Broken Compass: Supernatural Prison Story 1 (17 page)

With a cackle, he slammed his hand into my temple, and I barely held on to consciousness as he continued floating me out of that room and into another.

By the time the disorientation had cleared, I was in a cell. Story of my life lately. This one was at least twelve feet on either side, had a small bench, and a bucket in the corner. No doubt the delightful amenities. Pregnant shifters had to pee as frequently as pregnant humans, so I quickly made use of that. Once I was finished I sank against the wall, leaning my head back to try and assuage the pounding in my temples.

Kristoff had thought of everything. Clearly he knew the Compasses were going to try and kill him. Maybe he was even hoping they would, and that I would die also.

“Hello.”

The soft voice had my eyes slamming open and my body up off the bench. I hadn’t even for a second thought I wasn’t here alone, but that had definitely been a voice.

I crossed the space to the front of my cage, and gripping onto the bars tried to see in the dimly-lit room. It was cold down here, dark, with only some high-up sconces that held burning flames to cast a little light.

“Hello,” the female spoke again, weaker this time, and I could sense that it was taking a lot of effort for her.

“Hello,” I replied, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry, I can’t see you. Are you in a prison cell also?”

There was a brief coughing, and movement like she was shifting around. “Yes, I have been down here for … I don’t even know how long. The sorcerer purchased me after I was drawn into Little Red Riding Hood’s house. Damn Huntsman.”

Little Red Riding Hood?
Ours had been Hansel and Gretel. My theory that they were using fairytale stories as the draw seemed to be right. Perfect thing to lure in anyone who came across it. Of course we’d be curious. Who wouldn’t if they came across a real life fairytale in the forest?

The soft feminine voice continued: “After I followed the axe-carrying hottie, I was stuck in this weird auction house. Kristoff purchased me. Has kept me here ever since. He drains my blood and has these cuffs on my wrists so I can’t hurt him.”

Despite the touches of humor, there was still so much sadness in her melodic voice. My heart was literally aching as I listened to her stumble and search for words.

“What race are you from?” I asked her. There was a pause, and I wondered whether she was going to answer or if she’d passed out or something.

Her words floated across the basement again. “The human race. Why? What race are you from?”

“You’re human?”

There was a groan, and more shifting. I could see some movement in the darkness now. She was across the way from me, toward the far end. I caught only glimpses of golden hair and a slender frame.

“Yep, hundred percent grass-fed human.” There was a pause, and I think I was supposed to laugh but my mind was too crazed. “Sorry,” she continued. “Vegetarian joke. I’ve been down here so long I’m starting to think I’ve lost my ability to socialize. You’re the first person I’ve had a chance to talk with in forever.”

She was definitely a human. Supes did not talk the same way as humans, and it was easy to recognize the difference now. But what did Kristoff want with a human? What power did she offer him?

“My name is Mischa,” I said, “I’m not a human and neither is Kristoff. He’s a sorcerer, magic user, and I’m a wolf shifter.”

She already knew he was a sorcerer, she’d said so before, but maybe she didn’t quite realize what that meant. There was maybe ten seconds of dead silence before words burst from her. She sounded stronger: “I knew it. I knew he wasn’t just a human playing witch. There were too many weird things, but how can all of this be true? You can shift into a wolf? Like a werewolf?”

“Yes, sort of the same thing. In my world there are five supernatural races, and each of them has a different ability or affinity. There are many types of shifters. Wolf, bear, fox, tiger, and so on.”

I wasn’t supposed to tell humans about our world, but this chick had already been exposed in a huge way. She deserved to know what she was up against.

“I have a pack of very powerful supes. They’ll be coming for me.” My faith was still strong. “Do whatever you can to hold on, I
won’t
leave you here.”

A strangled chuckle escaped her. “Strange that just today I had pretty much given up hope. I have fought and tried to escape, and prayed to no avail. I decided to just give up, let Kristoff finish me off, and finally be at peace. Then you arrived … like a beacon of hope.”

