Words of Power (Alice Gray Book 3)

25

I only realised that I'd been staring at Wolfy for too long when he began to shuffle around, an adorable blush heating his pale brown skin. He shucked his long greasy hair forward to hide his red face.

My eyes stayed on him while my mind wandered back to my father in the clutches of the vampires. Gradually I noticed just how dirty and bedraggled he was. Old denim shirt, patchy and stained with nasty looking marks. Black slacks worn at the knees and covered in blotches of stiff matter. I didn't want to linger on what the stains might be, I'd already seen Wolfy in action. He might be young, but he could fight.

I waved to get his attention and then pointed to the shower and the white suit that was laid out waiting for him. His eyes bugged out of his head, cheeks brightening even further.

It took me a second to realise, but when I did, heat climbed up my own face. I went over to my bed and sat with my back to the glass wall.

He'd better hurry because there was no way to tell how long I'd given him before I turned back round. Sight was my only functioning sense in here, and you never realise how much you rely on scent and hearing until they are taken away from you.

It's why I didn't hear anything when they unlocked my door. Something, some movement in the air, told me to move, and I turned just as the sharp pin-prick of a needle sank into my shoulder.

Twisting my head round and looking past the blank-faced guards, Wolfy was throwing himself at the glass wall, the fury in his eyes sparking the silver energy inside me to life despite whatever tranquiliser had been in that needle.

Four sets of meaty fingers reached towards me at once, my cotton-wool brain turning them into sausages with little faces.

Great. I was tripping. But I could still fight, I reminded myself through the joyous little song that the sausage-fingers danced to as they waggled towards me.

Rocking onto my back, I slammed my legs into the guard on the right. He stumbled back, not far, but it was enough for me to roll low off the bed onto the floor, evading the other sausages that swiped the place that I had just vacated.

As I scrambled to the other side of the cell, I focused inwards trying to call my silver life-force out. I could feel it within, multiplying fast and hot, and I suspected that it was the reason I wasn't out cold. But if it was taking all of my magical energy to fight the poison, that meant I'd have to rely on my hand-to-hand combat skills to get me out of this mess.

Thank God for Emily and her endless, punishing training sessions.

The guards were taking their time, and I used the spare seconds to study them. These guys were big. I mean really big. Made of muscle and brawn and not much else judging by the vacant looks on their round moon-faces. Even the one that I'd booted in the head didn't look angry, or even riled. Barely even in pain, despite the thick, slow blood running down his chin from a split lip.

I'd thought they were human because I couldn't sense anything from them, but now their big passive faces and large bald skulls made me wonder if they were something else. Some other experiment that hadn't gone quite right, like Frankenstein's monster.

Whatever they were, they were determined and they could easily take me with their advantage in strength and numbers. All I could hope when I sprung up fighting was that they really were as dull as their vacant expressions suggested.

Targeting the already injured one, my body took over, executing a high roundhouse kick by instinct. Emily had drummed that one into my muscle memory during a particularly painful session. My head spun at the thought of it.

Or was that the drug in my system?

I pushed the question back. No point in dwelling on what ifs, action was what was needed now. Unfortunately, that was the only fancy move I knew, so when he stumbled back and the other one grabbed me by the shoulder with his meaty sausage fingers and yanked me off balance, I used the most important lesson Emily had taught me, and kneed him in the balls.

If you're fighting for survival there's no such thing as fighting dirty.

Because my magic hadn't quite burnt the tranquiliser out of my system, the whole fight played out like a slow-motion psychedelic ballet featuring me dance-fighting against sausage fingered monsters.

Weird.

But not as weird as the light shutting off. It was only dark for a second before red emergency lighting flickered on, bathing the cells in an off-putting bloody filter. The alarm sounded in the next split-second, loud, aggressive and really, really annoying.

I looked at the guards, we were frozen in out fighting stances. As one, their bodies relaxed before all three of them walked out of the cells, not even bothering to look back.

Immediate threat having disappeared, my body faltered and then sagged before I reached the door that had been left open. I caught myself before I fell, but not before I smashed my shin on the iron bedframe. Bracing myself against the offending furniture, I let the stream of profanity flow from my mouth unabridged. I mean, nobody could hear me over the alarm anyway. And even if they could, I wasn't claiming to be a lady.

"That's enough, sailor," a deep but clear voice said from above me.

I flinched back in surprise, only to find my fellow young criminal standing over me, brown eyes clouded with concern. That was not how I had imagined him to sound.

"We don't want them to remember about us just yet, sounds like they've got other troubles."

"Let's get out of here," I said, taking his hand to steady myself. My face cracked into a wince as pain throbbed through my leg.

"Not so fast, I've tried that before. They'll be back before we can get out."

"What shall we do then?"

"Tell me how you did it?"

I looked at him, brows tight with confusion.

"How did you fight through the drug?"

"Magic," I said, as the lights returned to normal and the door to my cell slammed shut.

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