Prince in the Tower (Royal Scales Book 4)

by Stephan Morse

  “Befriending the enemy.” Daniel’s voice rang through. Muni’s words chased after it. “When the trinket wears off.” A memory from Muni played. Past issues were shoved back into their proper spots.

  Being shot by Daniel had hurt more than attacks from wolves and vampires. Wounds from a Hunter hurt worse than a normal human. I’d been hit by normal humans, wolves, and vampires, and shrugged it off. A through and through wound from Daniel had hit harder than anything I’d experienced in a long time.

  Warden Bennett showed us into a room just like the dozens we had passed walking down here. No matter the floor or race, each cot was the same. There were four beds on two bunks. A pile of thin blankets on each bunk. A crappy metal panel served as a mirror. No window. One light covered the entire cell in a faint yellow. Other cells had curtains, made from the sheets and wedged in the top of their cell doors. No one cared.

  “Here we are.” Warden Bennett stopped in front of a new cell and gestured us in with his clipboard. “The three of you will share accommodations. A reminder of the rules is posted on the wall inside. You’re expected to follow them as part of your rehabilitation. Decide bunk orders on your own.

  “Your schedules are listed on the wall along with a single clock. Destruction of the clock doesn’t change your schedule. Strict adherence is expected. Failure to do so will result in a strike.” He checked the clipboard once again. We were crowded into the cell by three armed guards who stood next to the Warden. “In case I’ve not made it overwhelmingly clear, surviving Atlas is simple. Follow the rules. Those who are unable to do so will not last.”

  “Unless someone else breaks them for you,” Mr. Simms said. I turned briefly to see him behind us, forlorn with eyes cast to the floor.

  “That is also a possibility. Other guests may choose to break the rules. Consider it an exercise in interpersonal relations. Regardless of the instigator, violations of law will result in consequences.” Warden Bennett stared at the three of us as the door slid shut.

  One guard gestured for us to turn our backs to the bars. Mr. Simms went first, making it clear that he’d been through this too many times. The guard undid his cuffs and they clanked free. Leo went next. I moved slower, still feeling sluggish.

  Soon after, our guards left. People grumbled nearby. Some chatted and insulted each other with derogatory names. But since my arrival on this floor the place was never quiet.

  Leo stared at Simms. Simms stared at the ground while breathing deeply. He wore a practically visible sheen of terror only being fought off by a stubborn refusal to recognize the world around him.

  There we stood, the three of us quiet in a sea of noise. People shouted for attention. Every time someone yelled Simms jumped. I didn’t know how to treat the man. Simms was pure human; which meant he was either a dyed-in-the-wool killer, a radical protestor or a sucker in the wrong place with the wrong people—four times in a row.

  How stupid did a person have to be to get sent back to Atlas repeatedly? Even Roy hadn’t dared violate the law enough to deserve this kind of punishment. He’d be pissed once word of Leo’s imprisonment reached Bottom Pit. Especially since it was because of me and a failed rescue attempt. Leo had dared violate Western Sector laws. However, based on my understanding, Leo he hadn’t hurt anyone on the way out. He might be able to leave in a few months.

  “I’ll take the left side,” I said. Dealing with either of them bothered me. People and me needed a comfortable distance of about seven hundred miles.

  Leo shook his head and eyed the right two cots. He said, “Bottom for me. Unless he wants to argue.”

  “God, no. No. Do whatever you want. I’ve been here often enough to know how high on the pecking order I’m not.” Mr. Simms waved.

  It was easy to figure out why a man like Leo might want the bottom bunk. Being stabbed in the back was a tiny bit harder. Leo didn’t claim the spot right away, he went over to the schedule and ran a finger along the text. I saw him squint at the letters, tilt his head, and mouth words.

  I sat on the left bottom cot, knees on the edge of the bed, head against the wall, and tried to clear my mind. Simms and Leo could solve their own problems. I’d look at the schedule after they settled—though it was probably easy to understand. Doors would open, groups of us were allowed into an activity of some sort, making car plates, yard time, cleaning part of the building, whatever it was we were given. Then food and back to work, followed by more food. Finally we’d be shoved back into the cell. Good boys and girls might get to watch television sometime during their day.

