Tay wakes up to the sound of water dripping. She opens her eyes, then immediately squeezes them shut to stop the daylight from stabbing her eyeballs. She comes to the quick realization that everything hurts. Her head feels like it has a second head inside of it. There’s a heat behind her eyes that won’t go away no matter how much she paws at them. Her jaw makes a fun new clicking noise when she tries to move it up and down. Even with her eyes closed, and even while staying in a tightly curled up ball on the floor, Tay can gather enough information to know that this mission has gone irreversibly south.
The sun, which is currently keeping her eyelids closed under penalty of stinging headache, is up in the sky. This means that it is, at the very least, one morning after her break in of Camp Trin. In other words, she’s failed. What’s worse, judging by the sensation of cool linoleum on the floor beneath her and the fact that her two satchels aren’t on her waist, she’s been captured. She groans, both out of pain and out of self-loathing, but then realizes that this might actually be a good thing. If she’s already failed her mission, then she’d rather be locked away here -- wherever here is -- than back home. She laughs quietly to herself, then groans in pain as her lungs punch against her likely broken ribs. She rolls over onto her back and shoves the palms of her hands into her eyes.
“Moahnin’, sunshine.” Tay recognizes the voice without needing to see who its coming from. Or, more accurately, she recognizes the accent and the volume. The pizza boy from the bar last night. But why the hell is she with him?
Tay groans. “What’s going on?” She tries to sit up, but pain crashes through her chest and she lies back down on the floor, her hands still rubbing her eyes.
“What’s going on is that I was mindin’ my own business, just tryin’ to make an honest living, then some lisah from Seven Cities tries to stiff me and not pay for my pizzas. I kick the shit out of her-- cause that’s what I’m good at and that’s what she deserved-- then I try to go on my merry way home, but theah’s these town guahds runnin’ around the front gate like chickens with theah heads cut off. Next thing I know, they throw me in heah. Said I’d have a chance to talk to the wahden tomorrow, and, well, would you look at the time, it’s tomorrow and still no wahden. So what’s goin’ on is that I’m very fuckin’ pissed and I wanna go home and get outta this shitty excuse for a town.” Although he yelled pretty much the entirety of that rant, he put some extra emphasis on the last five words.
That’s a little bit more information than Tay needed, but it does confirm her suspicions that she’s in some kind of prison. She finally manages to sit up and open her eyes. Her cell, which is about six yards wide and long, is entirely empty other than her and a bucket. Iron bars stand between her and the rest of the cell block, which looks to be fairly small. There’s a walkway beyond the bars, and beyond that is another cell identical to hers, through which Cannon the pizza boy peers at her. He’s still wearing the lacrosse jersey and athletic shorts, but his padding, helmet, messenger bag, and lacrosse stick are all gone.
Finding her strength, Tay rushes up to the bars in front of her, yanking on them and also trying to get a better view of her surroundings. “Where is he?” To her left, the central walkway ends in a closed door. To her right, she sees another cell diagonally across from her. Because of the angle, only part of that cell is visible. She squishes her face up against the bars to get a better view, and she can see a pair of legs extending out from a body that must be sitting up against the wall that joins with Cannon’s. The legs look a bit too thin and feminine to belong to Lex, but there must be another cell directly next to hers.”Where is he?” She yanks harder against the bars.
“Tough luck, kid. You’d gotta be some kinda grizzly beah to bend those bahs. I mean, look at this, you see this?” He flexes his biceps. “Yeah, I know, pretty sick. But look at this.” He tugs on the bars. They don’t budge. “If I can’t do it, nobody can. Believe that.”
“Yeah, not so sure about that,” Tay mumbles. She thinks back to her altercation last night. The woman who threw her around like it was nothing. What was that strength? And, more importantly, what happened afterwards. And, potentially most importantly of all, where the hell is Lex? She calculates that she’s got about a 0.002% chance of completing this mission successfully, and it hinges on Lex being a live and in her control. “Where the fuck is he?”
