “It’s strange. I don’t want to be the same fairy I was on the outside, you know, before coming here,” I murmur. “I want to change. What about you, Spring? Do you still want to be the same fairy?”

  “I…” Spring pulls away and sits up straighter. For a long moment, she stares straight ahead at my bed, but I wonder if she can even see it. With a strange, jerky movement instead of fluid grace, she wipes the tears away but only from one side of her face.

  “You don’t have to talk.”

  “Will you shut up, Rosemary, and let me think?” she snaps.

  I’m not sure which is worse—her spiteful, hateful tone or her calling me Rosemary.

  “You ruined my life, Rosemary, and if I ever get out of here—”

  “Spring, I’m Bay. You know that.”

  Slowly, with that strange jerky movement, she faces me. Her smile is terrible, full of malice, yet I feel no fear.

  If she wants to try to fight me, I’ll fight back.

  “If I ever get out of here, Bay, I’ll hunt Rosemary down and kill her.

  Correction. If she wants to try to fight me, I’ll fight back and if it’s to the death, if it means I never get out of here, then so be it. The kid gloves are off now that she’s threatened my sister.

  “You do realize that you aren’t ever going to get out of here, don’t you?” I ask her.

  “What are you going to do? Ensure that?” Spring snaps. “You going to let me kill you so that my wings will never see the light of day again?”

  I’m not comfortable sitting next to her anymore, but I also don’t; want to look like I’m running away. This is a very dangerous game I’m playing. Spring is a ticking time bomb, and I might’ve lit the match.

  She might not have killed anyone yet, but she definitely has the willingness to, and not just Spring.

  I stretch and stand, trying to make the movements seem natural. “Go ahead and come at me. I don’t care, but, Spring…”

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

  “Not even that I’m sorry? Because I am.”

  “Don’t play me.”

  “I’m not. I had no idea you were hurting so much. If I had, I wouldn’t have gotten you the fairy dust.”

  “I needed it for my sanity, remember?” she asks through gritted teeth.

  “Yet, the fires… you set them because of the fairy dust.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it,” she hisses.

  “Fuck it isn’t. You know full well that the first time you set something on fire was hours after you learned about your mom’s release.”

  Spring grits her teeth. “She’s lucky sh
e’s not in here.”

  “Why didn’t you just go after her?” I ask.

  Spring lowers her head.

  "I know it's not easy for you to talk about, and you probably hate that you told me about everything that happened between the two of you, but, Spring, we really were good friends at one time." I hesitate and then add, "Or at least we were on my side."

  Spring bares her teeth. “I don’t want to talk about her. Not now. Not ever.”

  “I understand. I just can’t believe that your mom abused you.”

  “Bay, don’t push it.”

  “Why the hell was she ever released?” I continue. “I’m glad that not all fires can conjure magic. Can you imagine if Pyra could? But your mom could.”

  Spring rubs a spot on her arm, and I wonder if that’s one of the areas on her body that her mom had burned and then healed so no one would realize.

  “Our parents are supposed to love us, to teach us, to help us become the fairies we’re meant to be,” I add softly. “Your mom failed you on so many levels.”

  “What if she didn’t?” Spring asks, her tone just as soft. “What if I was supposed to become this fairy? What if nature always intended for me to end up here?”

  “Spring, no. This doesn’t have to be how your story ends. You can do better, be better. You can move mountains.”

  “Move them to drop on top of others,” she mumbles.

  “You and Pyra should be the best of friends,” I say. “Maybe you two can help each other—”

  “I’m not interested in helping others, and I don’t want you to try to help me either. I am what I am, and I’m not about to change for the better. You can stop and leave me alone, Bay. I’m not a project. I don’t need fixing.”

  “Spring, I’m not trying to change you. I just want to give you hope.”

  "Hope? What, that tomorrow will be better? Not fucking likely, and why are you the happiness goon? You aren't exactly living life at large now, are you? No. You're in the same boat as me, and we're spiraling down the drain. Neither of us has our lives going in the direction we want, unless you just got tired of fucking all of the guys at Light Fae Academy and decided to fuck your way through the guards here. That your angle?"