Dragon Marked: Supernatural Prison #1 (19 page)

“Welcome to Vanguard,” he started, his words accented, but faint as if it
had been a long time ago that he’d come to America. “My name is Jeremy, I’m the
head of the guard and magical protections. When we leave here, you will be
escorted to your cell first.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t agree with this, but
it has been dictated that you two will share a cell, for safety. Then you’ll be
led out into the center zone. It’s mingling, lunch and activity time, and we
need to get you two out there and try and nip any threats in the bud.”

I shivered a little. I had no idea how bad it was going to be. I kept
hoping they were exaggerating, but something told me they weren’t. I turned my
head to the side and met Braxton’s eyes. He nodded. At least we both agreed
that the fact we were bunking together was a bonus. Thank you, Dad.

We turned back to Jeremy.

“I know what you’ve been accused of doing.” His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I have no idea why you would have been trying to infiltrate the prison, and to
my knowledge there is no doorway where you were found. I think this is all a
misunderstanding and I have no doubt that these charges will be dropped. The
fact that you are forced to be in the main jail is not ideal, however. Powers
above me have dictated.”

Truth.
I
could hear the frustration in his voice. Seems as if, no matter how high you were
in the pecking order, there was always some douche-canoe with his hand up your
ass, controlling your actions.

He stood then. “Follow me,” he said as he turned and moved toward the
door. I wondered if they were just going to let us freely wander behind.

Yeah, not happening. Our hands were magically cuffed at the doorway by
the two guards waiting there. I liked to think it was me they were so afraid
of, but I knew better.

The guards stayed around us as we were led out of the office section and
toward the large barred gate that seemed to mark the beginning of the actual
prison. Upon Jeremy’s command, there was the distinct whoosh of magic, followed
by locks clicking across. The metal double doors swung open. The moment I
stepped across the threshold I almost fell to my knees. I paused and had to
close my eyes. My breathing was deep and even as I fought to regain
equilibrium.

“You okay?” Braxton’s low voice had my lids shooting open. “Keep
breathing, it can be hard to adjust to the loss of power. Especially when you’re
strong.”

He wasn’t kidding. I used the familiar and piercing blue of his eyes to
ground myself. It felt as if there was a cloying cloth pressed onto my energy.
This was like the magical cuffs, only a thousand times stronger, pushing my
power down, suppressing my natural urges and limiting my strength.

I attempted to call on my wolf but I couldn’t reach her. She was there
but hidden, unreachable. Unlike the cuffs, this time it felt as if she was
gone.

I howled then, in one long, unbroken note. Where was she? I’d never been
away from my wolf before. I was dying.

Braxton stepped into me then; he couldn’t hug me, his arms were secured
behind his back, but his warmth still surrounded me, his scent washing over me,
his comfort enough to halt my hysteria. I rested my face against the hard
planes of his chest as I gulped down the emotions, my breathing rapid and
shallow. He continued with the comforting touch until, finally, I was able to
stand on my own.

“I’m okay … I’m okay,” I repeated a few times. “I just … can’t touch her,
my wolf. She’s locked away from me.”

He nodded. “I know, but she’s still there. Don’t let your brain convince
you that she’s dead or you’ll go insane … well, more insane.”

“Thank you,” I murmured into his hard chest. “I love when you point out
the obvious to me.” I tilted my head back to glare at him. He returned my look
with a lazy grin.

Jeremy jarred us out of our little bubble. “Move it.”

I shifted my glare to him, but couldn’t summon up enough anger to bother
with words. Then we were moving again. Apparently it was time to dive into the
jungle.

The
cloying pressure of suppressed energy was worse in the long channel of the
shifter wing. There were more woven securities there. Silver bars lined the
rows of cells, which were about eight by eight meters in size. We walked along
the length, each sparse room empty. There were hundreds of cells, one after the
other along both sides of a center stone path. Finally, Jeremy led us into a
cell which was close to the end. Inside were two small beds with thin
mattresses. Other than that, there was a sink and toilet, which thankfully had
a curtain that could be pulled across for a semblance of privacy, and a small
desk which held a few books and pens and paper.

Jeremy freed our wrists. “You are entitled to literature, art supplies,
and, once a day, outside of meal times, you can request a beverage and snack.
This is on top of the lunchtime, which happens in the main circle.” I rubbed at
my arms again. “Keep your heads down, don’t cause trouble, and this week will
be over before you know it.” He made his way back to the door. “Showers are in
the morning. You receive new prison cottons then. Mack and Sam will take you to
the circle now.” He waved at the two beefy guards before turning and leaving
our cell.

The larger of the guards moved closer. “Don’t try any bullshit moves,
Braxton.” He looked like a Mack, so I was going with that. “You know I have my
whip and I will not hesitate to use it.”

I’d seen those whips when we were captured.

Braxton didn’t remove his eyes from Mack. “Their whips have silver
imbedded into the leather. It hurts like a bitch and the healing is really
slow.”

I pulled my eyes away and narrowed them on the men. Those fuckers hit my
boys? People needed to die, seriously.

