Chapter 5: New Prisoner - Isolde

This sucks. I know I said I’m not one to complain, but this sucks. Even without being in this cell, I wouldn’t be able to heal and at this rate, I don’t know which might kill me first, blood loss or infection. I get the feeling these assholes don’t really care about the hygienic conditions of their dungeons. It’s not like venators have health and safety inspections. No, that would imply they cared about our well-being or saw us as human. To them, we’re less than human. They would show more respect to a dung beetle than they would to one of us.

The thing is, we may be supernatural, but we are still human too. If you looked at our blood you would still see the clear signs of the human genome. We just have some additional cells as well. Excluding irshiusts and raitruums, we all come from humans, we just have a few extra quirks. But do they care about that? No. Why? Because they all drank the Kool-Aid and now believe the sales pitch like it’s fucking gospel. It’s equally sad and pathetic.

Thankfully I’m pulled from the rabbit hole my thoughts were going down when I see two venators drag in just the person who I’ve been waiting for. I don’t move, I just watch as they throw the 6’5” man into the cell next to mine, lock it and walk away as they complain to each other about having to touch such filth. I slowly – with barely any strength in my limbs – force myself to sit up as my injuries have me biting my lips together to stop myself from screaming in pain.

I watch as the man with warm ebony skin covering muscles that would make the Grecians jealous, a shaved head and a slight goatee, manages to get to his feet and charge at the bars of his cell.

“LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” He roars, grabbing the bars and instantly regretting it. He jumps back as his hands begin to sizzle from their contact with the silver bars. Each cell is designed to hold a different supernatural being. Mine is designed for makkares, his is designed for a mutolupus.

“Best not to do that again,” I warn, “You should save your strength.”

“Who are you?” He asks with a clear American accent, walking a little closer but smartly not getting too close to the bars. His white button-down shirt is stained with blood, but to be honest, his shirt and black slacks look like they’re fighting to stay on his body. One wrong move and they might rip. Wolves really do love to work out.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m here to get you out?”

He carefully looks me over, his warm brown eyes filled with concern as he takes in the state of me, “No offence, but I don’t think you know how rescues work.”

I chuckle, which quickly turns into a coughing fit and me clutching my side, wincing from the pain. I take slow breaths to settle down. “That is a fair statement to make. My timing was incredibly poor. But I can still help you get out of here. If you’re interested.”

He looks at me, carefully weighing up his options, which I’m sure by now he realises are few and far between. He probably can’t even communicate with his wolf right now, so that other voice he’s used to turning to for guidance can’t even help him now. It would be an extremely jarring experience. To have a companion who is with you from conception, to suddenly be taken from you. I can just imagine how alone and empty that would make you feel. Suppressing a mutolupus’ wolf is just cruel, but then again these fuckers are the epitome of cruelty.

“So what’s the plan?” He asks, squatting down to my level.

With great exertion I remove the pendant from around my neck and carefully pass it to him through the bars, trying not to let them touch my skin.

“Take this,” I instruct.

He carefully takes the pendant and holds it in his palm, “This some kind of magical gemstone?”

I snort, “Nah, dragon’s breath opals look pretty, but they’re just glass. That being said, I did fuse some of my magic into it before I came here.”

“So why didn’t you use it?”

“Reason number one, I was waiting for you, and reason number two, my magic is neutralised in this cell, but in yours, it’ll have a chance to wake up. Get the pendant as close to the window as you can so when it becomes sunrise, the sun will give it a boost.”

“Then what?” He asks, getting up and making his way over to the window, sitting on the floor as close to it as he can without touching the bars.

“Then toss it at the bars and watch everything go boom,” I say tiredly.

He frowns, “How long have you been in here?”

“A couple of days.”

“You let yourself get captured and tortured just so you can save me? Why?” He asks in confusion.

I shrug, “I had a vision of you dying here. I don’t know who you are, but the fact I saw that meant I was supposed to stop it from happening and that’s all I need to know.”