“Listen, kid, I’m askin’ the same question you ah. I wanna talk to this wahden guy and give him a piece of my mind.”
“Not the warden. Where’s the kid?”
“Who?”
“The kid. The prince, you were talking to him last night.”
“The-- no way, you’ah kiddin’ me. The prince? You believe that shit? Some kid wandering around Camp Trin of all places, he calls himself the prince and you’ah like, ‘oh, yeah, dang that kid must be the prince,’ ah you kiddin’ me? Guess you and I ah different cause I wasn’t bohn yestahday.”
“I don’t have time for this. I need to get out of here.” She examines the iron door in front of her. A chain is wrapped around the bars and a metal loop jutting out of the wall, a large iron lock keeping the chain secured. She presses her finger against the keyhole. “There’s gotta be a key around here somewhere.”
“Uh, yeah, I think I know exactly where it is. The wahden’s keychain, duh. And in case you haven’t heahd, he hasn’t been around yet. And when he does, you’ah gonna have to wait in line ‘cause I’m talkin’ to him first. Theah’s not a single reason why I should be in heah.”
Tay’s not listening. She’s jingling the lock up and down, peeking inside the keyhole, trying to figure out any way to bust it open.
“So, whatcha in foah?”
“I’m busy.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Looks like you’ah makin’ a lot of progress theah. You’ah neahly outta heah.”
“Stop talking.”
“Hey, whenevah you get finished at whatevah cloud cuckoo land you’ah at, make suah you bring me some unicoahn ice cream, always wanted to try that.”
“Shut up.”
“While you’ah at it, say hi to all the old gods foah me, I heah they like to hang out with leprechauns and fairies.”
Tay slams down the lock, crashing it loudly against the iron bars. “Would you shut up?”
A groan from the cell next to Cannon. “Would you both shut up?”
Tay’s eyes go wide. She pushes her face up against the bars again so she can see the diagonal cell. The pair of legs that she saw before start to stand up, then walk to the cell door and reveal themselves to be attached to a young woman. “Who are you?” Tay asks.
“Rach.”
“Rach? Rach who? ”
“Yeah, you’re obviously not from here, so I don’t really know what you were hoping to get out of ‘who are you?’ Feels like a pretty dumb question.”
“Okay, Rach, are you someone who can get me out of here?”
Cannon chimes in. “Us, us, can you get us out of heah?”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Tay shakes her head. “I’m not with him.”
“Yeah, but I wanna get out of heah, too.”
“Well shucks,” Rach starts, digging into her pockets, “Yeah, let me just grab my magic skeleton key that I can use to unlock any door. I never leave home without it. I’m only hanging out in here because I just really like the vibe, I could leave any time.”
“Go to Hell,” Tay scowls.
Rach makes some finger guns. “Already here, baby. Anyway, now that you’ve got all your stupid questions out of your system, can you please shut up? I got a real bitch of a hangover.”
Cannon looks to his left. He and Rach share a wall, so they can’t see each other. He squishes his face up against the bars in a futile attempt to try to see her. “Wait a minute. You, ovah theah. I recognize that voice.”
Rach smiles. “Oh yeah? You hear it in your dreams?”
“No, I fuckin’ heah it slurrin’ its words all ovah the bah last night while I was poundin’ that big York kid’s face in.”
“You-- holy shit, pizza guy?”
“Drunk girl?”
“Drunk girl, in the flesh."
“Well, hell, we got ouahselves a little pahty up in heah.”
Tay cuts in. “Rach, you said your name was Rach, right?”
“All day, honey.”
“That cell across from you, is anyone in there?”
“Yep. Sleeping like a baby.”
“Oh thank the gods.” Tay starts pounding on the wall that separates her cell from the one next to her. “Lex! Lex! Are you in there?”
“Yeesh, let the guy sleep,” Rach says. “Clearly had a lot to drink last night.”
“No, I can assure you that he did not. He was with me last night. I need to know what happened.” Her voice drifts off a bit. “What happened to that-- that girl.”
Cannon smiles. “Oh, shit, was he goin’ home with a girl?”
