A Den of Tricks Read online

  He inhaled deeply, then released me and continued descending the stairs. We quietly followed. Several minutes later, we reached the prison. The temperature had dropped by a couple degrees, further confirming that we were deep underground.

  There was a large iron gate ahead, which the Mara unlocked and pulled to the side, allowing us access into the prison.

  “I’ll be waiting here,” he said.

  I nodded and followed Blaze inside. The cellblocks spread out around us in the huge cylindrical space. Correction Officers patrolled each level and the narrow passageways linking different sides. Hopeless whimpers and moans trickled out from the cages below on the ground level, sending chills down my spine.

  We made it to the bottom, where the tunnels awaited, completely sealed with thick blocks of limestone.

  “Well, good to see they held up their end of the bargain and closed off the tunnels,” I muttered, and got the charmed satchels out of my backpack.

  “It was in their best interests, after all,” Blaze replied. He then took a compass out from his back pocket and flipped it open. “Okay, let’s do east first, since it’s right here.”

  We moved closer to the wall to our right. Blaze used a metal pick he’d brought with him from upstairs to carve a hole through the stone, while I carefully looked around. Fiona had left our side, looking for Demios.

  I paid close attention to the Correction Officers, noticing their stern and somewhat concerned expressions as their eyes followed us around. They were most likely on edge, after the explosions—not that they’d been the friendliest dudes the day before, but still, I had to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  They’d lost dozens of Maras and Imen up there; surely they weren’t used to such a high number of casualties. Some of the victims could very well be family members.

  I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that the prison gave me, though. The moans of nearby prisoners kept tying my stomach up in knots. I caught glimpses of their profiles in different cages. From what I could tell, the bottom level was for the worst offenders, comprised of small and seemingly uncomfortable iron cages, while the cells above provided more space and even single beds for the inmates.

  “I wonder what they’re in here for,” I mumbled, holding the charmed satchels in my hands.

  “Probably thieves, murderers, and traitors,” Blaze replied, somewhat absently, as he carved a hole deep enough for one of the satchels. “I have a hard time thinking they’re all innocent.”

  “I don’t doubt you’re right.” I sighed as he took one of the charm bags and shoved it into the hole. “I’m just wondering what got them here in the first place. I mean, Arrah said her brother was innocent, for example. He was accused of treason, conspiring against the city, but they didn’t give any details. They just hauled his butt to jail…”

  “Fair enough. That’s one guy who might not belong here. What about the rest of them?” He glanced at me, his hands busy covering the satchel in the hole with the chunks of rock he’d carved out. “I mean, people of all species commit crimes. It’s obviously in our natures—be we dragons, fae, vampires, or humans. As members of GASP, we’ve seen it over and over. Then we got here and… Well, it’s the same.”

  “Do you think they deserve to die, though?”

  I wanted to better understand Blaze. He offered viewpoints that were dramatically simple, but very honest. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the thoughts he did voice, he dispensed carefully and eloquently. I liked that about him.

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think any of us are capable of determining who deserves to die and who doesn’t. I’ve killed plenty of creatures so far, but they were all trying to kill us first… Self-defense, you know? But these people here? I doubt it. I bet they’re already paying for their crimes.”

  Blaze had a point. Even if Arrah was right and her brother was, indeed, innocent, we couldn’t be sure about the other prisoners. Maybe they did deserve to be behind bars. Then again, maybe they didn’t. With everything else that was going on in this city, the Exiled Maras’ legal system was slipping farther down to the bottom of our priorities list.

  I only hoped that the charmed satchels would work this time around. After the attack on the Lords’ mansions, we desperately needed a win against the daemons, even if it was in the form of a protective spell.

  Too many lives depended on us, including our own.

  Blaze

  We moved over to the south side of the prison, occasionally looking around at the cages in the middle. Most of the prisoners were Imen of different ages, but I’d seen a couple of Maras, too. They were all chained, dirty, and weak, barely moving, and their eyes had sunk into their heads.

  I carved a hole into the southern wall, while Caia kept me company. The Correction Officers didn’t seem very happy to see us, but I’d already gotten used to their natural reluctance toward outsiders. It was mostly a cultural thing, from what I could tell. However, they had no choice but to let us do our jobs—we were trying to protect them, too, after all.

  “I still find it weird how fast the daemons moved to plant those explosives,” Caia murmured.

  Once I was done with the hole, she handed me another satchel.

  “That is, if the daemons were behind this attack,” I replied. Frankly, I wasn’t convinced. Sure, the prison was suspicious, but not suspicious enough to make me think less of the Exiled Maras. But the timing just didn’t fit.

  “You think someone else did it?” She raised her eyebrows, and I needed a second to pull myself out of the deep teal pools of her eyes. Caia was simply mesmerizing.

  “I wouldn’t exclude the possibility just yet. Think about it this way: they had to have precise knowledge about the mansions and the servants’ movements to be able to plant explosives in the Xunn mansion. Based on our last study of their patterns—at least before we met Tobiah and Sienna—the daemons were barely expanding their hunting grounds up to the second level of the city. As far as we know, Tobiah was the only daemon to reach the top floor, and he’s been keeping his distance since he took Sienna. Maybe the daemons had inside help.”

