“This is your locker. Take off the clothes you’re wearing and put on the uniform that’s hanging inside. You’ll also find a bag of supplies.”
“What supplies?” I ask.
“Sheets, two towels, a wash cloth, a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and soap.” She gave me the stink-eye. “That’s all you get, so you’d better take care of it.”
“I like the deluxe treatment,” I say. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Barbara, but everybody calls me Babs.”
She opens the locker and stands there, watching me. I get it, it’s prison. No privacy. The guards hang around and watch me. I take off the pantsuit I was wearing at my trial, which is now soiled from mud and sweat, and change into the prison’s uniform: black jeans and black tank top. Even the underwear I’m given is black. There’s no bra, but that’s okay. Damned things are binding.
“Right,” Babs says as I stick my feet into the black slip-on sand shoes the prison supplied. “Let’s take you to your cell.”
She leads me up metal stairs that ring and clang with every step, the noise echoing off the concrete walls. The cell I’m taken to is on the third level. The stairs reach a circular walkway that runs around the central shaft, and the cells are shaped like truncated wedges, the narrow part dominated by the steel bars of the door. Babs takes me to cell 13, which I take as a good omen, and opens the door for me.
There’s nobody in here right, but one of the two beds is already made. The top bunk has sheets, a blue blanket and a thin pillow. Apparently my cell mate is still out in the common area and I have the bottom bunk. I sincerely hope my soon-to-be best friend isn’t built like Babs.
The bottom bunk has a similar blanket and pillow, and a mattress that isn’t quite big enough to cover the springs. It’s not even two inches thick, and it’s covered with cracked vinyl, like the mattress from a crib that someone threw away. For all I know, that’s exactly what it is. Good thing I don’t really like to stretch out anyway.
Babs says, “Make your rack and I’ll take you back down.”
“I don’t have to stay in my cell?”
“Not if you don’t cause trouble.” She shrugs her giant shoulders. “We usually hang out in the common area until curfew, then we get locked in at night.”
“Do you know my cell mate?”
“Of course. Her name’s Con.”
“Connie for Convict?” I ask, because I can’t help myself.
Babs clicks her tongue in annoyance. “Connie for Constance, if you must know. You’d better watch that mouth of yours, Goode. You’re going to get in a lot of trouble that way. But I expect you already know that, since you already spent one night in the hole.”
I make my bed, and the fitted sheet is far too large for the pad that’s serving as my mattress. I tuck the excess in, but it occurs to me how those lumpy and awkward folds could easily conceal things.
“Do we ever get to go outside?”
“Every morning for roll call,” she nods. “Just like this morning.”
“Do we interact with the male witches at all?”
She sniffs. “There are no male witches. Just men who want to claim our power.”
That at least tells me that Babs is a witch, too. “I don’t know. I’ve known some…”
Her voice turns hard. “I said there are no male witches.”
Her dark eyes flash, and I can literally see lighting in the irises. Storm witch. Not good to cross. Choosing the path of least resistance for once in my life, I back down.
“Right. I’ll remember that.”
Babs nods at me. Her mouth is one of the only little things on her, and she has it pursed so it’s even smaller than normal. I hold my tongue and follow her back down to the common area.
The first floor common area, the base of the shaft that runs through the core of the tower, is set up with three sets of picnic tables, one television, and a ping pong table with no net, no paddles and no ball. I guess we need to beg the guards for the equipment or something. I’m pretty certain I’m not in a position to ask for anything, so I just follow Babs to one of the picnic tables.
A gorgeous redhead with a braid down her back is playing chess with one of the male inmates, and a guard hovers nearby. He doesn’t have a rifle, but he has his baton and a pistol. Babs nods to him, and he walks away to hover by another chess game on the other side of the room.
Babs sits beside the redhead, leaving me to sit beside the man. Both players look up at us in annoyance.
“Connie, this is Kathleen Goode. She’ll be your new cellie.”
The redhead looks me over with emerald, cat-like eyes, and I know a shifter when I see one. How the hell did she get locked up in here? Our eyes meet, and she smiles slowly. She’s the cat, and I’m the canary. This could be fun, as long as I end up getting eaten the nice way.
“Hi,” she finally says. Her voice is just a sexy as the rest of her. I think I’m jealous.
“Hi,” I answer.
The man says, “I’m Malcolm.”
He offers me his hand, and I shake it. There’s an immediate tingle, and I can feel the magic in him. He’s powerful.
I can’t take it anymore. “Okay, I have to know. What gives?”
“What do you mean?” Malcolm asks.
I lean into the table and speak softly. “We’re all still in control of our magic. Why are we sitting here and letting them keep us prisoner?”
Connie shakes her head. “You’ll find out.”
“How ‘bout you tell me, cellie?”
“How ‘bout you shut your mouth and listen before you get us all killed?”