“We weren’t at the bar.”
“Uh, yeah he was. I literally saw him at the bar. He wanted an autograph or somethin’ after he saw me kick the livin’ daylights outta that Daisy kid.”
Rach smiles. “Honestly, yeah, that was pretty cool. Insane, stupid, suicidal, but cool.” She shoves one arm through the bars to give Cannon a thumbs up.
Tay says, “Well after that he was with me, and he and I need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Lex! Lex!”
“Stupid?” Cannon asks. “Why was it stupid?”
Rach brings her hand back into her cell. “You really have no idea who that was?”
“Lex! Lex, wake up!”
“I know that she’s some dumb piece of shit who didn’t wanna pay me foah all my hahd work. I don’t do this shit for charity, you know. The pizza game ain’t all cheese and good vibes. It’s blood, sweat, and teahs, kid.”
“So, no, you have no idea who that was.”
“Okay, no, I have no idea who that was.”
“Lex, it’s me. It’s Tay, your bodyguard.”
“Huh? My head-- where am I?” groans a weak voice from the cell next to Tay.
“Lex! Lex, it’s Tay. We need to get out of here.”
“What is-- am I in jail? Oh god, oh no, oh no no, this can’t be happening.” Tay hears the chain holding Lex’s door shut jingling as he shakes the bars back and forth.
“Does the name Daisy Montego really not mean anything to you? Emphasis on the Montego?”
“Daisies ah those little flowahs. Easy.”
“I literally said ‘emphasis on the Montego.’ Montego? Hello? As in, the massive crime family, Montego? They run the entire island of Manhattan, Montego?”
“Oh my god, oh my god, they’re gonna kill me and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life in jail and my dad is gonna be so mad at me.”
“Lex, I need you to calm down. We need to get you out of here.”
“Who even are you? You said you were my friend, but then that, that girl-- You got me thrown in prison!”
“No fuckin’ way, you’ah tellin’ me that I just pissed off one of the seven families of York? Bad ass.”
“Not bad ass. Insane.”
“Insanely cool.”
“Okay, it’s a little cool.”
“Would you two shut up? Tay shouts.
“Why don’t you shut up?” Cannon shoves his face into the bars of his cell.
“Yeah, you shut up,” Rach adds.
“All of you shut up!” The voice booms from the main door to the room. Immediately, the prisoners all stop talking and look up the walkway to see the large man walking into the room. He’s wearing a long gray coat that drapes down nearly to the floor. Various military looking patches and symbols line the left breast of the coat, including one patch with two skulls looking at each other. There’s no shirt under the coat, revealing a stupidly chiseled body and a long snake tattoo that slithers and winds up the left side of his torso. He walks with an even, authoritative gait down the walkway that divides the room in half. As he walks, he swings a long lanyard back and forth, attached to which is a hugely oversized keyring.
Tay’s eyes zip to the keyring. She looks for a key that might fit her cell door, but she finds the task impossible given that there are no fewer than 50 keys on the ring. In addition to that, interspersed seemingly at random between the different keys are various knives, daggers, and solid blocks of steel. This thing is a functional keyring, but it’s also very clearly a weapon -- a swing of that keyring/flail would leave a lot of broken skin and bones in its wake, especially if the wielder was someone as muscular and well practiced as the man wielding it.
“Good morning,” the man says.
“Not such a good moahning, kid, and I’ll tell you why--”
The man spins around and whips the keyring weapon at Cannon’s cell door. Cannon jumps backward like a startled cat. The echoes of clanging metal ripple across the cell block. The large man stares at Cannon until the sound finally subsides. “Here’s how this works. I talk, you listen. My name is Warden Morgan. Until I can figure out what exactly is going on with you three, you’re all staying right here where me and my crew can keep a good eye on you.” He walks further down the hallway and sighs. “Morning, Rachel.”
Rach cocks her head and grins. “Morning, Morgan.”