  “Who do you think would be willing to assist the very creatures trying to kill them?” she asked, as I covered the hole. We walked along the edge of the wall until we reached the western side.

  The Correction Officers’ eyes followed us around as they patrolled the higher levels.

  “Maybe someone who had a bone to pick with the Lords themselves.” I shrugged, then stopped and carved another hole. “We know there are rebel Imen living on the other side of the gorge. Maybe they have loved ones here. Maybe they can’t get back to each other because of the Exiled Maras, for example. It’s just a shot in the dark, but you never know. Or maybe even the Exiled Maras themselves. What if they have some deal going on with the daemons that we know nothing about?”

  “That’s highly unlikely.” Caia rejected the premise without hesitation. “Scratch that. It’s downright impossible. They killed Darius and dozens of Maras in the process. Even if they were conspiring with the daemons—and, by default, shamelessly lying to us—they wouldn’t kill their own. No, this was definitely aimed at the Exiled Maras. And frankly, given the tunnels leading up to the higher levels of the mountain… I’m thinking maybe the daemons have been lurking around those parts for longer than we initially presumed. Maybe they’ve been studying the Maras and spying on them for months, even years.”

  “That might explain how they had such knowledge of the mansions in the first place.” I nodded as she handed me the third satchel. Our fingers touched, and an electric tingle rushed through my arms, heating me up on the inside.

  She had a fascinating effect on me. There was something between us, though I’d yet to formulate coherent thoughts about it. I could feel our chemistry, as it thickened the air whenever we were close to each other. Caia kept me on high alert and had even slipped into my dreams. But my celibacy oath took precedence. I didn’t want to put her through
the ordeal of waiting around for me. It wasn’t fair to her.

  At the same time, I could feel my resolve slowly withering away as we orbited around one another like two neutron stars about to collide and explode into a sea of light. The more time I spent near her, the more I disliked my paternal heritage. The oath had made sense to me when I took it.

  To be fair, it still did. But something tugged at my heart, pulling me closer to Caia, and all I could think of was losing myself in her fire. I bit my lower lip and focused on covering the western hole, pushing the rubble in to cover the satchel.

  “It does make sense.” Caia continued our conversation, though I did catch the tremor in her voice. I affected her as much as she did me, and she wasn’t very good at hiding it, either. I found that endearing, and it made me fall even deeper. “If they already knew what the key spots in the Xunn mansion were, along with the movements of Iman servants, the daemons could have easily performed an in-and-out operation to plant the explosives.”

  “Which would mean that their advancement to the second level of the city only relates to their hunting practices, not their actual knowledge of the city. So, in a way, the attack was their way of telling us not to underestimate them,” I concluded, and couldn’t stop myself from smiling at her. “You’re brilliant, did you know that?”

  Caia stared at me, her cheeks blossoming a beautiful pink. My heart faltered as liquid fire pulled through me. This girl was going to really put me to the test, and she didn’t even know it. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get my senses back under control, then carved the last hole into the northern side of the prison wall.

  “Thank you, I guess?” she replied softly, her lips stretching into a smile.

  There were two ways I could see this ending. Caia was intense, and I knew she would set me on fire—even in a literal sense, if I ever crossed her. This chemistry between us would either fizzle out or make me break my celibacy oath. I doubted I’d ever be able to hold onto any half-measure with her.

  Her voice alone was enough to make my whole body buck and accumulate pressure, and I feared that only her kiss, her touch, would be able to free me. After that, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop. Judging by the way her pupils flared whenever I got close to her, I had a feeling she’d be right there with me.

  “Okay, we’re done here,” I said, clearing my throat as I finished covering the fourth hole. “We’re off to the top, right?”

  “Yup.” She nodded and walked back to the metal stairs leading up to the iron gate we’d come through. “Not sure there are any walls left for us to paint, but four trees pointing north, south, east, and west will do the trick.”

  The Correction Officer who had escorted us down to the prison straightened his back when he saw us. He’d been leaning against a nearby wall, looking rather lost. They were all affected by the explosion—some more than others.

  “Where to next?” he asked us.

  There was a willingness to be around us glimmering in his eyes. I hadn’t noticed it before. He, like all the other Maras working for Lord Kifo, did his best to keep his emotions to himself. But he seemed to warm up to us, in his own way. I figured our presence helped dampen the anxiety that had probably permeated his facade in the wake of the attack.

  “Upstairs to the top level,” I replied. “We need to repaint some warding symbols.”

  He nodded and went up the spiral staircase. It was a long way to the Lords’ mansions, but I still had plenty of adrenaline coursing through me since the explosions. I looked over my shoulder and noticed Caia staring at me, her eyes wide and filled with thoughts I wished I could understand.

  We followed the Correction Officer up the stairs, leaving Fiona down in the prison to look for Demios. She knew where to find us afterward, anyway. I took Caia’s hand in mine somewhere along the way. Her skin felt warm and soft against mine, soothing my very soul. She didn’t seem to mind, either.

