‘There are people in the office on the right,’ Steph whispered. ‘I think they’re shredding documents.’
‘Should we stop them?’ Karina asked, but Amanda only shook her head, pointing down the corridor.
She was right, Karina realised, feeling foolish. Stick to the job at hand, that was what was important.
There were windows in each of the office doors. As they passed, Karina saw two men pulling cardboard folders apart. A shredder was already chewing its way through a vast amount of paper.
Amanda was taking the lead, checking each window in turn, Steph at her heels.
Finding a door that interested her, Amanda tried the handle and found it unlocked.
It was another office, two desks pushed to face one another and, on the wall, a large rack of labelled keys.
There was one labelled ‘solitary’. Taking it, Amanda pressed it into Karina’s hand with a nod and then brushed past. She had her own part to play in this plan, one of the paint pots swinging at her side.
‘Are we really just doing what she says?’ asked Steph, once the woman was gone.
‘It’s got us this far.’
Heading back outside, it didn’t take them long to find the small bunker cell – the one Amanda said she had been held in on her first day.
But she’d said nothing about the wards. The cell she and Amanda had been held in a few hours ago had been a joke compared to this. Magic suppressants covered every inch. There were wards built to confuse and disorientate, powered by those people held inside. This was a cell engineered to grind down its inhabitants.
Steph had to keep her distance, but Karina’s armour allowed her to approach. The enchanted key vibrated in her hand as she neared, working in sync with the wards around the lock.
The breath caught in Karina’s throat at the sight of her friends. They were all cuffed, their heads limp. All of them looked battered and bruised and, even at a glance, she thought she could see burns on Duncan’s bare skin.
The four prisoners had retreated as the door was pulled open, none of them even looking up at her until she said their names. ‘It’s me. It’s Karina.’
It took them a few moments to understand, the helmet changing her voice. Even as they stood, she could see the suspicion in their eyes.
‘We’re here to break you out,’ said Steph, the young woman clearly relishing being able to use the line.
Still they stared, expecting a trap, until Karina removed her helmet.
‘It is you,’ Duncan was almost in tears. The others weren’t far behind.
She did her best to explain to them. ‘Bottom line, we’re getting out of here. I just need one of you to come with me and the rest to go with Steph. Going with me will be the more dangerous, but both roles are important, I can’t describe how much.’
‘That’ll be me,’ said Duncan, nodding, confirming with a look that the others agreed. ‘Do I need to put on…’ he waved a hand, taking in Karina’s uniform.
‘No,’ she said, getting the helmet ready.
The uniform came with a key to unlock the cuffs. The prisoners groaned with relief as she released them.
It was hard parting from them so quickly, watching as they limped and hobbled their way after Steph. She tried to console herself that she’d see them again soon enough once this all went to plan.
Duncan had kept his cuffs on so he could walk with Karina, unnoticed. Together they looked like a guard and inmate, heading towards the town hall where the other prisoners were being kept. The only giveaway was the half-dozen paint pots hooked over Karina’s free arm, her pockets bristling with brushes.
It was strange how few people there were to see. Rain was coming in brief flurries, drops spattering her visor before fleeing, some enchantment chasing the moisture away like oil on a hot griddle. The wind was a constant bluster, agitating the trees and chasing the grasses.
‘Are you sure this is the right thing to do?’ asked Duncan. ‘Some of these people…’
‘Don’t say they’re not worth saving.’
‘But they’re criminals.’
‘So are we.’
‘But you know what I mean. We’ll be responsible for—’
‘No one should be here. We tried doing everything right and they’re still going to hang us if this doesn’t work. I’m finished listening to them and I’m finished letting them pick my allies for me. These aren’t all good people, but when is that true for anything? It’s the right thing to do. We’re not choosing who to save because it’s convenient for us or the optics. All right? This has to happen.’
‘They always said prison just makes better criminals.’ She could see from the crook of his smile that he was joking.
‘You’re the second person who’s told me that. Are you going to be OK to do this?’
‘I don’t think anyone cares if I’m not. This happens or it doesn’t and you need me.’
Karina tried not to tense up as they met the main street, contenting herself with pulling Duncan closer and keeping a hold on him. The guards would be able to tell she wasn’t one of them just by looking at her, she knew it. She could feel herself shaking from head to toe but couldn’t tell if it was visible, couldn’t see herself from the outside.
But Duncan felt it, he squeezed her tighter, pinching her restraining hand under his arm, but she knew that he was scared too, the pair of them helping each other down the street.
There were four guards standing outside the town hall, leaning on the railings and sitting on the stairs. And if seeing them sitting around so informally was strange, then being able to hear them was even stranger. Their voices drifted over as she approached, picked up and whispered in her ear by the helmet. Two years hearing the same voices day in, day out, and she’d never heard these men and women before.
‘…probably a car.’
‘Can you even drive?’
‘Fine, a car and lessons.’