  “You go by Mr. Simms?” Leo asked. He wiped the drool oozing from his face with a sleeve. His posture slowly righted itself.

  “Nathan. Or Simms. It doesn’t matter. You?” Nathan Simms lost focus and glanced around nervously.

  “Leo Forge.”

  “His name?”

  Leo at least looked at me before answering right away. Probably trying to see what name I wanted to go by. Now that the memory trinket from Muni was shattered there was little point in mixing things up.

  “Jay’s fine.”

  “Okay. They’ll probably keep us in the same bunk for a while. Normally you’re paired with someone who’s been around longer, but this is my fourth…” Nathan drifted, lost focus for a moment then regained his voice. “Fourth time. I’ll give you a tour.”

  “How’s the food?” Leo asked.

  “Terrible,” Nathan said.

  “Work?” the young man asked.

  “Miserable.”

  Nothing good would come my way. I already had a strike. What would I do for two more? Smarter men would lay low but that tower was stuck in my mind. Not because it was some mysterious piece of my past. Not because it held a special meaning. It was a landmark, unique on the island, and overlooked everything.

  I wanted it.

  Leo continued to pry more information. “Is there anything good about this place?”

  “Most people leave each other alone. No one wants a strike on their record. Unless you do something to piss someone off.”

  “What about wolves?” Leo sniffed in disgust. “Or bloodsuckers?”

  “They’re in groups. There’s always a pack or two but they form based on what part of the Sectors they’re from. Wolves. Wolves generally fight each other, and leave humans alone.” Nathan Simms was trying not to glance in my direction. I’d glanced at him during our escort. Those sheepish eyes and quick expressions led me to a conclusion, that my mere presence made the man nervous.

  Maybe it was the low growling as I contemplated the best course of action. Measuring the value of two more strikes versus this supposed difficulty of going to the wayward side.

  Then those damn bits of memory hit. One more bounced through. An image of the room in Bottom Pit came to life as I stood in the office where I’d seen Boss Wylde. From there I watched fighters battle each other for blood and money.

  A predatory smile made my jaws ache. The fight below had been both satisfying and a disappointment. In the memory I felt hands slide over my shoulders toward pectorals, not dark like Kahina’s, no, these were pale white hands. The flashback abruptly ended while I tried to follow it.

  “When’s food?” I demanded.

  “Dinner’s at seven for our block.” Nathan ran his finger over the schedule. I didn’t know when they’d switched spots. “Oh no,” he said.

  “What?” Leo had recovered his physical acuity quicker than me. His face was still strung out, hair and the tiny series of knots were matted. He hadn’t even changed into the new clothes yet.

  “Block seven. I hate block seven,” Nathan said.

  “Old friends?” I asked with a halfhearted smile.

  “No. Seven is in the middle, we can get yard time during the day or night. That means we’re in the group that tries to rile vampires and wolves. It can be bad.” His words were subdued.

  “It looks like we’ll have a shower first. As a group activity.” Leo sounded disgusted. “Like high school wasn’t
bad enough.”

  I couldn’t figure out why they’d let us wear our clothes at all. Maybe they simply wanted us to have something familiar to return to before taking everything else away.

  No one said much of anything. I worked to remember more details of the brief memory but couldn’t figure out who those fingers had belonged to. It was not the touch of a casual acquaintance. It was intimate and leading. It smelled like burnt cinnamon coupled with rose painted fingernails, and scalding heat.

  In addition, why had I been standing in Boss Wylde’s office like I owned it? I’d felt a sense of possession and ownership. Her office belonged to me somehow. Those memories didn’t rush back. It’d take me time to put it together.

  An hour passed in a blur. Even though the drugs were wearing off it didn’t help my mind at all. Either it would take more time for everything to settle or pieces were missing. Muni told me that suppressing my memories was far too dangerous. Stealing them outright would have been worse.

