Chapter 21

21

O ctavia

Several big, burly shifters are holding Creed in place while one of them beats on him. I run toward them, screaming for them to stop, when one grabs me from behind, picking me up off my feet.

"What are you doing? He's my friend. He kept me safe this whole time!" I scream, trying to break free. "Stop hurting him." I scream so loudly that my throat hurts.

The guy keeps hitting Creed; he seems to be taking some perverse enjoyment out of it. Pyro said that the guards treated exiled shifters like scum, but I didn't quite believe it until now. I realize that some of these guys have done really bad things, but not all of them did.

"I could scent his seed on her while in my dragon form," the guy holding onto me yells. "It's definitely there," he adds, putting his nose to my stomach. I knee him in the face, still screaming for them to stop hurting Creed, which they finally do.

Creed slumps to the ground; his face is bloody. He groans, clutching his side. It's his ribs. I saw Tank land that blow. It was bad. Creed groans and then lies still.

No! No! No!

We should have run when we had the chance. This is ridiculous.

"I take it that you're the one who crash-landed in the jungle?" one of the men asks me in a gruff voice.

I nod. "Yes. Please, don't—"

"I'm glad we found you. I'm sorry for all you must have gone through. You are safe now. I am Colonel Taro. You are in safe hands." He turns to Creed. "That male is under arrest."

"Why?" I shout. "Creed didn't do anything wrong."

"He forced you to have sex," he says.

"No, he didn't," I growl.

"Well, then he made you give him sex in return for your safety. That is against the law," the colonel says.

Where did he come up with that?

"That's not what happened at all. I—"

"You have had a terrible ordeal, human. You're not thinking straight." He looks at me like I am some sort of child. "Again, I am sorry. We will make it right."

"No, that isn't what happened at all. I am thinking straight, I assure you."

"You must be hungry, thirsty. You need a medical checkup. Know that the male will stand trial for his crimes. We'll get to the bottom of it soon enough." He looks over at Creed. "It would be his second offense, punishable by death."

"No. You can't do that. Creed didn't—" I make a noise of frustration when the colonel turns and walks away. He doesn't give a shit about what really happened.

"We shift. We fly. To the city." He draws a circle in the air with his finger, and then all of the men shift almost in unison. One grabs me in his scaly talon.

"He didn't do anything wrong!" I shout. "Leave him alone."

I look over at Creed. He is unconscious, dangling from a dragon's claws as the creature takes off. The dragon who has me takes off, too.

I scream as we take to the sky. You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but I'm not. I'm glad that Creed is alive. Tank could very well have killed him. I'm glad the city dragons came when they did. I didn't want to say goodbye to him. My stomach was all in knots over the whole thing. Now he's on his way back, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Once we get to the city, someone will listen to what I have to say, and they'll let Creed go. They have to. Then it'll all be over. I'll be able to go home and carry on with my life.

The flight doesn't take as long as I thought it would, which is great since I don't love dangling above the ground like this. I start seeing signs of civilization. It isn't the big metropolis I imagined it to be, but rather a collection of smaller villages. They seem to be clustered around a huge castle. We make for the tall structure. It's constructed of brick and stone, with many towers and spires reaching up into the sky. I can see people scurrying about on the streets below, going about their daily business.

There are also dragons flying who are not a part of the guard. They stop mid-flight and hover, staring at us. I don't blame them; I'm sure it's not every day that this many dragons fly in formation through the sky. Then again, how would I know? Maybe they're staring at me. The sound of flapping wings is all around me. The dragons rumble and call to one another.

I might have been "rescued," but I don't feel safe. Not by a long shot.

I look over to Creed, who is still dangling like a ragdoll from one of the dragon's talons. I want to scream at the injustice of it all. What right do they have? He is innocent. The jungle is crawling with terrible, depraved shifters. My mind goes straight to Tank, but they have beaten and detained one of the few who helped me. One of the few who is really good and kind. Why? Because they wouldn't listen to me. Because they lumped Creed in with all the other "jungle" shifters as scum. They've already persecuted him. They're so sure that they won't listen to me at all. It's ridiculous!

As we draw nearer to the castle – it seems like we are headed straight there – I start to take in the details. There are flags all over the structure. They wave in a light breeze. It takes me a minute to make out what is on them. It's a crest of arms in the form of a large, white, fire-breathing dragon against a red background. Must be a Mistveil symbol…I think.

We land on wide, green lawns, and all the dragons shift at once. It's so loud that I have to put my hands over my ears to drown out the noise. Thankfully, it's over relatively quickly.

"Come with me, human," the guy who carried me says in a deep voice. He grips my elbow and starts marching. I practically have to jog to keep up with him.

