Chapter 1
There had been brief moments during the last several weeks when I thought things couldn’t get worse, but as tension continued to rise within the prison, I realized how wrong I had been.
More than a month had passed since I arrived at Mandora Supernatural Prison, a place for magical beings who may or may not have broken a law or two. I, for example, had only broken the rules by accident, but the warden didn’t care. From the moment he found out I could manipulate others, he’d stopped at nothing to make me his prisoner.
Warden Gillian was a Grade A douche, but for some unknown reason, I was still trying to help the psycho get his son back. Correction, I knew exactly why I was helping the warden—I wanted my freedom back, and that didn’t include being on the run for the rest of my life.
When—not if—I got out of prison, it was going to be for all the right reasons, not because I escaped, which would have been quite easy to do considering I left the prison almost weekly with the Fabled Four. My guys who were complete assholes to everyone else and only jerks to me as of recently.
I’d apparently grown on them like fungus and they hadn’t been able to get rid of me.
The threats from my feisty fairy sidekick Nixie helped with that, too. She kept them from manhandling me like they had when I first arrived in the prison. Instead of Jaxon attempting to choke me when I pissed him off now, he merely glared and yelled. Most of the time, anyway. It was a daily battle with him as we fought through our sexual tension.
The pent-up emotions between me and Jaxon had gotten so bad that poor Blake, the empath of our misfit group, could barely stand to be in the same room with us. I assumed it was like watching a porno without actually seeing the goods, and Blake couldn’t handle the sexual feelings being tossed around. That made me grin. A lot.
During the last few weeks, I’d healed up from our vampire run-in with the help of Mason, the fae of our group who had moderate healing abilities, before letting each of the guys and Nixie turn me into a battle-worthy witch. I’d had street training from spending most of my teen years in a group home, and being scrappy already helped considerably when it came to defending myself. But precision went a long way and I needed more concise moves if I planned to stay alive.
Our training took place daily in the prison gym when the other inmates were forced outside or stuck doing menial jobs. Since then, I’d built muscle in places I didn’t know could even get muscles.
Most of that wasn’t so bad. It was the tension between everyone that was slowly drowning me. Oddly enough, I missed the days when they all took turns yelling at me or hazing me in front of the other prisoners. Instead, it seemed like everyone was walking on eggshells, and I had no clue which of us was going to explode first.
“If that furball doesn’t stop staring every time we see him, I’m going to cut his eyes out,” Mason droned, complaining about Owen, the lion shifter, as we entered our lair.
We’d passed by him on our way back to the room, and he’d waved at me while appraising each of the guys without putting off any of the fear most inmates did.
“I vote you send him through a portal to Siberia. A lot less effort than dealing with him around here, if you ask me,” Spencer added.
“Well, nobody asked you,” I snapped.
Owen had been nothing but respectful since I declined his offer to help get me out of the prison. While it had seemed enticing at the time, he was a bigger risk than I was willing to take. I cared too much about my Fabled Fuckers to say yes to the unknown shifter.
Though, I had no problem being my defiant self and standing up for him, either. Some habits were harder to break than others.
Jaxon snarled at me and I glared back. “What?”
He shook his head and didn’t respond. Since I’d told him I needed space, the infuriating demon only talked to me when he was demanding something during training. My rejection of his efforts to have something more between us had put the biggest damper on our group vibe.
Blake rubbed his temples and paced around. “I’m going to my room. The two of you should do the same. Together.” He glared pointedly at Jaxon and me before slamming his door shut.
“You guys are going to kill Yeti,” Mason said bluntly.
“Shut it, Gunner,” Jaxon replied as I continued to the bathroom to take a shower.
We’d spent the morning training on orbs. I could finally pool magic together in each hand and either use the energy separately or merge them together. The act was tiresome, though, and caused me to sweat my ass off, so I needed to de-stink myself.
Shutting the door behind me, I ignored Mason’s complaints about needing to take a shit and locked the handle with my abilities. Another fun perk Nixie had taught me. The one thing I’d been disappointed in with my training was being unable to repeat the shocking ability I’d used when the vampire in Chicago had tried to kill me.
The guys had assumed it was an instinctual reaction I’d be able to repeat in time or if I was ever in another life or death situation. The latter seemed more likely to happen than the former.
I glanced in the mirror, reached a hand up to my fairy friend, then set her on the counter. “You’ve been awfully quiet today.”
She shrugged and got comfy on the washcloth while I unbraided my hair. “Just been thinking.”
My brow raised. “About?”
“I may need to leave,” she said, and I was surprised to hear a bit of sadness in her voice. Nixie was never sorry about anything. Honestly, I had expected her to leave weeks ago, but our friendship had continued to grow, so I never mentioned anything about her abandoning me to deal with the Fabled Four on my own.
“Uh, what the hell are you talking about? Did something happen? If one of those Fabled Fuckers did something to you, I will shove my foot so far up their ass they won’t walk right for a year.”
She grinned. “As much as I would love to see that happen, it has nothing to do with you guys. Weirdly enough, you’ve all grown on me, some more than others. It’s just, the stronger I see you get, the more I’m pissed the hell off that my powers are still diluted. I need to speed up the growth process of my wing and make sure the damage done by that damn disaster demon isn’t permanent.”
The hatred in her tiny face made me shiver. If Luxor wasn’t already dead, I’d almost feel bad for him. Nixie still wasn’t over losing her wing and I didn’t blame her. It had consequences she hadn’t been prepared for.
“Where will you go? Do you have a fairy world or family you’ve never mentioned that would help?” It wouldn’t surprise me if one existed and I didn’t know about it.
“No, the family I did care for is long deceased, and the others I rarely claim. They very well could be dead as well, and were too vicious even for my liking. I didn’t get the torture-love gene like the rest of them and it made for an awkward growing up until I left. Anyway, that was all centuries ago. I need to see Greggor. That slimy demon will know what to do. Somehow, the shithead knows everything. As annoying as it is, it’s useful for a price.”
Ah, poor Nixie. After my first meeting with a psychotic fairy when I was arrested, I knew what she meant about the torture-love. The little bug that told me I’d broken witch laws had held no humanity in her little body when she’d made me almost bleed to death before Jaxon and Mason showed up.