He goes quiet for a moment, turning the pendant over contemplatively. “I didn’t know makkares had the gift of prophecy, I thought only Zarseti had that.”

“Only certain makkares do, but my gifts aren’t at the level of the Gods, maybe if they were I could have avoided the torture part of my stay,” I smile playfully.

“I’m Alpha Jasper Clyborne of the Aurum Obscuro Pack,” he greets warmly.

I debate whether or not to give my name but then decide, fuck it. “Isolde Laurier supposed High Priestess of the makkari,” I reply, watching him carefully. Doesn’t even take a full second for his eyebrows to shoot up to the top of his head.

“You're…”

“I’m guessing you’ve heard of me,” I say dryly as I lean my head back.

“I had heard you were responsible for aiding in the kidnapping of the nagata Empress,” he says in a low and cautious voice. My eyes blow wide with surprise. This is fucking news to me. What the fuck has that bitch framed me for this time?

“There’s a new Empress?”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “She claims to have met you.”

I snort wryly. “I'm sure she thinks she did.”

“They say you’re responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of people,” he says in an accusatory tone. His words send anger and disgust through my veins, filling my limbs with enough strength to allow me to ball my hands into fists.

“Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’d like to believe the truth,” he retorts.

“No one wants the truth. They want what’s convenient.”

“Maybe some do, but I sure as shit would like to know why the woman who supposedly helped kidnap an acquaintance of mine is now trying to break me out of a hunter’s prison in Mexico,” he says in a softer tone. I can see why the Gods would want to protect this one, I can tell he’s a good soul. “Listen, when those fuckers injected me with lupine, my first thoughts were of my Luna. She’s pregnant with our second pup and all I could think was that I’d never get to see my daughter be born. My animai would have to give birth all alone and raise our children alone. That I’d never get to see my son become Alpha. Then I got tossed in here and meet you, someone who is offering me my only chance at salvation. Giving me a chance to see my family again. So if there’s an explanation for why the two versions of you don’t add up, I’d like to hear it,” he says sincerely.

I look at him carefully and sigh in resignation, “There aren’t two versions. There’s me, and the bitch who goes around pretending to be me.”

“What do you mean?” He asks with deep interest.

“It’s a glamour spell. She’s been doing it for centuries. Takes my identity, causes some shit and sets me up to take the fall. Pretty genius plan. Means whenever eyewitnesses report to the Delegation that they saw me killing someone–”

“All they’d sense is the truth because that’s exactly what they saw,” he completes my sentence as realisation dawns on his face. “Why have you never come forward? If you could just speak to the Delegation they’d know you’re telling the truth,” he says encouragingly.

“The makkares have a kill-on-sight order for me, that’s how much they hate me – not that I blame them. There’s no guarantee the Delegation would even believe me. Sure, they’d feel the truth, but it’s not impossible to lie and it be detected as truth. Anything can become the truth if you believe it enough,” I point out.

“But you ARE telling the truth.”

“How do you know? For all you know, I just made that whole thing up,” I say as I quirk my eyebrow.

“I’m not gullible. I’m good at reading people, and psycho bitches who go around murdering people don’t let themselves get tortured to near death to save a stranger. Good people do that,” he says compassionately.

I can feel tears pricking my eyes at his words. It’s been a long time since someone believed that I was innocent, but it changes nothing. Too many people want me dead and I’m sure the evidence against me is enormous. My words wouldn’t be enough, and with too many demanding my head, I’m not sure I’d make it to the Kartheca alive to tell my truth.

“Thank you for your kind words, you don’t know how much I needed to hear them, but it’s best you stay out of the matter. People have a tendency to die because of me. Don’t go risking never seeing your family again over a stranger,” I implore him.

“But–”

“You’re not here to solve my problems, I’m here to get you back to your family, so let’s focus on that, okay?” I say, looking right into his eyes. He sighs and nods. I relax and lean my head back and close my eyes trying to save what strength I have because, in a few hours, I’m going to need every ounce I can muster.