by Skyler Andra
“Just let me stretch for a few minutes.” I motioned for Shian again. A hand signal of three curled fingers while I held out my thumb and pinkie. Code for I needed to make a call. I made another signal with my thumb, jabbing it over my shoulder. A request for a distraction.
Shian nodded and said something to his crew. As a group, they moved forward, heading in my direction.
I stretched my other leg, waiting for them to give me the break I needed.
One of Shian’s crew bumped his shoulder into a passing inmate. He spun and shouted, “Watch where you’re going, huh?”
The group circled, and Ben took his baton from its pouch.
Time to go. I slipped out, making my way down a few halls, stopping to slide in between two stone columns where the cameras didn’t reach. There I opened the package to check the contents.
Fuck. My shoulders sagged. Goblin ball sacks. Seriously? Got you high as kite when dried and smoked. Common and easy to get. Wouldn’t catch much of a price. Definitely not enough to pay for my niece and nephew’s expenses and my mom’s medical bills. But better than nothing.
Disappointed, I shoved the bag in my pocket, and continued on to the phone room. Fuck. Ten people waited in the queue ahead of me. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Not enough time to make this quick and get to the warden’s office before they tracked my bracelet to this room and sent me back to solitary confinement. But I had to let my sister know I couldn’t pay for whatever Molly had going on this month—dentist, was it? Shit, it had only been a week and I’d forgotten.
Growing desperate, I motioned to Brian, the guard on duty who owed me a favor after losing to me at poker last week. He pursed his lips and waved me ahead in the queue.
The guy next in line complained. “I’ve been fucking waiting for thirty minutes.”
“Shut your trap,” Brian said in his thick northern English accent. “Or I’ll make you wait another thirty.”
“Fuck you.” The inmate slammed his hand against the wall.
“How about some goblin ball sacks?” I asked him to placate him.
The inmate perked up, back straightening, eyes lighting up with some twisted, dirty desire I didn’t want to think about. “All right. But don’t make this a fucking habit.” He added emphasis with a stubby, jabbing finger.
“Deal.” That was how you did it folks! I held out my hand, and he shook it. With a nod, I entered the booth, grabbed the phone receiver and sat down to dial my sister’s cell phone.
“Hello,” Janet answered, sounding as exhausted as ever. “If you’re calling to sell me something, then get lost.”
“Love you too, sis.” I smiled.
She chuckled. “Fuck, sorry, Tor. These telemarketers are driving me crazy.”
“Hey,” I said. “I’m selling siren porn for two-ninety nine per minute. Buy now and you get a free colored siren wig.”
She laughed, a big, honking guffaw and snorted. At least, she got my humor. It didn’t get many laughs in this place. God, it was good to hear and reminded me of home, of spending birthdays and holidays together. And I liked to bring her a smile when she’d had a shit day.
“Hey Molly, Jack,” my sister said. “Uncle Tor’s on the line.”
“Uncle Tor!” I had my own little background cheering section. “When are you coming to visit us?”
My chest clenched, and I squeezed the receiver. I had to pull it away as I sucked in a breath and hiccupped. When I calmed myself, I brought it back to my chin. “Soon.” My voice came out choked. “Real soon.”
“Hey why don’t you guys go draw Uncle Tor a nice picture?” Janet suggested.
“Yeah!” Their excited shouts bellowed down the line.
I held my breath. I missed them so much.
“Thank you for Jack’s birthday present,” Janet said. “You spoil them.”
I’d sent it a few weeks ago. Glad it arrived on time. If only I could have been there in person. The tightness in my chest moved up to my throat, and I struggled to swallow.
“Someone has to.” I bit my lip then chewed on my nail.
Molly and Jack’s father had left when Molly was twelve months and hadn’t paid a lick of child support since. Janet had married young and left her nursing job to raise her kids. After five years not working, she couldn’t get back in without training, and she couldn’t afford the rent, food, bills and childcare to go back and retrain.