The back of her throat began to burn, the only sensation that confirmed that she was still attached to her body. Her head felt like it was floating, her legs carrying her inexorably towards them, as undeniable as the tide. She could hear her own breathing in the tight confines of the helmet. It was hot all of a sudden, despite the chill wind finding its way through her armour. Why did they have to make it so hot?
As she neared, she felt the itch of runes activating inside her armour and blinked as the glamours of the guards before her manifested. The visors of the guards’ helmets became transparent and she could see their faces, set in stern expressions as they looked over to her.
She had to bite her tongue as she kept moving forward. They wouldn’t be seeing her face, she had to remind herself. Rather they would be seeing the face of whoever’s armour this had been, like the static image of Amanda’s white bald guy.
‘Maynard?’ asked one of the guards, the lips of his glamour unmoving.
Unlike the voice that came from outside the helmet, the internal comms communicated perfectly; she could hear the speaker’s accent.
‘Fuck you doing here? They call you back?’
‘What’s the paint for? Drummond seriously think we’ve got time to be making wards?’ They didn’t move to stop her as she moved Duncan through them, up the stairs to the door. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she was going to pass out from the blood pressure alone.
Pushing Duncan ahead of her, she let the door shut behind them.
The town hall was a large room, with a wooden floor and a stage at the far end. The ceiling was high, the windows tall and long.
Row upon row of prisoners sat on the floor before her, their backs to the door, all too frightened to turn around. Their bodies were bent, heads down, hands in cuffs behind them.
Two guards kept watch from the stage, eyeing the new arrival as she set down the paint and brushes.
No one had followed them in. They must have been waiting for Maynard, whoever that was, to come back out and explain.
Duncan was looking to her, w
aiting for an instruction.
‘Get as many of them out,’ she said, surprised at how firm her voice sounded. She grabbed his cuffs, pulled them off and handed him a key. ‘Get the doors locked too.’
Duncan nodded, and turned back to the door, snicking the lock closed and shutting the guards out.
One of the guards on stage called over, but she ignored them, pulling a second key to the cuffs from her pocket.
Hauser was on the far end of the back row. There was no mistaking his broad back, sloping shoulders and cascade of ill-kept hair. Karina didn’t like him, would never like him, a house robber and a blackmailer. He’d sold people cursed items, revoking the hexes only after his bill had been paid. But it had taken five officers to bring him in. He was big, strong, angry and exactly what the moment called for.
He flinched at her touch, but she held him still long enough to get the key to the lock, the braces clicking open at a touch. ‘They mean to hang us. Get the guards out, hold the town hall and I’ll get us off this island.’
He’d stiffened at her words in his ear but done nothing else. She could feel his eyes on her as she stepped past him, moving to the next person and the next, releasing the biggest and the baddest. She picked Donnie, who had attacked a pro-magic rally by placing a binding ward on the meeting point. She unlocked Ariane and Cesca, who had plotted to kidnap a politician. All the people she had previously shunned, the ones with the will for violence.
Duncan was unlocking indiscriminately, working his way down the line.
The guards were closing in, hopping and stumbling through the rows of inmates to get to her. Some of the sharper prisoners were already catching on, flinging out their feet to trip them.
Hauser threw up a barrier, the magic costly but enough to hold the armoured pair back behind an impermeable wall.
Karina was aware that she was shouting, broadcasting her intentions to everyone, but she was barely cognisant of what she was actually saying.
There were those who fell in line straight away. They moved to block the doors and the windows or to help Hauser. Others needed more persuading, stepping back to the walls, terrified, urged on by their friends.
The guards were backing towards the stage, hands outstretched, palms open. More and more prisoners were throwing their powers into the barrier, the strain of untattooed magic showing on their faces.
Pushing her way to the front, Karina stood firm, the people at her shoulders giving her strength. She knew this bit, she’d been in protests before, fought within the confines of the law. It was what happened next that was new to her.
‘Get back down,’ one of the guards said, jabbing his baton at the ground. Though the image of his face remained passive, an almost bored-looking black man, she could hear the panic in his voice.
Knowing her moment, she pulled off her helmet, pushing her hair from her face.
‘No,’ she replied, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘This is over. We are done being ordered around by you. This place is done.’
‘Down or it’s the gallows,’ said the guard.
‘No,’ she said again. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
Stepping back in a single practised movement, the guards began to make cantrips, fingers moving in perfect synchronisation. Collaborative magic took training, slower but more effective by far than spells worked by individuals. Their blast blew the prisoners’ barrier apart, throwing inmates off their feet with the force of a shotgun blast.
Though her armour protected her from the blow, it didn’t stop Hauser’s elbow from catching Karina clean in the face. She fell to the floor with the rest of them.
Blinking, Karina tried to clear her swimming vision. Her cohorts surrounded her on the floor, writhing and clutching their middles in pain. A few had been quick enough to throw up protections, their forearms ringed with bruises but standing their ground.
The guards were striding forward. They were heading straight for her, she realised, the ringleader.
