Chapter 15

Have you ever stuck your finger into an electrical socket before? I did, back at the Compound. Not willingly, of course, but I still remember every excruciating detail.

A white light burst behind my eyes, and a humming sensation ran through my veins. My skin tingled, itched, as I experienced a momentary paralysis. During that agonizingly long second, on the grimy Compound floor, I thought I was going to die.

Actually, I was certain of it. As my body lit up like the Christmas trees Kai used to tell me about, I succumbed to my fate.

That’s what it feels like now—an electrical current coursing through my body, setting my skin and nerves ablaze. I scream as white-hot pain pierces me in the gut. Somewhere in the distance, the noise muffled, I hear an enraged snarl and a startled cry.

“What’s happening?” I sob, rolling off the bed and pressing my face against the floor. Both Bronson and Kai release identical pained growls before first one thump and then another resonates all around me. Their growls cut off abruptly.

Panting, I search for the nearest mind, only to come up empty. Either they left the room…

…or they’re unconscious.

Or dead.

My head is spinning, reeling, turning constantly. I’m unable to grasp one thought through the blistering, agonizing pain.

Footsteps echo around me, and I eagerly slide into the nearest mind.

Dozens of guards in navy blue uniforms surround me, weapons strapped across their chests. One of the men steps forward, kneeling before me. He’s only a few years older than I am, with light brown hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a malevolent smirk. He pushes at my shoulder, and I release a whimper at the contact. My body still feels as if it’s been set on fire, stomped on, then skinned alive.

All of which I had endured more times than I can count.

“She’s strong,” the guard murmurs, poking me. “Most can’t stay conscious for more than a second.” I want to swat at him, demand he stop touching me and ask him about the others, but I’m afraid that, if I open my mouth, only a scream will emerge.

Pain. So. Much. Pain.

It’s a tsunami crashing over me. Consuming me. Drowning me.

“How is she still conscious?” the guard whose head I’m in says to no one in particular. He turns, staring first at an unconscious Kai partially shifted into his dragon form and then at Bronson, fully shifted. My heart cries out as I note their limp bodies, closed eyes, and still chests.

No. No. No. No.

The guard kneeling in front of me glances up towards a man just in his peripheral.

“You can stop now,” he directs. When the guard stares at him completely, I get my first look at someone who is obviously powerful. A mage or warlock, if I had to guess, given my limited supernatural knowledge. His white hair is blowing in an invisible wind, and his violet eyes emit a strange inner light. Power. The man exudes power.

Heck, it almost appears as if he is power.

The strange man stops chanting instantly, dropping his hands to his sides. Immediately, Kai and Bronson begin to murmur and shift.

“Now that I stopped the spell, they’re not going to remain down for long,” the white-haired man muses almost lazily.

“Good. We have what we need, anyway.”

Two guards grip both my arms, pulling me up to my feet, and propel me out of the room and into the throne room. I’m too weak to walk on my own, so I’m forced to hang between them, my feet hovering just above the ground. The pain has ebbed, but my stomach somersaults repeatedly, threatening to expel the contents of my breakfast.

In the throne room, I can see Abel lying unconscious at the foot of the chair. Damien is leaning against the wall, head lolled, with at least a dozen guards surrounding him, weapons drawn. Even unconscious, the man is capable of evoking fear in guards and prisoners alike.

Is it strange that I feel a flurry of pride?

The guards move as one through the Labyrinth, only stopping when they reach the first fork in the hall.

“She needs to be unconscious,” one of the guards insists snidely. The same asshole who poked and prodded me.

“She’s blind,” a different guy protests. “It’s not like she’ll see anything.”

“You know the rules.” The guard grabs a syringe dripping with a strange, undefinable liquid. Leaning towards me, his smile grows exponentially, as if some sick, twisted part of him gets off on inflicting pain. “Nighty night.”

I pull out of the mind I’m residing in just as the needle pierces the skin of my neck.

Kai.

Bronson.

Visitor.

Compound.

Nighty night.

Darkness pulls me under.

I really needto stop passing out.

As awareness enters my body, I try to piece together where I am and how I got here. I remember talking with Bronson…

And Kai running inside, telling us that I had a visitor.

And then…pain. Agonizing pain, lighting up my bones like an incandescent flame. That man—that strange white-haired man with purple eyes—must’ve cast a pain spell on the others. For some reason, whether intentional or not, the spell hadn’t rendered me unconscious, but the injection did.

Where am I?

I’m sitting with my hands handcuffed to something cold in front of me. A table? Yes, it feels to be a table made of metal, my hands latched to something protruding from it. There’s a kink in my neck that I can’t remove, no matter how many times I twist my head from side to side.

A door opens and closes, alerting me to the approaching figure. I tense, my back going ramrod straight, as he approaches the table.

“You must be Nina,” a breathy voice exclaims as the chair across from me is pulled back with an audible screech.

Not a he.

I push into the female’s head to get my bearings. The room is similar to the one I was interrogated in for weeks on end after I was arrested. Masculine white walls without a splash of color. Silver metal table in the center of the room. Two plastic chairs.

