Monsters need to be put down.
Those were their words.
“Miss, if you could just come with me.”
My blood goes cold. The memory from last time floods back. The cell door clanged shut, and I spun around, ready to crumble. I was so frightened, it all felt like I was trapped in a terrifying nightmare where my mother had handed me over to be put down like a dog. I remember freezing on the spot as soon as I realized I wasn’t the only one in the cell. There was a kid who looked a few years older than me, whose body was too big for the youth of his face, staring silently at me from the corner.
My heart pounds and my hands are sweating, just like they did back then.
Because of Rook, I didn’t fall apart. I forced my tears back inside and faced whatever was to come.
I wasn’t alone.
And I’m not alone now either. Not really.
And thanks to an excellent dicking from Dante, I have my telepathy back, right when I need it.
“Two judiciary guards have stopped me in the street near Dante’s place. They’re taking me somewhere now.”I mentally message Dante, Zeph and Fabian, skipping Roscoe since he needs his rest rather than to worry about me right now.
It’s a good job that I’m still buzzing with energy as there’s no way I’d have the reach to talk to all three of them at once normally.
“Miss?” One of the judiciary guys stops about two feet away from me. They’re not touching me or apprehending me, which is something.
But I can’t teleport or run at super-speed, so I don’t see a clean way of getting out of this. I guess I could mind control the two of them, but the thought of doing that after last night makes me feel physically sick.
“We need you to come with us, Miss.”
I nod. “I’m coming. Where are you taking me?”
“We need to ask you some questions.”
That’s certainly vague enough, but it doesn’t sound like they’re taking me directly to a cell or they wouldn’t bother with the veneer of politeness.
I try to take in their individual appearances, now the uniforms are no longer making my heart pound out of my chest and I’ve calmed myself down from a full-blown panic attack. I don’t recognize either of them. They both look to be in their late twenties or early thirties, too young to have been the same men that laughed at me when I was a frightened child. They look like the kind of guys your attention would skim over if you saw them on the street. One is slightly taller with dirty blonde hair and the other is shorter, stockier and has his hair so short it’s practically shaved to his scalp.
They’re not glaring at me, though. Instead, they just flank me on either side and lead me through the slush-covered streets. To my surprise, they don’t lead me to a car with tinted windows whisking me off to never be seen again. They don’t even direct me toward the judiciary tower, or to Arcanum Heights. Instead, we walk for about ten minutes, with all three of us remaining quiet. Neither of them touches me apart from once where the stockier guy grips my elbow to steer me left when I’m veering right. That causes the taller guy to hiss and the stocky one drops me like my arm is on fire.
Not sure what that’s all about. Maybe they’re afraid that I’m contagious, or that contact might cause me to use my woo-woo necromancy powers on them. I snort to myself.
We eventually stop outside a nondescript office building which is on the edge of the Luminary District. They lead me through an empty entrance and along a narrow corridor that’s lit with fluorescent lighting. It looks like every nightmare I’ve had about being stuck in a mundane office for the rest of my life.
The building is quiet and seems deserted. There are no ambient noises of phones ringing or people chatting or doors closing. Just silence and our thumping footsteps on the grotty carpet that looks like it needed updating a couple of decades ago.
They lead me to a room where a young woman is sitting behind a laptop screen around a large conference table. She barely glances up as we enter and gestures to one of the many chairs dotted around the table.
“Take a seat.”
“We’ll wait outside,” the taller judiciary guy says, earning him a brief nod of acknowledgement.
When I continue to stand there, feeling like an awkward potato whose arms are too big for my body, the woman glances up again and makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. I’m pretty sure she’s fighting an eye roll.
“Take a seat. We’ll begin shortly.”
I shuffle to the nearest chair and plop down into it. “Can you tell me what all of this is about?”
“Councillor Clements is just in another meeting. She’ll be joining us shortly,” she says before turning back to her screen, as though her momentary break in focusing on her laptop is too much.
Ice fills my veins. My stomach clenches and I clench stiff fingers into fists.
