“Fuck,” I whispered as I scanned what I could see of the room—the cell block.
“That's exactly what I was thinking,” a masculine voice drawled from my left.
I looked over at my neighbor. Broad-shouldered and tall, he was swarthy and completely human in appearance. He swung shaggy, dark hair out of his face and leaned against the bars that separated us.
“That's a pretty outfit, sweetheart. Why don't you take it off and come over here? I'll make it worth your while.” He opened his mouth and a long, snake tongue slithered out.
“Leave her alone, Pavel,” another voice came from my right.
I glanced over and then did a double-take. If I was right about his race, this guy was even rarer than the Fury. He looked up and met my stare, his eyes gleaming in the low lights. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, furred forearms braced on his knees. Tufted ears topped his feline head and silken fur spread out from his cheeks. Despite the softness, he looked dangerous, ready to shred someone with the deadly claws that tipped his humanoid hands. A sleek tail flicked once over the bed behind him.
“Are you Dralmar?” I asked in Dralmarin.
His ears perked up as he stood. “You speak Dralmarin?”
“You are,” I whispered as I ventured closer to his cell. “And a rare color too.” I looked over his black stripes, just a shade lighter than the rest of his fur. “Midnight streak is the term if I'm not mistaken.”
“How the fuck do you know so much about my race, woman?” the Dralmar demanded as he stepped up to the bars.
“I read a lot.” I glanced down. His fur may have been sleek, but it covered all the important bits. “Did they take your clothes? Is that why you're in this form?”
The Dralmar were a race of shapeshifters who transformed into feline forms—predator cats, though their beasts were unlike any of the Felidae races on Earth. For example, the man who stood before me had aspects of panther and lynx in his face. But he was neither; he was Dralmar.
“My clothes were shredded when I shifted. They gave me some pants, but it's fucking cold in here,” he said. “What's up with your clothes? You come from a party?”
“An auction, actually.”
“What the fuck are you two talking about?” the supe on my left shouted.
“Fuck off, Pavel!” the Dralmar roared at him in English.
Pavel grimaced and went to sprawl on his bed, but he continued to watch us avidly.
“An auction for what?” the Dralmar returned to his language.
“Supernatural abilities. I was investigating a group selling them. I was discovered and caught when my illusion magic failed.”
“Illusion magic?” He whistled. “Nice. They probably drugged you.”
“They did. Do you know what with?”
“That's whatIwas investigating,” he growled. “One of my people was attacked by a crazy supe. Halfway through the fight, the guy started screaming and then sort of dissolved like that fucking witch in Oz.”
“My investigation started with a human who bought supe magic,” I offered the information since he'd been so forthcoming. “He lost control of the magic and it began to burn him...” I paused as I realized that my captors might be listening in.
“That what?” the Dralmar asked.
“I don't want to say too much,” I whispered. “They could be listening.”
The Dralmar grunted. “And you think they understand Dralmarin?”
I chuckled. “Good point.”
“So the guy?”
“I healed him. He survived. Until tonight that is. He was shot after I was revealed as a supe.”
“Fucking bad luck.” Then his expression shifted. “You healed him?”