Emotions started to choke me then and I held tightly to the bars as I fought down the tears. Hope. I had never been hope for anyone.

“What’s your name?” I asked when I finally got my emotions controlled.

Her voice was fading again, and I could see that she’d slumped down at the bars. “It’s Justice. Justice Anne Winter.”

So human. First, middle and last name. So much more important than it was for supes. They used pack or last names, but it didn’t mean much.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Justice. And like your namesake, we are going to make Kristoff pay for this. I promise you.”

There was no reply, but I could hear her quiet sobs as she struggled up off the floor.

For the next few hours, between her need to rest, Justice and I chatted, talking about everything and nothing. I loved her little bursts of humor; they were dry and witty, and I realized that I actually liked her. I’d never had human friends. Not really. There’d always been something to keep us apart, but this one was a keeper. I just had to make sure we both got out of here alive.

I felt the moment Kristoff returned to his lair. An insidious darkness crept in around me and I could feel the bad mojo. “He’s back,” Justice said, her voice low and dead now. “He will be coming for one of us soon.”

Yes, he would be, and I was determined that it be me. Justice was human, fragile. There was only so much more of this abuse she could take. She had to be so strong just to survive this long, but I could feel the weakness slowly breaking her.

Steps got louder as Kristoff descended into the freezing pit. All too soon his ugly, pointy face came into view.

“Looks like you’re ready for phase two of my plan, little wolf,” he said, his manic grin in place. The cell doors clicked open and I walked out without any assistance. “Glad to see you now understand the futility of fighting me. I leave nothing to chance. Nothing!”

And the crazy was back. I flicked one glance back down into the dungeon, silently telling Justice to remain silent. There was nothing she could do to help me now.

Of course, like all humans, she didn’t like to listen to orders. “Leave her alone, you ugly asshole!”

Her shout was firm, and I didn’t like the way Kristoff’s eyes narrowed toward her.

“Glad to see you two made friends down here. Maybe your spirits will keep each other company when you both depart this world … soon.” The promise of our deaths lingered in the air.

The sorcerer laughed, and flicked out his fingers toward her cage. I reacted immediately, jumping into his side and knocking into him. He let out a yell before backhanding me across the face. I hit the ground, rolling to protect my stomach, before maneuvering to get into a position where I could kick at him.

My aim was off due to a baby belly being in the way, but I still managed to partially slam him right in his junk. Which, yep, hurt me too, but since I wasn’t a dude, the pain was far less than his. And totally worth it.

Eyes watering, he gasped a few times before crushing a hand around my throat and lifting me by the neck. “If you fight me again, I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her slowly and painfully right in front of you.”

I could tell he was serious. Except to suck in a few deep breaths, I didn’t move at all as he lowered me back down. My throat was throbbing.

Justice was still screaming as we left the room, begging him to let me go. She was fighting for me, a stranger she barely knew, and I would do the same for her. I would take whatever punishment he dished out to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

Back in the main torture room, Kristoff chained me to the chair again before turning back to the bench across the other side of the chamber. It held a scattering of paraphernalia, ornate jars and a few small boxes. He was still limping and I took great joy in the fact that my kick had hurt him. Small victories.

When he turned around again, the ugly freak was holding a small, ornately carved chalice. It was a deep, rich purple, with gold inlay, and had the dull patina of an object which was very old. As he closed the distance between us, I could scent something dark and oily held within it. Everything inside of me shied away from the contents. This was going to be much worse than the countless slashes he’d inflicted earlier today.

“I need the Compasses to come for you, and the previous pain wasn’t doing the job. I need something … more permanent.” His voice was slightly high. “Once they sense you, there will be nothing to stop them. If there’s one thing I can rely on when it comes to that powerful pack of posers, it’s their loyalty.” His unblinking eyes regarded me for a moment. “I would have preferred to purchase Jessa from my traveling band of Merry Men. She has a tighter bond to the Compasses, but I didn’t have the time to wait for her. My presence had to stay undetected.”