“Move it, bitch.” I was shoved out the door by Sam. I stumbled but stayed
on my feet, although my arm brushed the silver and I could feel the burn. It
was only the slightest graze, so like a mild sunburn, but it would take a while
to heal. 

“Don’t touch her.” Braxton’s voice barely changed tone, he sounded so
matter-of-fact. But whatever it was, both men backed off a little.

We traced our path back along the shifter wing, one guard in front of us
and one behind. Braxton made me go first so he was at my back and had Mack at
his. As we threaded our way through, I was starting to really understand what
the quads had tried to explain to me yesterday. Vanguard was designed like an
octopus: the large ‘main’ circular body for mingling and food, and then the
tentacle-like legs formed the different cell wings for each of the supernatural
races. Long and winding was the shifter wing. I could only assume the others
were the same.

We had to pass through many silver-coated doors, each locked with
multiple key deadbolts and hand sensor recognition. When you thought about it,
it was pretty bad judgment that they had the dragon marked in such an unsecure
location. I guess they never expected anyone would know they were even there. If
it wasn’t for Nash, we never would have known. I really hoped the little boy
was okay. I’d have to ask Braxton if they’d had time to get him set up.

Finally, we seemed to reach the main exit. It was a much larger doorway
than had been down the stone path. It took both guards to simultaneously press
their hands to the sensors to activate the unlocking mechanisms on this one. I
could hear the loud shouts and raucous uproar beyond before the door had moved
even a sliver. There was some serious intermingling going on out there. I was
relieved to find that, despite the suppressing of my wolf, my senses were still
functioning almost to normal. The security measures seemed to target just our
supernatural animal – the predator that lived inside of a shifter … except for
those bloody rabbits, they weren’t predators, they were just bitey little
shits.

The door swung open. I expected it to be slow and loud on its hinges. It
was a massive door but it opened silently. Although the noise beyond was
anything but. The shouting hit me like a slam of water in the face. And not to
mention the scents, and the pull of thousands of supernaturals. It wasn’t
exactly pleasant, and yet at the same time it brought forth memories of home.
Of pack. Of the spice and bite that made up the supernatural community.

“It’s lunchtime. Try not to get eaten.” Mack grinned his asshole grin and
left us there. The doors slammed shut again.

Braxton spun so fast I almost missed it, although I was pretty distracted
by everything beyond our position. He gripped me on either side of my body,
almost lifting me up to face him.

“Do not leave my side, do not let them separate us. They will try, you
need to be aware.” His voice was low and close to my ear. I could feel his
breath caressing my cheek. “Use your training, Jessa. One on one you have it
over all of them, but we are vastly outnumbered.”

“Do you have any friends in here from last time?” My eyes were still
trying to dart around and take in the entire room.

He nodded. “Maybe, but none that I trust. You don’t really have friends
in here, you form alliances. There are vast differences. Alliances can be
shifted easily. Many here gravitate to whomever they think is the most
powerful. In their eyes I’ll have lost much strength without my brothers.”

I swallowed. It was a visible movement. Then I schooled my face. It was
time to act tough. Well, tougher than I was currently feeling.

We strode into the middle, and unlike the movies, everything didn’t stop
so people could stare at us. Mostly no one even glanced our way. They gave zero
craps about us, and that was fine with me. My guess was that it would be in a
day or so, when someone either scented me or word got around, that we’d have
our trouble.

Braxton reached out and gripped my hand. His touch was nice, and then he
threaded our fingers together. “First thing, we walk the perimeter, learn the
layout, and then we eat.”

I nodded. My tension had me gripping his hand tighter.

The round room was massive, and I mean gi-freaking-gantic massive. It had
high stone walls, glittering with their strands of mineral and stone embedded
throughout. There was this weird half roof on sections allowing sunlight to
flood the area. We were still underground, so this was a sun of magical nature,
but it at least gave the illusion that we were outside. I swear a breeze even
ruffled my ponytail. Dead center were three huge rows of bench-seat tables and
chairs, clearly for eating. They were a lot like the cafeteria ones in
Stratford College. These tables were half-filled with supernaturals, some in
large groups, others solitary as they focused on the food in front of them.

“There are a lot of demi-fey in here,” I noted.

From my limited view I could see two ogres seated at an especially large
table, their bulbous noses the first giveaway; the second was the cobalt blue
of their stone-like skin. A hairy cousin of theirs was the source for the Bigfoot
legend. As far as I knew he was locked away in one of the Asian prison systems.
Celebrities are whisked away from their home countries. Too much exposure if
they are ever seen or manage to escape.

Just down from them was a table of tiny pixies, each about the size of a
hundred dollar bill and shaped like Barbie dolls but sort of pointier. They
fluttered around sipping their nectar. Imps could be seen playing some sort of
game across the way. Those mischievous creatures were not be trusted. Devious
and sneaky. But funny.

Braxton had followed my line-of-sight. “Yes, the demi-fey are the least
like humans. They don’t blend well and get into trouble a lot.”