Warden Morgan paces back towards the front of the room, clearly more concerned with Tay and Cannon. “We had quite the interesting night last night. First, I get reports of someone slitting one of my guard’s throats at the front gate. Further inspection revealed what appears to be a Marauder cloak abandoned just outside the fence. Not 20 minutes later, I get reports of some loud mouthed pizza boy boiling the skin off of Daisy Montego’s face in a bar fight. The icing on the cake is that we end up finding our Marauder girl shacked up with some kid who’s claiming to be our New English prince.”
“Quite the night,” Rach nods.
“Quite the night, indeed.” He marches to Lex’s cell. “Now, until I’m able to verify that you are, in fact, not, the prince of New England,” he marches back to Cannon, “And until I’m able to get some kid of correspondence with the rest of the Montego family,” he turns to Tay, “And until I finish a thorough search to confirm that we don’t have any more Marauders in town, the three of you are staying exactly where you are.”
Rach asks, “What about me?”
“You’re here until I don’t smell liquor on your breath.” He takes in a deep breath through his nose. “And that would be, not yet. Does anyone have any questions?”
Cannon reaches an arm out between the bars. “Uh, yeah, I got a couple questions. So, apparently I beat the shit out of some crime lord’s daughtah, what the fuck am I doin’ in heah? Kinda seems like I should be gettin’ some kinda medal or somethin’, you know? I’m out heah cleanin’ up you’ah streets, and you throw me in jail? Explain that one to me, kid.”
Morgan turns back towards Cannon. His face darkens. He approaches the cell, looming over Cannon. He swings his lanyard back and forth a few times, ready to strike, but thinks better of it. He grumbles something and continues walking towards the main door.
“Hello? Earth to wahden? You got an answah for me or what?”
Morgan stops at the door, which is still open. “Diaz. No food for the pizza boy.”
“The hell is your problem, kid?”
“There’s food?” Lex asks.
Rach shakes her head. “Not good food. Trust me.”
Morgan turns one final time to address the room. “I’ll talk to you all later today.”
Cannon puts his face back up against the bars while Morgan walks out. “Eat shit you lousy excuse for a wahden! I’m literally on your side heah, I’m takin’ out your perps, and this is the thanks I get? Some nerve. Kick rocks, kid. Kick rocks.”
The rhythmic jingle jangle of Warden Morgan’s keyring fades away as he walks down the adjoining hall, though it’s soon replaced by a lighter jingle jangle.
“Sorry, pal. No food for you.” A guard enters with four trays of food in his hands. The food, I should point out, is something that a blind person with an opposite day sense of smell might call food. It’s a pile of some kind of brown... Brown. Just, brown. Brownish gray. For Lex, this is bittersweet. He’s not used to eating anything of lower quality than food concocted by the greatest royal chefs of New England, but he’s also not used to not eating for 24 hours, so anything is better than nothing. For Rach, it’s same shit, different day. Not the first time she’s had prison grub, won’t be the last. For Cannon, it’s a bummer because the guard doesn’t even give him a tray. For Tay, though, it’s an absolute nightmare.
She’s barely even had a chance to look at the food. She hasn’t even taken any time to inspect the jingling keyring on the guard’s belt, though she’s certainly noticed it. The only thing that she’s paying attention to right now is the guard himself. If she didn’t recognize him by his voice, she definitely recognizes the three long scratches running across his face. This guard, who apparently goes by the name of Diaz, was the one who talked to her outside of the chapel last night. The one who she throat punch and clawed with her cards.
When he gets to her cell, he leans down towards her and smirks. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Tay glares at him.
“Nice to see you, too,” he says. His face still alight with a smirk, he casually flips Tay’s food tray upside down. The sticky slop falls to the floor just out of reach of her cell. “Oops.” He hacks up a glob of phlegm and spits it at Tay.
She flinches to the left, dodging the glob. “You’re gonna have to get closer if you want to hit me.”
Diaz grunts. “You better hope they throw you to the bugs before I come back this evening. Cause if they don’t, they’re gonna throw you to me.” He runs his fingers along the still fresh scars on his face, wincing as he does. “And let me make it clear: I’m much, much worse.”