“Sarge probably heard about the accident already, but you should tell him—so you can get permission to investigate it. Do you want the paper to show him the article?” Sunshine held out the paper. “I finished my crossword puzzle, so you can have it.”
“Thanks. Could you set it on the bench? I need to finish getting ready.” I was leaving my gun and daggers in my locker since I was hoping to go visit Orrin, so next I put on my gloves. I didn’t need to use the winter version just yet, but another few frigid nights and I’d make the swap.
“Sure.” Sunshine checked her cellphone. “I was hoping to stay and chat some more, but I should head home—Mom keeps sending me passive aggressive messages about dinner. Are we still on for brunch this Saturday, at your place?”
“Yes. Thanks, Sunshine. Enjoy dinner!” I tucked my gloves under the cuffs of my shirt to make sure no skin was visible, then flexed my hands, testing the fit of everything.
“Will do! Mom and Dad send their greetings!” Sunshine hopped off the bench and waved.
“Tell them I say hello!” I called after my friend as she disappeared behind a row of lockers.
“You got it!” Sunshine’s voice was bright and cheerful, then I heard the whoosh of air the door made when it was pulled open before her footsteps left the room and the door closed behind her.
Using the mirror in my locker, I slathered gel in my wild red hair and pinned it back out of my face. I then pulled up my hood and started fastening my mask.
Normally I would have left it off, but I was going to quickly drop in on Orrin and see if he wanted more tea.
I’ll have to phrase it carefully or he’s going to refuse because he’ll think I’m just trying to make him indebted to me.
Not that I was doing this without any ulterior motive. I was hoping to soften him up. He was our best lead to whatever was going on with Gisila. But I would get him the tea even if it didn’t help.
I didn’t have to be ruthless for my job anymore, so I wouldn’t be.
I finished with my mask, closed my locker, and scooped up the newspaper before making my way to the shifter department within the Cloisters.
When I reached the hallway, I was surprised to see a different werewolf guarding the door—this one was male and so burly I could have comfortably sat on one of his shoulders with room to spare.
He straightened up when he saw me, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air.
I waved and started towards the door, slowing when I felt the spicey zing of dragon magic brush my mind.
I turned around and saw Gisila about twenty feet behind me leaning against the wall.
She wasn’t there when I passed that area.
She smiled at me—making no effort to hide that she was watching me—and for some reason it made my fighting instincts kick in, as if I was going to be attacked.
I stared at her for several moments, but the feeling stuck with me.
That can’t be good. But I’m not going to avoid checking on Orrin just because she’s skulking around here—though maybe this is something I should tell Sarge, and he’ll let me further investigate her.
I turned on my heels ignoring the feeling of her gaze burning my back as I approached the burly werewolf guarding Orrin’s cell. He was wearing the task force uniform and had our patch on it and I vaguely remembered seeing him around the department, though I’d never officially met him.
“Hello, I’m…Blood.” I said, reluctantly using my nickname. “I work on the night shift of the task force,” I said.
He nodded. “You’re allowed to visit the prisoner, Ma’am.”
New guard, still ma’am. What the heck.
My regret was so encompassing, it took a moment for me to realize he was eyeing my folded newspaper.
“It’s a human newspaper—do you want me to leave it out here with you?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
I backtracked, setting the newspaper on a thick wooden bench shoved against the wall, then double checked that I’d left my weapons back in my locker.
The burly werewolf scratched the top of his head. “Today you should probably ask the prisoner all the questions you’re hoping he’ll answer.”
I paused in the middle of patting down my belt for any weapons I’d forgotten to leave behind. “P-Pardon?”
“He’s being moved to Ghast Prison.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Jade
My usual awkwardness died as work mode took over. “Did they decide his crimes were that bad?” I strode back towards him, my stride measured.
“Nope.” The werewolf shook his head. “No one’s been able to decide what to do with him. Humans are still campaigning for him to have a fine and do community service, but there’s no one powerful enough to mind him who has the time to waste supervising him. So Pre-Dominant Harka says it’s taking too long to figure out what to do and she’s spent too many werewolf resources guarding him. She wants to ship him out so the shifters are no longer responsible for him.”
“I see.” I mashed my lips together, thinking.
I didn’t blame the werewolves. Even with the task force members doing the guarding, the shifters had been housing Orrin for almost a month now—maybe a little over?
I’ll have to look at my work calendar to check.
Either way, with no end in sight, it was reasonable to want to send Orrin somewhere that would have an easier time holding him.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that if he was sent to Ghast Prison, even temporarily, we’d never get him to crack. With Gisila’s presence in the hallway, it occurred to me she might make it so Orrin never even reached Ghast Prison.
I tried to discreetly turn just enough to look back down the hallway.
As the werewolf undid the locks and magic on the door for me, Gisila pushed off the wall, waved to me, and strolled in the opposite direction.
Well. I really didn’t like that.
“Good luck,” the burly werewolf said, redirecting my attention back to him.
My awkwardness returned without my fighting instincts breathing down my neck, so I rubbed my hands together and didn’t know what to say. “Um… thanks.”
Focus. This is probably my last shot at Orrin. I can’t waste it.
I took a deep breath, then slipped into Orrin’s room.
At first glance, everything was the same. Same cot pressed against the wall with the meticulously folded blankets, same coffee pot, same boxy end table with an empty food tray on it—though this time there was a used coffee filter left on the plate, too, and the same single chair.
Orrin was seated in the single chair but Orrin, however, was not the same.
He was still seated with his perfect posture, still holding a steaming cup. But… there was something peaceful about him—like a quiet church—that he radiated. He seemed… shiny, for lack of a better word.
Is he happy he’s getting shipped out because he thinks Gisila will save him?
Orrin looked up at me. Technically, he was expressionless, but there was something about his smooth forehead and slow movements that lacked the usual calculated edge and instead oozed serenity.