Many of the shifters head in other directions. I see Creed dangling over the shoulder of one of the men up ahead. They are all naked, but by now, that doesn't bother me. I note that there are a couple of women among them. I twist back to get a better look. They're taller than human women, which makes sense since the men are taller by a mile. They're toned and quite pretty. Like the men, they have tattoos. Everyone has them. Dark ink with red. I'm soon too far away to see properly and look to the front again.

Walking up ahead is Colonel Taro. I am tempted to shout to him. To try to get his attention, to get him to listen but I think it will be futile. I am sure I will be given a chance to tell my side of the story at some point. I will make them listen, hear me, and believe me. They need to understand that what they are doing is wrong. It would never be allowed on the Mainland. This place is very different from home. I keep getting reminders of that.

I look around as we are marched up a cobblestone path and note that the gardens are immaculate. The lawn is good enough to play bowls on. My dad used to love his bowls before…before my mom died.

We are led up a steep incline, heading for the castle. Massive wooden doors open as we draw near. Two large stone pillars stand on either side of the entrance. They're covered with carvings of dragons in various poses. I think that Creed would do a much better job. His carvings are better than this by far.

We pass through the large doorway, and I am momentarily stunned. The interior is just as impressive as the outside, with high ceilings made of beams and panels carved with intricate designs. Most of the walls are adorned with elaborate tapestries depicting battles between dragons. Others show the stages of a dragon shifting. Despite this old-fashioned touch, the rest of the interior is ultra-modern, with state-of-the-art lighting fixtures and sleek, angular furniture. The floors are made of polished marble which reflects the light from the crystal chandeliers above. At the center of the vast entrance hall is a wide staircase with gold railings. It's grand.

The air is cool and smells faintly of lavender and cedarwood. We are led down a long corridor lined with suits of armor and more dragon-themed tapestries. The guards escorting us walk with purpose. I feel a knot of unease form in my stomach as we approach a set of doors to the right. There are guards standing on either side of the doors. I can't help but stare at them. They're all dressed in black leather armor and wearing long swords in sheaths at their sides. The odd thing about them is that they are wearing masks crafted from a dark, gleaming metal that has been twisted and shaped into the eerie likeness of a human face. It's bizarre and completely off-putting.

They don't move or flinch, but rather, they stand at attention before the doors, where we are led down wide but functional stairs. We march down several flights. No one talks. Then we head down a wide hallway. It's all well-lit and clean. The floors are polished and gleaming, as are the bars of the cells.

Jail cells.

What?

I start panicking. By now, I'm used to it. I'm able to keep my emotions in check. To keep my mind calm, I take deep, easy breaths, keeping my heart from racing. I'm fine. We're fine. This is going to be fine.

I peer back, trying to see Creed, but I can't. He is no longer ahead of me, either. Where did they take him?

"Where are you taking me?" I ask.

"You are safe," the guard holding my arm says.

"Where is Creed? The guy I was with…where is he?"

"I am assigned to your care. I do not know where he is, but you do not need to worry; he can't touch you now," the guard says.

"He never hurt me," I mutter, even though I know it's useless.

We pass a door with the word "Infirmary" on it and more jail cells. They're sparse, with a mattress on the floor and a folded blanket that doesn't look very warm. In the corner is a basic stainless-steel toilet and a tiny basin.

I am ushered into a dimly lit room. There is a table and two chairs. I'm gently pushed down onto one of the chairs.

"Sit, human," he says.

"My name is Octavia," I tell him. "Please, can I get something to wear?" I look down at my tattered bra, the knot I tied in the strap is holding but only just. My jeans are disgusting, with dirt and grass stains all over them. They're torn. I'm missing the top button, but they're managing to stay on somehow.

"Stay here," the guard says. "Someone will be here soon to speak with you and to see to your needs."

"Thank you," I tell him.

The guard leaves. I note that several men in black armor are standing outside the door. There is a large mirror to my left.

"Crap," I mutter to myself when I catch my reflection. My hair looks like a bird's nest. I have dirt streaks on my cheek. In short, I look like a hot mess. I'm not sure what all the fuss was about and why all those men were fighting over me. They're desperate, all right. I look around. It's just as sparse as the jail cells out there. In front of me is a small steel table with a chair on the other side. In the center of the table is a round steel ring that has been bolted in place. I look under the steel table, and sure enough, it has been bolted to the floor as well.

It isn't long before the door opens, and a man walks in. He's also wearing one of those grotesque masks. He puts a T-shirt, a bottle of water, and a wrapped sandwich on the table. Together with the sandwich is a napkin and a wet wipe encased in a plastic wrapper.