Beside her, Duncan let out a blast of power into the nearest guard’s face. He might as well have tried to blow the man down, the wards in the guard’s armour deflecting and absorbing the attack. It didn’t even break his stride.
More people tried, then more, blow after blow raining down on the man to little effect.
Hands sliding out from under her, Karina tried to crawl backwards away from him, fear growing as he loomed over her, baton rising.
Duncan stepped into the guard’s path.
The armoured figure hesitated, the visor’s reflection swinging upwards – Duncan stood a good six inches over his opponent. Swinging his baton, the guard caught Duncan high on the arm. The second swing went for his head. As he tried to block it, the metal smacked into the hard bone of Duncan’s wrist. He cried out in pain.
The third swing never landed, a woman reaching out and catching the baton by its tip, arresting the guard’s momentum. Another hand grabbed at him and another and within moments the baton was rolling on the ground. It was scooped up by one of the prisoners as the guard retreated, his comrade at his side, the pair backing away.
Despite their mirrored visors, the panic in their body language was clear for all to read.
They were making for the rear door, a back office leading out onto the strip of bare earth that separated the houses from the forest. Karina left it to Duncan and a few others to harry them. Duncan would make sure to secure the exit, leaving the prisoners with the town hall to themselves.
‘Come on,’ said Karina, to the rest. ‘We have to secure this place.’ Showing them the paint cans by the door, she explained her plan.
The crowd swirled and moved around her as she led the way, the nucleus in a vast spinning atom of people and action. There was talk, everywhere, questions being asked, direction asked for, concerns raised. Karina answered them all as best she could.
There was another rumble of thunder, the wards around the island a step closer to breaking. A glance out of the window and she could see the dark clouds approaching.
Did the guards not see them? Weren’t they concerned? Or did they think that the storm wards failing and Karina’s protest were one and the same?
The prison alarm began to wail, its long call scattered by the wind, loud and then soft as the approaching storm began to squeeze its fist.
Closer to, guards were rushing towards the hall. More were arriving in cars, warded shields already hammered with rain.
The prisoners were rushing to barricade the doors. Those good with brushes were reinforcing the entrances against magical attack. The more active protestors knew the symbols off by heart, working with a fierce determination they hadn’t felt in years.
‘That’s good,’ Karina called, her voice carrying easily across the room over the noise. The wind howled, rain and forest debris rattling against the tall windows. ‘We need to give them as hard a time getting in as possible. Get the doors barricaded and warded to bind them closed. The rest of you, I have here copies of the storm wards we need. They need to be everywhere, the windows especially.’ She held out the sheaf of papers she’d been keeping in her pocket. ‘Do them exactly as they are drawn here. Exactly. I mean it.’ The storm wards would keep the curse at bay for a while, buying them a little time, but once Harry’s ritual took full effect they were on their own.
The prisoners who knew their way around drawing wards rushed to take copies from her. Duncan was distributing the paint and brushes to work with. The paint was thick, made for ward work.
Fielding a few more questions, Karina left the rest to Duncan. Taking a paint pot and brush for herself, she headed for the back room. She had her own part to play.
* * *
Leaving Karina and Steph to take the prisoners from the cells to the town hall, Amanda found the stairs.
The second floor was quiet, the silence underlined by the weather, amplifying the creak of her boots, the plastic scratch of her armour rubbing.
Taking the stairs up to the office, she began to hear
voices.
It wasn’t difficult to recognise them: Andre and Drummond. They were making uneasy conversation while they waited for the storm ritual to break the wards on the safe.
Having taken a glimpse of the situation, she headed back downstairs to the room directly underneath.
Closing the door behind her, turning the lock, she removed her helmet. Pulling a desk to the middle of the room, she climbed up and got to work.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘He’s here and he wants to speak with you.’
Karina was just finishing when Duncan appeared in the doorway. She looked over her work, checking and rechecking against her diagram.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘I heard. Let him… Two seconds. Let me finish.’
‘What is that?’ asked Duncan.
‘The real plan.’ Satisfied, she touched it with a fingertip, waking it with a scintilla of power to establish a connection. Nothing happened to the circle itself, but she could feel it begin to draw energy from her, a light tug in her belly. It wasn’t much now, but its demands would grow when it became active. She just hoped she wouldn’t need it for too long.
‘All right, let’s go see him. Get Nadia to keep a watch here. She needs to let us know when it’s time.’
‘He’s around the front,’ said Duncan, leading the way. ‘They aren’t even pretending any more, they just stand behind him like he’s in charge.’
‘He is. They’re bought and paid for.’ The other prisoners were still working on their own wards. The walls were covered in them, as high as the inmates could reach.
The storm was worse than before. The building creaked from its force.
Despite the wind, Karina could hear a voice shouting outside. Some of the prisoners had gathered to peer out of the windows. They’d done a good job of barricading and warding the doors, but now, with little else to do, they were fretting. Those who didn’t have the nerve to look out of the window were sitting by the stage, their faces tight with worry.
Strange Ways Page 30