I kicked the wall, fighting the urge to bust out of here, find that prick and shake him down for leaving those kids.
“Er…listen.” I didn’t know how to say this. Couldn’t find the words.
“It’s okay if you can’t send us anything this month.” Fuck, she knew me too well.
“I’m sorry. Something came up. Damned car transmission broke, and I had to replace it.” My throat stung with the lie. Lie after lie.
“Life,” she said, sounding a little disappointed, but accepting.
I changed the subject because it was killing me inside to let her down but I couldn’t let her get off the phone. “How’s mom?”
The line went quiet. “She had a fall last week and got admitted into hospital.”
I stood straighter and pressed my fingers to the wall. “Is she okay?”
“She’s going to need a motorized wheelchair soon.”
I leaned my head against the cold stone. Fuck. My mom had Multiple sclerosis, a diseased that caused nerve damage, and over the years, she had lost her coordination and needed a walker to support her on her feet.
I clenched the phone so tight I thought I’d crush the plastic. “I’ll send more money when I can.”
“No, Tor.” Janet’s voice adopted a husky edge. “You already send enough.”
They were my family and I’d do anything for them. They were the reason I sold contraband. But I needed more. A lot more. More expensive items required decent trades, and I was low in that, after the warden’s last raid, finding my stash in the wall behind the laundry shelves.
Fuck. I needed a new mission on a gantii realm. To collect something like ivory from dead unicorn horns, which sold for a fair price when ground into a powder and used for spells. Quetzalcoatl venom fetched a nice price on the black market. But they were harder to trade. The Guardians ran a strict operation and inmates on missions had to return on time or risk punishment or points deducted from their contracts.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get more.” I didn’t know how or when, but I was determined.
Someone yanked the door to the booth open and leaned in to grab the receiver out of my hand and slam it down.
“What the fuck?” I was about to punch first and ask questions later when I spun to face Ben. Red-faced with an armor-piercing stare.
He gripped my arm and dragged me along with him.
Time to see the warden. Goodie.
***
It seemed like I’d been in this office a lot lately. Pulled up for every little thing. For not recharging my veil amulet crystal. For not collecting the right herbs for missions. For basically breathing. I admit, fucked up with Supergirl. But only because everything I did was wrong, and I couldn’t put a foot right with Knoxe lately.
Knoxe stood, legs wide, arms crossed, next to the warden. He bandied his usual glare, packed with the same hostility as the glaring red eyes of the Mothman. Supergirl sat in the chair beside me in Knoxe’s office, twisting her fingers, waiting in silence. Neither of us looking in the other’s direction.
Sick of his glare, I scanned his office. He’d changed his office since I’d last been here a month ago. Removed the board of pictures of Jaz and the rest of the team, hanging out, drinking, playing touch football on the beach. Taken down his autographed framed print of his favorite football team. These were the only reminders of home, of the Shadows, of our freedom before we were locked up in this godforsaken hellhole. Replaced these with a bookshelf filled with rule guidebooks, WHS manuals, and management self-help books.
Boring. The feeling of this space made me think mor
e of the office of a military man, a place arranged without decoration and more for efficiency than for expression. A place to wipe away his memories.
The warden cast his stern gaze. Posture rigid, face tense, he had a way of saying shit without speaking a word, and he was pissed. We waited for him to deliver his latest disciplinary action. God knew I needed more on top of the one I already had. But, distributing the parcels to inmates wasn’t so bad. I could sneak in my comics and other contraband, earning me favors from the other prisoners and a shit load of xantha to trade in.
I glanced across at Supergirl. Honestly, I thought she’d realize I was having her on. Come on! Everyone knows high-pitched sounds make a mothman go berserk. What were the Shadows teaching their Guildlings? I’d only pranked her to test how smart she was about the gantii.
Something about the way Vartros glanced at Knoxe, the pity flashing in his eyes, then at Supergirl, erasing the harsh lines in his forehead, told me he was about to go easy on them. But when his hard eyes landed on me, I knew I was in deep crap. He’d never liked me, or anyone else who gave him trouble, and I gave him a plenty.