There were even a few that I’d never seen up close before. Satyrs and
centaurs seemed to have their own yarded-off section. Neither were a demi-fey
breed that we’d ever had permanently in Stratford. They were actually pretty
rare nowadays. Fear mongering humans had hunted them to near-extinction. There
were four centaurs, their silky coats on the bottom half ranging from black,
brown and even a paint with white spots. The male upper halves were sort of
human-like, but with more animal infused into the features. And long manes of
hair.

The satyrs were much smaller, their cloven feet pattering across the
stone floor. I loved their tiny ears and little horns that peaked above their
curled hair.

My focus shifted as we halted near a glassed-off section. I couldn’t see
what the area was used for until we moved closer and I noticed the water
filling it. It was a tank, with water so clear it was hard to detect. My eyes
bugged a little as three mermaids raced past the glass. Supernatural mermaids
are nothing like the movies. Instead of beautiful red flowing hair, they had
green seaweed-like tendrils, jagged teeth, clawed hands, and long scaled tails.
The colors of their tails ranged from black to murky brown, and every green
shade in between. Not pretty. Ugly. Very, very ugly. And they were mean and
vicious. Killing many an unsuspecting human. I was pretty sure the legend of
the beautiful mermaid was from some of the fey sirens who used to sit out on
the rocks and lure the sailors into the deep. Yeah, we had a few skeletons in
our closet.

I was glad when we continued to move, mermaids gave me the creeps. The
next tank was filled with selkies, their smooth, seal-like bodies gliding
through the murky water. They liked it a little dirtier and brinier than their
cousins next door and unlike the mermaids, they could exist on land, transforming
back into a female. Although, the sea always called them back. Also unlike the
mermaids, they were mostly gentle and kind. Just don’t piss them off, they
could be very animalistic in their temperament.

I expected water-loving-sirens in the third tank, but it looked empty.
Which didn’t always mean anything. We continued to walk around the room.

Braxton lifted my hand, drawing my attention. “Why did you really break
back into the prison?” He was still pissed off, but he also seemed a little
hurt that I hadn’t waited for him. “I told you I’d help, you should have waited
for me.”

I wasn’t sure how to explain the drive I’d felt to save them. From the
moment all of those dirty, desperate faces had turned to me I’d been
single-minded. I’d had to save them. The more I thought on it, the more I truly
believed they were dragon marked. There was just no other explanation for that
secret room. But Braxton still didn’t know I was dragon marked, so it was hard
to explain my reasoning.

“What happened with Nash?” My segue distracted him.

Sort of.

He dropped his hooded eyes. “I’m not sure, I only had enough time to get
him to Louis. He assured me he could do some spelling and paperwork to pass him
off as an orphaned cousin. I left Nash and came looking for you.” Braxton’s
voice was smooth. Damn, that poor kid was probably freaking out without his
Braxie.

I sucked down my guilt. “How did you get to Louis so quickly?” It couldn’t
have been more than twenty minutes from when the boys exited the door till
Mischa and I were brought back to the forest.

Braxton tilted his head at me. “He was waiting in the forest when we
emerged. I think the sorcerer has some sort of tracker on you.” His smile was
feral. “He’s going to be pissed when he realizes you’re in here.”

I rubbed my nose. “As long as Nash is okay, I can live with being in
here.”

One of those poor victims was safe. Not great, but better than nothing.

Braxton snorted. “Louis, at least, has some uses. He will be instrumental
in trying to make the evidence disappear.”

I had no doubt he would be, he’d worked magic on the quads’ case and
would do the same for mine.

As I continued to observe the multitudes of demi-fey breeds scattered
around, I was struck by a thought.

“Have any demi-fey ever been dragon marked?”

Braxton met my gaze, and there was something fluttering in his eyes,
something which read deeper into that question. He finally answered, “To my
knowledge, I’ve never heard of demi-fey being marked. Mostly the accused are
shifters, and then the rest scattered amongst vamps, mages and a very limited
amount are fey.”

That was interesting. I wondered if the majority were shifters because
the original dragon king had been a shifter. Although he’d also been a sorcerer.
Maybe shifter was the side he had most related to.

“Why are you not marked?” I asked him.

He was one of the few existing dragon shifters. It made absolutely no
sense that he wouldn’t be marked.

He shrugged. “I don’t need the extra powers connected to the marked. I’m
already dragon.”

“What do you mean extra powers?” I knew so little about the mark. I’d wanted
to ask the victims from that room, but we’d never made it back.

Braxton’s eyes darted around, keeping a close watch on the other inmates
as we continued our circumvention of the mingling zone. “It’s only rumor, but
allegedly any that are marked possess an ability to partially shift into a mist
… like a dragon spirit. And they mimic many of the abilities I already possess.
In a manner, the dragon king created an army of dragons who also possess the souls
of our other races.”

No way! That was both scary and freaking awesome. I wondered if I’d have
that power if Louis released my mark. I’d sort of be like Braxton then, not a
real dragon but close. My heart ached for a moment and I had no idea why I was
feeling like that. Seriously. Maybe it was a heart attack – nah, highly
unlikely for a shifter who was only twenty-two.