Picking up the list Brady had written, Jackson said, “I promised Cain some gardening books, but I was totally unaware of how many there are. I finally asked Brady…”
Nodding, Mystia took the list from Jackson’s hand. “Brady would know which ones are good.”
“That’s what I thought. Too bad it took me several days to figure it out,” Jackson chuckled.
“Hmmm…you’re worried Cain might think you deserted him,” Mystia murmured, scanning the list.
“Yeah…so I was hoping you…”
“Consider it done,” Mystia replied before disappearing.
Jackson’s ‘thanks’ were made to an empty room. Smiling to himself, he turned back to the next problem waiting for a solution…a decision about Cain. He’d held off calling a pack meeting to talk about restitution from the Silver Point pack because he wanted to announce his decision regarding the human at the same time. But he expected Reeve to push the restitution issue once again at the meeting scheduled for that afternoon. Swiveling his chair around, Jackson looked out his window into the forest surrounding the pack house and thought about the protection it gave to his pack. But that would change if he made the wrong decision.
~/~/~/~/~
Staring up at the ceiling of his cell, Cain wondered if today would be the day he learned his fate. As the days passed, he found it harder and harder to not give up, and it was only Jackson’s whispered words that were keeping him sane at this point.
Sighing, Cain rolled over on his side. The time he’d allotted for ceiling gazing was over and next on his schedule was scanning the walls of his cell. Life in prison was boring and it was even more so in solitary confinement with no one to talk to. Time slowed down and counting the minutes until the next scheduled meal did nothing but emphasize how futile life was for him.
Finally reaching his limit of boredom, Cain closed his eyes, ready to use sleep as his next ploy to help pass the time of day. It was one of many tricks he’d picked up from his previous times of incarceration.
“Cain? Jackson sent me.”
The sound of the soft musical voice flowed over him like a cool mountain stream but Cain didn’t bother to open his eyes. It didn’t belong to Oracle, so he decided it was a figment of his imagination, something that had happened to him before.
“Mon chaton,here are the books Jackson promised…don’t you want them?”
Cain’s eyes shot open and focused on the willowy, graceful woman dressed in a flowing black gown trailing behind her on the ground. Long, white, silky hair caressed a beautiful face lined with a few wrinkles. She was surrounded by light that matched her silver eyes and he knew right away she wasn’t human. “Who are you?”
“Mystia.”
“What are you?”
“A magic user.”
Oh shit! A witch!Quickly looking around his cell, Cain realized escape was impossible, so he did the next best thing. Rolling out of his bunk, he scooted under it, moving until his back met the wall. Trying to keep his fear under control, he kept his eyes on her feet, hoping she’d leave just as fast as she’d come.
Startled by Cain’s reaction, Mystia bent down and peered at him, “Mon chaton,are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Cain said, his voice coming out in a high pitch.
“Why are you under the bed?”
Fuck! Because you want to turn me into a frog?But Cain withheld that answer, lest it give the witch an idea. Unable to come up with an alternative reason, he remained silent.
Seeing the fear in Cain’s eyes, Mystia had her answer. Placing the books on the floor so he could see them, She rose and, with a wave of her hand, vanished from Cain’s cell, only to reappear in Frank’s office. The fear Cainfelt was real and, though there was no reason for it, she knew that for humans, it could lead to death. After sharing her concerns with Frank, who assured her he’d keep an eye on Cain, she thanked him and disappeared.
Cain had remained rigidly frozen under his bunk, his eyes focused on the witch’s feet, but when he blinked, she was gone…just as he remembered in some fairy tales his mother read to him before she left him to fend for himself. In the witch’s place was a stack of books. Squinting at them, Cain’s heart started to beat faster as he read the titles on their spines. His hands itched to touch them, but he fought off the urge. According to the men who indoctrinated him about shifters and other paranormal beings, witches were the trickiest of all.
So he remained under the bed, listening for any sounds that would reveal her location in his cell. For all he knew, she could be hovering over his bed on her broom, waiting until he came out before casting a spell on him and turning into a frog or something worse.
Time passed slowly and his muscles complained about the cramped position they were in, but Cain fought it until he no longer could. Pain shot through his left calf muscle, forcing him to emerge from his confined quarters. Rising quickly, he stomped his heel down on the floor, groaning as the pain slowly lessened.
Then, sitting down on his bunk, he realized he was alone in his cell once more. Reaching down, he picked up the first book, reverently running his hand over the cover before opening it. Within minutes, he was so engrossed in it that he never heard his jailor deliver his meal.
~/~/~/~/~
Parking next to the Silver Point building that housed his office, Reeve turned off the engine and glanced over at his passenger who was nervously tapping his foot and staring out the windshield. The easy-going Heath was gone and in his place was a man on the edge. Placing his hand on Heath’s thigh to stop its bouncing, he murmured, “Hey, trust me…Tristan didn’t mean to laugh.”