  A guard rattled the bars. Contemplation of their frailty disturbed the woolgathering. Those slips of metal would be effective against a human, but negligible to anyone with enough strength.

  “Shower time. Bring all clothes with you. Old ones will be turned in, to be returned upon release.” The guard’s voice didn’t waver, but his expression was apprehensive. Ready. One hand rested on his belt. “I’ll be escorting you to your assignments the first day. After that you’re on your own so pay attention.”

  A fellow prisoner made a kissy face through the bars as we walked by.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” The guard ignored him. Simms did his best to be inconspicuous.

  I gave him the best view of my teeth possible. The other man blanched. Someone across the way laughed. Leo said nothing, walking in a cadence too familiar to me. That shuffle, the measured pacing, the way his feet never really lifted off the ground. Abrupt flashes of memory showed the bouncers at Bottom Pit using that same footstep pattern when getting ready to toss an offender out.

  Roy’s son was debating a fight right here and now. I coughed in a barely subtle manner. Leo looked back. I shook my head. His pattern changed almost immediately to a slower more relaxed pace.

  We were ushered into a relatively isolated stall. We were given no privacy. Mr. Simms sighed and stripped, folded his clothes and put them in a cubby hole next to where the guard had stationed himself. Leo and I followed suit.

  The warm water helped wake me then chased away the last bit of shakes and cleaned the remaining barf still riding my face. Even Leo looked a bit better. The orange jumpsuit that’d given us served to drown the tint of his skin.

  I hadn’t noticed it before but Leo’s old clothes were rather clever. A series of lighter tones made the hint of green almost look like a dark tan. Jumpsuit orange and black strips helped distract from his skin color. Maybe I only saw it because I expected it. His eyes were less obvious as well, having that same light-yellow hue.

  Maybe he still wore a trinket from Muni that confused other people. No one asked why the new inmate looked slightly green with yellow eyes. Neither the guard nor Simms commented on the tattoos. They were minimal compared to the ones Roy and Tal had. Leo was younger with fewer achievements.

  Hunters, like that strange lady in the alley with her twins, could see past these charms. Memories flickered by of Daniel words. “Gifts didn’t restrict the Hunter for long.”

  Simms looked like your typical white guy with brown hair everywhere. He had few muscles and no real signs of major physical activity anywhere on his frame. Even his hands were without calluses. The man could be a paper pusher or serial killer.

  The water spraying made it hard to talk so I waited until we were putting on our new clothes.

  “How long, Leo?” I asked. “How long did they give you?”

  “Six months. And a fine.”

  “Does Roy know?”

  “My father was at the hearing. He asked for a heavier punishment.” Leo sounded upset. “He said I needed discipline and a healthy respect for the Law.”

  “Tal? Did he get a funeral?” I asked.

  “We held a wake. They fought over how to handle his remains. Father decided on cremation, he said it was the closest grandpa could get to a blaze of glory.”

  “Yeah.” Being burned to ashes would fit Tal.

  I tried to remember if I’d ever seen a ceremony for the Tribe, but it’d never been shared or was lost in my muddled mind. I could tell you how elven girls celebrated losing their virginity but not how Roy, a man who was essentially family, mourned for the dead.

  In fact most of what I knew was tied to their nature, and the fighting styles. Beyond that there was little ritual carried down the generations. Considering I’d only ever found the ten of them, it was no surprise. Ten people, scattered across the country, could not uphold a tradition on their own.

  Leo asked, “You couldn’t save him?”

  “Maybe.” I wasn’t whole then, and even now it occurred to me how rough trying to heal someone could be. It drained me, drained the subject, and created a bond because of the blood. That bond was a dangerous twisting thing and could change the very nature of someone.

  “He asked me to respect his wishes,” I said absentmindedly.

  Hell. Kahina had had a few doses of my blood. Daniel’s fiancée had some as well. There was no telling exactly how it was impacting their nature. A vampire and a Hunter? Daniel’s fiancée might escape any side effects.

  “Seems a strange time to respect the Tribes’ wishes,” Leo commented to the wall.