  Fiona

  (Daughter of Benedict & Yelena)

  I had enough invisibility paste in my system for about one hour, plus two equal reserves in my backpack—one for me, and one for Demios, provided I found him. It took me a while to familiarize myself with the prison layout, especially with the cages on the bottom level.

  Blaze and Caia left with the Correction Officer, while I continued to check every cage. The search process gave me an opportunity to get a better look at the prisoners. They all looked malnourished, weak, and simply out of their minds. Some were unconscious, lying on their bellies. Iron cuffs restricted their movements, the rough, unpolished metal digging into their bony ankles and wrists. Most of them had been in there for weeks, months, even years, but a couple seemed rather new to the “party” and had slightly more alert eye movements.

  I had a feeling they’d be more useful to me than the others. Looking through the entire prison for Demios was going to take more than one hour, if I relied solely on myself. It couldn’t hurt to ask one of the inmates.

  There was one, in particular, who caught my eye. A young Iman male, maybe in his early twenties. His brown clothes were tattered and dusty, and the wounds on his bare shins and forearms were scabbing. He glanced around, exuding an air of hopelessness that gave me a mild stomachache. I moved closer to his cage, and noticed his blue eyes—pupils strangely dilated. Based on what Heron had told me about the side effects of mind-bending, this Iman was definitely under the Mara influence.

  I couldn’t reveal myself, but I needed to talk to him.

  Here goes nothing…

  “Please don’t be alarmed,” I said slowly.

  The Iman’s head shot up, then turned left and right, his eyes wide as the color drained from his face.

  “I’m right here,” I whispered, stepping forward. “You can’t see me because I’m cloaked.”

  “Da… da… daemon…” He was horrified, slowly slipping to the back of his cage. His mouth opened as he prepared to scream from the bottom of his lungs.

  Of course he thinks I’m a daemon. I’m freakin’ invisible!

  “No, no, no, I’m not a daemon! Please, please be quiet,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “I’m here because I need to find my friend. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I would’ve already, if I wanted to.”

  He breathed heavily, almost hyperventilating, as he processed my words. He exhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping as he concluded that, indeed, I wasn’t going to hurt him. He was definitely more alert than the others, but still physically weakened.

  “What… What do you want?” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest, his cuffs jingling with each movement. “Who are you? How do I know you’re not a daemon, just playing with my head?”

  That last one was a stretch. Even he probably knew it, given how his voice pitched higher toward the end of the question.

  “I’m definitely not a daemon because if I were, I’d literally be draining the life out of you, and you probably know that, after last night.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. He couldn’t see me, though, which was a shame. It would’ve made my statement a lot more dramatic. “I’m Fiona, and I’m using the same cloaking spell that the daemons are using.”

  “How… How did you get it?” He blinked several times, visibly dazed.

  “That’s a long story. What’s your name?”

  “Merin,” he replied, not sure where to look, since he could see right through me.

  “Merin, why are you in prison?” I asked, trying to get the ball rolling, as I noticed him slowly loosening up.

  “I… I stole gold from a Mara lady,” he sighed, guilt drawing shadows on his pale face. He wrapped his arms around his calves, pulling his legs closer to his chest. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here… A few months, maybe a year… If I live that long.”

  “Why wouldn’t you live through it? Are they hurting you in here?”

  His bitter chuckle made me rethink my question. He looked terrible, obviously not the recipient of any five-star treatment.

  This is
prison, Fiona. And it’s not your world. Focus!

  I would’ve made a fantastic human rights campaigner, had I not been born and raised in The Shade.

  “Did you not see those creatures trying to kill us last night?” he muttered, resting his forehead on his knees. “Not that I could see them, per se… but I could hear them. The others screaming and crying out in agony… They didn’t reach my cage, but the others behind you… they didn’t stand a chance…”

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw the empty cages—six of them, to be precise, the iron bars bent, the locks broken, and the shackles discarded in a corner.

  “What happened to the bodies?” I asked.

  “The Correction Officers took them away, I guess… I don’t know, I’m mostly sleeping these days…”

  “Merin, I don’t think the daemons will come back,” I told him. “We’ve sealed the tunnels, and we put a protection spell over the city. Hopefully last night was the last time you will see them.”

  He shrugged, then let a sigh roll out of his chest. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, though he deserved to be in here. You’re supposed to pay for your crimes, after all.

  “Hopefully,” he echoed.

  “How did you know about the daemons? How did you know they’re called daemons?” I asked.

  “They’ve been… part of our folklore for ages,” he murmured, staring blankly ahead. His tone felt a bit automated. “They’re evil and big, with red eyes and long claws… and they eat your soul.”

  “Was last night the first time you saw them, so to speak?”

  Merin blanked out for a moment, as if looking for the memory. He shook his head.

  “I… I think so. I’d remember it. Right?”

  “Why are you asking me? Were you mind-bent?” I replied.

  “Would I know if I was mind-bent?” The corner of his mouth twitched. Yeah, he was definitely mind-bent, and I wasn’t going to get much out of him regarding the prison.