Traveling band of Merry Men must have been the smuggling ring. And did he say his? As in he was behind that setup? Well, at least when he died that would get two things off my to-do list.

He was still babbling away and I was starting to wonder if Kristoff had enjoyed a drink or two. Guy seemed to be half wasted as he swayed around the room. “You’re almost as good as Jessa anyway. You carry one of their young. They’ll feel the pain.”

Back to the weird mutters at the floor. Still, his words were more than a little disturbing. Especially the part about the pain. Even though they were healed now, I could still feel those magical slashes. Did he think they had not been painful? Holy heck. How much worse was this new thing going to be?

Hold on, precious baby.
I mentally sent out calming thoughts, preparing myself to not flinch, to not let whatever pain I’d feel filter into the bond with my child.

I could do this. I was strong enough.

Kristoff tilted the chalice over my leg and let the darkness trickle over the sides. I had been right about the oiliness. There was a strong viscosity within the fluid; it hung almost suspended in a large drop, before gravity finally won.

Do not show pain. Do not feel it.

I started to chant in my mind, which I had done many times over the years as a child. My differences led to lots of bullying, lots of running and hiding from the cruelty of others. As they would punch and kick me, throw things and smash food into my face, I would go to a place inside my mind where they couldn’t reach me, where the pain didn’t reach me.

I hadn’t had to go to that place for a long time, but I would now. Only this time, as the first burning bite of oil dropped onto my thigh, I found myself not in my mind but with my child.

Hello, little one.
My mental voice went all deep and warm and I could feel the love pouring out of me. And shockingly, the same warmth was returned to me from my baby, my beautiful, perfect, precious child.

The oil splashed me again, and a part of my body connected to my pain sensors knew that this pain was akin to slowly being burned alive. Piece by piece my skin shriveled away, but I had distanced myself to keep my mind safe. Or maybe my mind was completely shattered now. Either way, I would not give up this moment with my child for anything.

Your mommy loves you very much, sweetheart. And so does your daddy. He’s going to come for us, and until he does I’ll keep fighting for you. I’ll always fight for you. You’ll never be alone.

That was the real truth of it. I had always been alone. Even when Lienda was around, she was absent. Her devastation at the loss of her true mate had meant she was little more than a shell. She had retreated into herself, working eighty hours a week and barely acknowledging I was alive. The mother I’d seen over the last few months was completely different. That mother was warm, and loving, and kind,
a ferocious protector and a shoulder to cry on.

A blinding shot of realization hit me then and I understood the truth behind my actions in the sanctuary, and in those moments after. When Maximus had been stolen from me I had acted like Lienda, like a person who had lost their true mate and would do anything to get them back.

I could acknowledge that Lienda had sacrificed greatly for mine and Jessa’s safety, that she had given up twenty-plus years of life with her mate while her soul slowly shriveled away, but she should have been stronger for her child, the way I had needed her to be. Now that I had a child of my own, I would never let my weakness hurt her.

As I wrapped myself around the tiny energy at my center, I felt with great certainty that it was a girl. I was going to have a daughter. This joy was short-lived though, as the sorcerer chose this moment to go completely crazy.

“React, damn you!” Some of my inner calm was lost as spittle smashed across my face.

Kristoff flung the oil to the side, and in a flash slapped me hard across the face. The crack echoed loudly, and as my vision went blurry, dots dancing before my eyes, I lost my tenuous ability to hide internally.

The right side of my face was numb now, that sort of numbness which preluded a serious injury, where you knew that once the pain finally registered it was probably going to kill you. Of course, I could take comfort in the fact that no matter how badly damaged my face was, there was no pain which could compare to the agony scorching my left leg.

Once the black dots stopped spinning before my eyes, I was able to really see the damage being inflicted on my body. My left thigh was completely destroyed, the skin burned and bleeding, red and weeping. The pain was like nothing I could describe; I had no precedent for it, and truly I wondered if the anguish would kill me.

In the true nature of burns, the oil continued burrowing down into my skin, like a red-hot poker slowly piercing through flesh and muscle.