  Processing his statement took a bit. Was he talking about being failed during the Trial? Or had I done something else? There had been a swath of people upset over my plans to go into hiding.

  I mulled it over while we continued on to our next location. We moved from the showers, into our distracting faded-orange suits, and down to a smaller mess hall. Leo nibbled at his meal. Simms stared down in depression.

  I ate a bite and almost retched.

  “Canned meat.” Displeasure tainted my words. This was barely real food and another reason to escape. I wanted burned cow.

  “Yeah. It lasts longer.” Nathan briefly chuckled. “The shelf life is higher than those who go to the other side of the island.” He idly ran his utensil over the plate.

  “How long are you in for?” Leo asked me.

  “Haven’t been told. Still waiting for a hearing.”

  Nathan whistled and seemed to pull out of his self-pity. His eyes traveled carefully over my hands, shoulders, taking in my build and probably doing the same mental math I’d been running through my head. There had to be a joke like this. Three men sat at a prison table, a linebacker, an office clerk, and a murderer.

  “You?” I turned the conversation to Nathan.

  “Four months. My lawyer tried to get me somewhere else, but failed. The judge reasoned I’d survived here before, so no other place was suitable.”

  “What for?” I asked.

  “My sister’s husband is a burnout. He keeps draining her.” Nathan managed to get through the admission without a stutter. I would have stuttered, draining anyone repeatedly was nasty. Vampires didn’t have to feed on blood, but they could become addicted easily.

  “You stood up for a woman?” Leo asked. The runt straightened with a bit of respect in his posture and voice.

  If Leo was anything like the rest of his family, the welfare of a woman was paramount. Roy and the rest of his kind had a healthy respect for females. It bordered somewhere between worship and willing to murder if they ever saw actual abuse.

  “I tried. Again. And again.”

  “Surprised he didn’t thrash you,” Leo said.

  “I used a cross. His Tribunal lawyer called it a hate crime. But what else could I do? It was my sister, and I don’t know anyone who could take a vampire in a fight. I certainly can’t.”

  “Sounds like an asshole,” I muttered.

  “Vampires.” Nathan Simms just smiled weakly and sh
rugged. “They get like that.”

  “Burnout? Sure he won’t survive?” I asked.

  “Fairly sure. He has no backing. Our only hope is that he’ll be dead soon. But…” His stress was evident. There was a chance the partial vampire might kill Nathan’s sister before it mattered. Western Sector and the Vampire Council wouldn’t step in until it was murder.

  “And you’re in here,” I said while poking at the slop.

  “Uh huh. Now you know my sob story.” Nathan took a heavy breath and shuddered then attempted a friendly smile. “What about you, Mr. Fields?” Hell. Nathan was prying a bit too hard for someone who’d been around for only a few hours. I felt okay asking about other people, but not sharing my own issues.

  “Mh?” I dug in the food hoping for something edible to be revealed.

  “What are you in for?” Nathan pressed.

  “Depends on how long they were paying attention,” I quipped.

  “Oh.”

  Leo shook his head with a frown. I’d have to talk to Roy about his kid’s grumpy demeanor. Not that I’d expect happiness from anyone in here.

  “He isn’t in here for selling cookies,” Leo said around a mouthful of bread.

  “Well, I didn’t think so. I figured it was something serious. To stand up to Mr. Bennett like that.”

  “Do you really want to know?” I asked.

  “Probably not,” Nathan admitted.

  I told him anyway.

  “Acquiring objects that weren’t mine. Relocating other people’s funds. Assisting the unfortunate with falling onto my fist over and over. Accidentally helping people to stop breathing.” I felt like Julianne for a moment. Her clever way of saying things boiled down to simple words. Theft. Racketeering. Violent beatings. Murder.

  The chain of admissions set me back. I ransacked my recovered memories, and tried to add up the numbers. I’d induced broken limbs, throttled people until they passed out, beaten wolves until they were hanging on by a thread.

  I hadn’t really been a killer until Kahina. Keeping her alive had ended more lives than the rest of my existence put together. Should that thought make me happy?