"Thanks," I say, trying to smile. "How long before someone comes to talk to me?"

"I don't know. You eat, female," he says as he walks out the door, which clicks shut behind me.

After pulling the shirt over my head, I drink half the bottle of water and then can't open the sandwich quickly enough. I take a bite and groan. It's filled with slices of rare beef. It has to be the best thing I have ever eaten. I bite into it again and start to feel guilty about Creed. Where is he? Has he been fed anything? Are they interrogating him? Are they beating him some more?

I feel ill at the thought. I shove the feelings aside. I need my strength. I haven't eaten anything substantial in days. Not since Creed's cabin. It feels like forever ago.

I crumple up the wrapper minutes later. The sandwich is gone. I feel so much better. Then I use the wet wipe to try to clean up, using it first on my face and then under my arms. I hope I don't stink too badly. It seems like a lifetime ago since we washed up in that stream.

I use my fingers to brush my hair but give up. It really is a rat's nest. I'm still busy when someone walks in. I turn back in my seat.

It's a tall guy in the same black armor and mask as the others. I note that the masks are all slightly different. It seems like they are custom made.

He removes the mask and smooths his glossy black hair. I recognize him right away. "I'm Colonel Taro. It is good to meet you properly." His eyes are brown. His shoulders broad. He is wearing black leather gloves.

"Where is Creed?" I ask. "I—"

"You are safe, human."

"My name is Octavia."

"It is good to meet you," he repeats. "I am terribly sorry for your ordeal on our island. I must assure you that not all of our males are like the ones you encountered. You had the unfortunate bad luck of crashing on the jungle-side of our island. We had patrols searching for you but were unable to find you." He scratches his chin. "When we saw all those males assemble in one place, we correctly assumed that you would be there. We came as soon as we could."

"Where is Creed?"

"He is being attended to in the infirmary."

I huff out a sigh of relief.

"Someone will be here soon to take you to your accommodation. We will let you rest and replenish before questioning you further."

They haven't questioned me at all. Haven't listened to anything I have to say.

"I'm fine. I'm happy to talk now. I want to talk now." I need to set the record straight as a matter of urgency.

"You've been through an ordeal. I must insist that you rest. A female guard will be here soon. There are staff who will see to your every need."

"What about Creed? When can I see him?"

His eyes narrow. "Why would you want to see him?" He shakes his head. "No, that won't do at all. Besides, he is being patched up so that he will be strong enough for questioning. We will expect a full confession from him."

"A confession for what? He hasn't done anything wrong, and if you'll just listen to me, I'll explain everything to you. Creed—"

"Hmmmmmm." He rubs his chin, looking at me like I'm a bug under a microscope. "This is bad. Really bad. You may think you are fine, but you are not." He shakes his head. "You were used and hurt, and in the worst of ways, only you don't seem to realize it. I have studied some of your human psychology, and what you are feeling has a name; it's called Stockholm syndrome. Have you heard of it?" He doesn't wait for me to reply. "It's when a victim starts to develop positive feelings toward their captor."

My mouth falls open. "You think I have Stockholm syndrome?"

"Yes, it's clear to me that you do." The colonel nods his head. He believes the shit that he is spouting wholeheartedly, and I can't believe it. My mother always used to say that there is one thing worse than no knowledge, and that's some knowledge. Colonel Taro is a perfect example of having a partial understanding of a subject he knows nothing about.

"You're not a qualified psychologist. You couldn't possibly know that." I shake my head in disbelief.

"I have read up extensively on—"

"It's not the same as having a qualification. You need to know that Creed kept me safe and looked after me. If it weren't for him, I—" I start to say.

The colonel makes a tutting noise. "You poor dear. Your brain is muddled up. You need time and therapy. We can offer you a safe haven here at the castle until the next flight to the Mainland. You will be remunerated for your troubles. You can use the money to get help for yourself. To rebuild your life."

"I don't want your money. There is nothing wrong with me!" I yell, standing. "I want to speak to someone else. I demand it."

Just as before, Colonel Taro ignores me flat. He walks out of the room. When I try to follow him, my path is blocked by two burly guards.

"He didn't do anything," I scream. "He helped me! Creed is innocent!" I shout louder, but he doesn't register what I am saying at all. He keeps walking.

"Please be calm, female," one of the guards says.

"You should sit," the other one tells me. He closes the door in my face.

I scream and hit the wooden surface, realizing that my behavior isn't exactly helping to convince them that I am of sane mind.

Shit!

Creed is about to be "interrogated" and it's all my fault. I need to find a way to get these idiots to listen to me and fast.