“Prisoners in Sector Q prepare for cleansing!” The Insectus pulls down one of the levers and a section of prison doors swing wide open. Once the inmates stumble out of their cells, the Insectus guards shuffle them onto the main floor of the space. I see humans, angels, and even a few high-ranking demons. Kiya bounces happily on my shoulder, gesturing wildly at Nefer, who strolls out with the rest of the group.
While I’m happy to see Nefer, she’s not who really has my attention. A tall woman inmate with blue-green hair and matching eyes is scanning the prison block, her nostrils flaring as she catches a scent on the air. Through her ragged sheath-dress, I can clearly see her armscales, the sign that this prisoner is a full-blooded Furor or damned close. That means she can take dragon form if she’s strong enough. Her tail’s also identical to mine, only the scales are colored bluish-green instead of black. All of this adds up to one possible disaster.
She’s Furor, and Furor have an extraordinary sense of smell.
The woman stares right to our hiding spot in the ceiling. Her face reminds me of an eel: oval-shaped with a long nose and small button eyes.
Lincoln taps my shoulder. “What’s her tribe?”
“Enchelys tribe. Eel dragons. They draw their power from water.”
“Friendly?”
“Water dragons are the oldest types around. Not necessarily friendly or not. They keep to their own.”
The woman’s tail arches over her shoulder and waves in my direction. I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp of shock.
Unholy Hell. She’s going to blow our cover.
Before I can stop it, my tail darts down a gap in the tubing so the arrowhead end peeps through the pipes. It waves enthusiastically to her before I can yank it away.
I smack the arrowhead end. “Bad boy!” I hiss. My tail slinks to hide behind my ankle, where it will undoubtedly sulk for awhile. Damn that thing and its independent mind.
The Furor smiles knowingly and returns her attention to the Insectus guards. My heart beats so hard, I’m surprised the entire cell block can’t hear it. Seconds pass and the Furor doesn’t make any move to speak to her jailers.
“It doesn’t look like she’ll expose us,” whispers Lincoln.
“Not any more than she already has.” Fortunately, another prisoner has noticed our hiding place. Nefer. Her blue eyes linger on our spot in the ceiling a second too long to be coincidence, and that’s good.
I press my palms onto my eyes, trying to force a plan out of my skull. My thoughts keep returning to one image: the eel Furor. Get that prisoner some water and she could cause serious damage, creating a diversion that would allow us to take Nefer. On the floor below, the Insectus Commander starts rounding up prisoners. Unlike the other demons, the Commander’s exoskeleton is all-black.
“Gather in the center, you lot!” he cries.
The eight prisoners move to stand in the center of the room, which I now notice has grillwork as a floor.
The Commander points to the Furor. “Not you!”
A trio of guards drags the Furor toward the wall. She struggles against their grasp. “This is Class 1 Solitary!” She cries. “You’re not allowed to torture me like this.”
“And you’re not allowed to attempt to escape,” says one of the nearby guards. “The Commander has ordered this punishment for you. Be thankful you weren’t sent to the torture pits.”
Once the Furor is restrained, another Insectus pulls on a wall-lever. A series of plastic pipes snake down from the ceiling, pointing toward the group of prisoners at different angles. The Insectus flips another lever and water blasts at the inmates.
The Furor shrieks in pain and want. Her skin is dry and scaly; she clearly craves water. However, giving her any will only recharge her strength. The guards can’t let that happen; no one wants an angry dragon on their hands. Still, making her stand so close to the water she so desperately needs is cruel.
“Now’s our chance,” I whisper. “You have plenty of water left in your pack, right?”
Lincoln’s eyes grow large with realization. “On it.” He rushes to the far wall of the prison, right above where the Furor is held. His movements are a blur as he pulls his water jug out from his pack, uncaps the top, and pours the contents through a gap in the pipes. The steam is directed right for the Furor.
The moment the first drops of water strike the Furor, she changes. Her muscles instantly plump; her skin takes on a glittering hue. The dragon prisoner leans back, her mouth open, and guzzles water in fast gulps.
The guards quickly notice. “There’s a break in a pipe,” cries one.
Another yanks the Furor away. “Let’s get her back to her cell.” His antennae-fingers bite into her arms. “Move it, you!”
But the Insectus are already too late.
The Furor’s body hisses and crackles as she transforms from a slender woman into a full-grown dragon the size of a pick-up truck. Her long tail whips around her, crushing Insectus demons with every swipe.