The woman turns her face away from mine, towards the one-way mirror, and I’m able to see her clearly for the first time.

She’s beautiful. Gorgeous. Her chestnut curls cascade down to the middle of her back. Brilliant blue eyes, the exact shade of the core of a blistering hot flame, stand out on an already arresting face. She’s slim and tall, and I know without having to see her move that she would be graceful and elegant. Her teal dress clings to her body like a second skin—tighter around the bodice and bedecked with jewels before sweeping outwards at her waist.

When she turns back towards me, I see my mouth parted slightly and white eyes wide. Gaping.

Regaining my senses, I clamp my mouth shut and try to remember her question.

“Yes, I’m Nina,” I stutter.

Who is this woman, and why is she here to see me? My first thought is that she’s from the Compound, but I’m positive I’ve never seen her before in my life.

“You don’t know me,” she begins softly, “but my name is Alyssa Timmer.” She waits, as if expecting a reaction from me. Her name rings absolutely zero bells.

When I don’t immediately reply, she shifts in her seat, staring down at her flowing skirt.

“Councilwoman Alyssa Timmer,” she corrects, and I stiffen even more.

As in…? The same council that Raphael was on before he was killed and I was convicted of his death?

Oh god. I’m dead. So, so dead. She’s here to kill me. Avenge her friend’s death.

Goodbye, Kai.

Goodbye, Abel and Cain.

Goodbye, Bronson.

Goodbye, Damien.

Goodbye—

“I don’t believe you killed him,” Alyssa finishes at last, and all coherent thoughts flee. I blink at her like an imbecile. “Raphael had a lot of enemies,” she continues, “and he was an extremely powerful vampire. I find it hard to believe that a little girl like you could be behind his death.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “No offense.”

“Um…none taken.” Her words slam into me like a sledgehammer, stealing the breath from my lungs. “You believe me? That I’m innocent?”

What does this mean? Am I free? Can she get me out? But what about Kai and the others? I can’t leave him, not after I just found him. And though I don’t know the others well, a part of me feels like I need to. Know them, that is. It’s almost an instinctual need, like crying when you’re in pain or laughing when you’re happy. I need to know them.

“I believe you, but there’s nothing I can do.” She sighs, the sound forlorn, and I wonder what kind of relationship she had with this Raphael guy. Come to think of it, I know next to nothing about the man I supposedly murdered. Was he young or old? Handsome or ugly? Compassionate or evil? His entire existence before his death is a mystery to me.

It’s ironic, in a demented sort of way, that I know more about the man’s death than anything else.

“Nothing you can do,” I repeat numbly.

“The judge ruled you guilty,” she explains, not unkindly. She looks down at my locked hands, almost as if she wishes to reach across the table and put hers over mine. Instead, she balls them into fists and keeps them stubbornly on her lap. “In this world, you’re guilty until proven innocent. Since you’ve already been convicted, the authorities don’t feel the need to investigate further.”

“But you don’t believe that,” I surmise.

“No, I don’t. It just doesn’t add up.” She glances towards the window once more, a frown turning down her thin lips. “I’ve started my own investigation into things. Raphael was charismatic and kind, but he was also extremely ruthless and vicious. He had friends, but he also had enemies. I’m just trying to narrow down which ones wanted to see him dead.” She turns towards me. “Most of them are already in this prison.”

I keep my lips pressed into a thin line, unsure if she wants or is even expecting an answer.

“The council controls this area of the United States,” she begins before snorting delicately. “I’m sure if we could, we would control the world.” Shaking her head ruefully, she focuses back on me. I’m leaning over the table, entirely entranced by the snippets of information she’s tossing at me. “The council is made up of supernaturals from each of the main species. There are seven of us in total. A mage, a shifter, a vampire, a demon, an angel, a werewolf, and a druid. There are other supernaturals out there, of course, but these are the ones who predominantly live in this area. We maintain the peace, create laws, and run a structured system. Raphael was one of the main proponents of peace between species—supporting things like interspecies marriages and breeding, among other things. Other supernaturals were not as progressive as him.”

“And you think that’s what got him killed,” I guess, piecing together the puzzle with the minimal clues she gave me. She’s offering them like breadcrumbs, and it’s my job to follow the trail.

“I do.” She nods once before gracefully moving to her feet, staring down at me. “I’m going to try to get you out of here, Nina, but I need your help.”

“Anything,” I answer immediately, and not just for my freedom. A man is dead. I want to help her find the true murderer before he or she can hurt someone else.

“There’s a man in the prison that I think might have some information about Raphael Turner’s murderer,” she says candidly. “Ask him some questions, and I’ll do what I can on my end. Together, we’ll uncover the truth about what happened to my friend, and we’ll get you out of here.”

I clear my throat, shifting nervously in the uncomfortably cold chair. “What’s his name?”

“Damien Gentry,” she says. What little warmth I had leaves my body in a swooping whoosh. “He was one of the men sent to assassinate Raphael.”