My lungs froze, waiting for the words. You’re cellbound.
But instead, he delivered a different punishment. “Tor, this is your second strike. You’re already on disciplinary action. Failure to comply with the prison’s rules has cost you another hundred credits to your tally. Next time, you’ll get five hundred.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, shaking my head. It was bad enough that I’d be here five years longer than the rest of the team, but he’d just added another year. I’d be a fucking old man before I got out of here.
“For this latest recklessness,” said the warden, “you can both reorganize the magic storage room and take inventory as well as be locked down in your cell at 7PM for the next two weeks.”
Pretty lame discipline if you asked me, but I’d take it over being cellbound or having to clean toilets any day.
The warden slid a clipboard across the table, numbers and names of herbs, and other items. “Don’t even think about sneaking anything from the supplies. I know you trade in that shit, and I’ll be checking the before and after inventory.”
Don’t you worry, I’ll be sneaking some spirits to wash this shitty day away. I didn’t care anymore.
Astra bent her head. “Yes, sir.”
I didn’t even bother to reply.
“You’re dismissed.” I wanted to tell everyone to go screw themselves as the warden exited.
This was all a misunderstanding. An innocent little joke. Something to make the team smile. Heck, I knew we lost our gantii. But we were superheroes, for God’s sake. We always caught our bad guys in the end.
I snatched up the clipboard and got to my feet, moving to the door. On my way, I caught a few of the titles on the spine of Knoxe’s books. Super Motivator – 9 Powerful Ways to Motivate Your Team. And the next one: My Colleague’s Just Not That Into Me – Tales to Help Bond with Teammates. This wasn’t a funny moment, but I pursed my lips to hold back a smile. If I was going to be ass-fucked for my punishment, I may as well go out with a smile, eh?
“Nice titles.” I flung the door open. “Happy reading asshole.”
The bite in his words shredded my heart. “I’ve lost count of how many second chances we’ve given you. So, help me, if your powers didn’t make you halfway useful sometimes, I’d put your ass out on the curb for good.”
Fuck him.
I didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Knoxe’s words had punched the air out of me. Otherwise, I would have told him to stick it.
Nowadays, it felt like the team didn’t mean anything without Jaz, as if he was the fabric that held us together. Mine, Raze’s and Pascal efforts and contributions meant nothing. Made the rest of us feel like shit. But we didn’t say anything. We’d only get our heads bitten off by Knoxe if we did.
Our leader still grieved. What he failed to recognize was that we all did, too. Me, more than anyone. It was my fault Styx killed Jaz. We were joking around, distracted, when the bloody vamp came out of nowhere and grabbed him. I would’ve done anything to bring him back, even if it meant sacrificing myself. Because of my mistake, I was heading towards being cellbound in maximum security.
We needed our leader back. We needed our friend. We needed to stick together when shit got rough, not fall apart. I’d already lost hope of ever winning back Knoxe’s trust. He spent every day on my case, nit-picking about little things, always telling me I didn’t do anything right. It was like he didn’t trust me anymore, and that killed my confidence. I didn’t know what to do. Being myself irritated him more, and I felt like a piece of shit. So I compensated harder with more jokes to hide my grief and failing hope.
“Hey,” Supergirl said from behind me. “That was harsh and unnecessary.”
Ballsy. After landing her in disciplinary action, she still had the lady balls to stand up for me. I was impressed. No one dared stand up to Knoxe when he was like this when it just made him moodier. This wasn’t the guy I’d trained with. He’d changed into some kind of beast like the things we caught and imprisoned.
I turned, Knoxe had turned on her. “As for you… fuck up again, and I’ll send you to Devon’s team.”
Fierceness snapped across her expression. “You’re an asshole.”
Knoxe glared at Supergirl. “Wanna know why I’m such a hardass? Styx killed Jaz right in front of us. Just like that.”
He snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she flinched.
“No one else is dying on my watch,” he growled. “So if that means you train harder, you will train harder. We’re gonna do our job and find all of his bloodsucking underlings and bring them to justice. But we’re going to make Styx pay for what he did to Jaz. We’ll send him back home in chains.”
Supergirl scowled back.
Knoxe shut his eyes and hung his head. This next barbed and pointed part was meant for me. “Without any fuckups. Do you hear me?”
She shook her head, muttering as she hurried out, casting me an evil eye as she brushed past.
I couldn’t look at Knoxe as I trudged out of his office. He was right about me. And I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself. The prison psychologist said I hid my pain behind my humor. That I self sabotaged because I believed I was a screw up. Well I was. My high school sweetheart got raped when I wasn’t there. Years ago I had a car accident when I was driving recklessly and I almost killed my dad. He died from complications from that same accident. Then my stuff up lead to Jaz’s death. People got hurt or died when they were around me.
Out in the hall, Supergirl leaned against the wall, anxiously curling her hair around her finger.
“This way.” I waved her to the right.
She sighed and mumbled, “I can’t believe this is how I’ll remember my first week as a Guardian.”
“I’m sorry I got you in trouble,” I started, actually sorry.
She held a palm up. “Not one word from you, Mr.”
“Then how will we complete this task?” I asked as we passed the training rooms and gym.
“Shhh.”
“Did you just tell me to shh?”
She covered her ears and hummed to herself.
Seriously? I huffed and pumped my legs, pushing forward. Let her keep up. Her footsteps quickened as she struggled to match my stride. I passed the weapons storage and forge, before arriving at the storage room.
In the front part of the chamber, Potion Masters prepared the herbal mixtures we used in the field. I moved to the back of the space where the ingredients were stored. The dark room smelled like herbs, alcohol preservatives, iron shavings and salt. I flicked the lamp on. Floor to ceiling drawers with signs indicating what each held. Garlic cloves hung from stringed bunches dangling from the ceiling. Tubs of salt lined another wall. Shelves housed jars of various items, including candles, crystals, flower petals and various incenses.
Supergirl stopped beside me. “It’s bigger than the one back home.”
She glared at me. “I was talking to myself.”
I sighed and checked the list.
First line: Dragon thistle. I moved down the aisle. They stored the herbs in alphabetical order.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Just keep ignoring and glaring at me.” I was damned well sick of everyone treating me like a naughty child. “You’re cuter when you’re angry.”
She puffed out her cheeks. But then her eyes softened, and she pulled her chin back. Hmm. Disarmed by my compliment. She quickly returned to scowling again.
“Check that drawer.” I pointed to the row third from the left. “For the Dragon Thistle.”
I leaned against the wall and my gaze drifted south to the smooth curves of her ass which wiggled as she moved. She bent to slide open the draw and peered in it. All my blood rushed to my own southern borders, and my pants tightened. I imagined taking her ass in my hands, squeezing it, slapping it, sinking my teeth into her flesh, and biting hard enough to leave marks.
I’d thought she was cute and sassy when we’d first met. When she’d thumped me at the school, my opinion of her had changed. I liked my women with a mouth on them. One who could stand up to me. Her hotness factor dialed up a couple of notches.
“Three stalks,” Astra said.
“I know where I’d like to put my stalk,” I mumbled, still watching her and not paying attention.
“What?” Her brows scrunched.
Shit. Did I say that out loud?
“Check.” I exaggerated the motion to record the data on the sheet.
“What’s next?” She dusted her hands, glancing around, like she wanted to get out of here fast and put some distance between us.
You and me in my room all night to sort out this mothman business the hard way. Me kissing her until she begged me to stop. Her going all dominatrix on me, tying me to my headboard, straddling me, whipping me, twisting my nipples, slapping me. I liked it when it hurt. I spent my days getting beat by gantii, and I wanted to be hurt at night too. The pain made me feel alive.