The familiar sensation of sinking through the earth overtakes me, and in the next breath, we’re in a long brick hallway, continuing walking without breaking stride. Though we’ve landed on solid ground, I feel like I’m still sinking, getting further from freedom with each step.
We must be at C.S.A.M.M.—the ivy-covered brick walls are familiar, and this is still within the downtown boundaries. But this isn’t the part of the subterranean complex I know. The air feels different here—cold, musty, like no one ever comes down this way.
We turn at a wooden door, which Fiona swings open to reveal a staircase descending into darkness.
Wait, another floor even deeper underground?
I stop, my feet turning to lead. “Where’s Nat—”
Fiona tugs me forward by the elbow. “Keep moving.”
We go down, Neil still marching behind us. The air grows colder with each step, the damp stone walls pressing in. “How long will I be down here?” I hate how my voice shakes.
“Until we set a date for your trial.”
“So like…a couple days? Can I at least have my laptop? A toothbrush? Basic human rights?”
“As long as it takes.”
She’s being vague to scare me, which ignites a spark of anger in my chest that burns away the fear. “I helped you! When the Madsens were coming, I warned you! Without me, they’d be out there using bio magic for God-knows-what right now. Shapeshifting, mind control, murdering, amassing an army—”
“You can present your case to the jury.” Her voice is a little less sharp than a moment ago. “I know you helped us. But your actions surrounding bio magic were reckless and risked everything the coven stands for. Every action has a consequence, Katie, and yours happened to be incredibly dangerous.”
We reach the bottom of the stairs, and I blink in the dim light. A row of cells lines one wall, iron bars gleaming dully.
“A dungeon? Really?” I wrench my arm away from her. “How disappointingly cliché of you.”
Fiona unlocks a cell and gestures for me to enter. “We haven’t had the budget for renovations.”
“Who else is down here?” My voice echoes strangely off the stone walls.
“You’re the only guest at the moment,” Fiona says.
I back up a step, bumping into Neil. The shred of bravery I summoned in the airport parking lot is leaving me. “You’re keeping me insolitary confinement? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Would you feel better if we moved a witch serial killer into an adjacent cell to keep you company?”
I don’t grace that with an answer.
My heart hammers. There’s a cot, a toilet, and a thin blanket and pillow. Home sweet home.
“Trials usually happen within a few days,” Neil says, casting Fiona a guilty glance, like he’s afraid of being shouted at for offering me a scrap of information.
“Thank you for the actual answer,” I say curtly. Forcing my feet to move, I step inside and turn around with my arms crossed. “Can Natalie visit me? Or am I limited to one carrier pigeon a day?”
Fiona regards me coolly. “That depends on whether she behaves.”
The cell door clangs shut, the sound rippling down my spine like ice.
She and Neil head back up the stairs, leaving me alone in the underground chamber. As the ring of the slamming door fades, the silence presses against my ears.
I sink onto the cot, wincing as my torn clothes rub my cuts and bruises. Leaning back against the cold stone wall, I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
I can get through this. The juryhasto see reason at the trial.
Right?
