I go back to bouncing and sugar popping.
Bounce.Bounce.Bounce.Pop. Pop. Pop.
The guy gapes at me from the other side of my bars. “What?”
I tilt my head back again, sighing when I have to swallow my candy prematurely. “I said no thanks,” I repeat slowly, rolling my eyes.
You’d think Alpha Bowen and his hard-on for power could hire smarter cronies. I run my gaze over the dim-witted version of Assassin’s Creed...hmm, guess I’m giving him too much credit.
“As much fun as it is to explain this for the fifth time since I got myself locked up, Iwantto be in here. It’s exactly the stay-cation I’ve been looking for,” I tell him.
I watch his face, waiting for the bewilderment to crawl over his features just like it did with every other Prison-Break-Barbie that came before him...and there it is.
I wish these dudes would just take a hint already. I’m in here because I want to be. Well nothereexactly, I’m waiting to get to Nightmare Penitentiary, but who knew the wheels of justice took so fucking long to turn? I mean, how long does it take to throw the book at someone?
I’m hoping after my sentencing today that Ifinallyget transferred, and then Alpha Bowen and his lounge of over-muscled fuckwits won’t be able to get to me anymore.
I still can’t figure out how Bowen found me in the first place. I was so careful not to leave tracks. The not knowing gives me an itch that skitters just under my skin and makes my tail twitch with irritation. It makes me want to run, but I’msoclose. Just a few more hours and I’ll be out of his reach,andout of reach from my own lounge.
There’s a long, awkward pause, like the henchman wasn’t expecting this at all. Don’t they talk to each other? If he’d just chatted with Henchman One through Four, he’d have known all of this already.
“You’re saying...youwantto stay in jail?” he inquires, his face scrunching up like the words are sour in his mouth.
“Ding, ding, ding! What do we have for our winner, Bob?” I reply cheerfully.
The cell goes quiet, all except for the steady bouncing of my ball against the wall. I clear my throat. “Um...you should probably go,” I point out. “Don’t want to get caught and end up where I am, right? Well...unless you want to hide out too. But let me just tell you, it takeswaylonger to get punished than you think it will. I mean, I brokesomany laws! What the hell is taking them so long?” I shake my head. “The paranormal judicial system needs some serious work.”
He blinks. I bounce.
During his silent gaping, the prison alarms start going off really loudly and red emergency lights begin to flash. I point at the flashing lights and gesture for him to run along. “See? You better hurry up.”
I pull my borrowed headphones back over my ears and blare some Backstreet Boys to drown out the noise. I sigh and shake my head when the militia reject starts to fiddle with the lock on my cell door instead of making a break for it like I told him to.
Suddenly, there’s an explosion of magic and sulfur, and my door bursts open. Sitting up, I cough and glare, waving my hand in front of my face to try and dispel the black glittering smoke that’s now filling my cell.
Dammit. I was having such a nice day today, too.
Scarface runs up and grabs me, and that’s when I stop being Miss Nice Cockatrice.
One second, he’s hauling me to my feet, and the next, I grab his wrist, spin faster than he can blink, and I pivot. Using my momentum and strength, I lift him clear off the floor and flip him over, sending him crashing onto his back. His head smacks against my metal bed frame with a sickening crack, and just like that, the dude is out cold.
“Maybe next time, you’ll listen to me,” I tut as I dust off my hands and lie back down on my bed.
Getting comfortable again, I grab one of the magazines that I keep stuffed under my thin mattress. Flipping to the article the guard Paul told me about, I’m just getting to the part about how chandeliers are a necessity in creating an awesome she-shed, when two prison guards come running in. They take one look at my open cell door, the magic smoke still polluting the air, the unconscious male on the ground, and turn gaping looks at me.
I give them a bright smile and point down at Scarface. “Hey, Paul. Could you clean that up for me? I think he wet himself.”
Paul lowers his gun and pulls off his SWAT-style helmet. “Another one?” he asks, jerking his chin toward my uninvited cell guest.
I shrug my shoulders and give him an apologetic smile. He shakes his head and nudges the unconscious jail-breaker with his boot. “Damn. We need to up our security. We aren’t used to so many supernaturals trying to break someone out of here,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he frowns in thought.
“Yeah, it’s very disruptive,” I tell him.
He grunts in agreement. “Good thing your ride is here,” Paul mentions casually as my unwelcome cell guest groans loudly from the floor.
I squeal and start clapping excitedly, which startles both guards. “Yes, finally!” I shoot up from my cot and thrust both arms out, ready for the required shackles whenever a prisoner is being transported.
Paul releases an amused chuckle, and Terrence—the other guard in my cell right now—gives me some judgement-laced side-eye as I giggle and wait like a kid on Christmas morning for the cuffs to click into place.
