After we round the first corner, Leuce stops at a door and pushes it open.
“This is the janitorial closet,” she says. “They’ll keep it unlocked while we’re working.”
I step inside and glance around. It’s bigger than I expect, with a maze of shelves and a dozen or more empty crates in the corner.
I gesture at them. “We unload too, then?”
“No, leave everything in its assigned room,” Leuce says as she shakes her head. “Those are from the last shipment, and once the truck is unloaded, we’ll bring them back with us.”
“Got it,” I mumble as my mind spins, but Leuce is impatient. She waves for me to follow her into the hallway, then turns down a corridor that opens into the cells.
There are more than I expected, with three stories of barred doors. Voices grow louder as we walk through, and Leuce chuckles at me taking it all in.
“There aren’t as many inmates as there used to be,” she says as she gestures at the cells. “When we first claimed the city, they say this place was filled to the brim. Nowadays, there isn’t much of a need for it, so prisoners are typically on the bottom floor. Sometimes you’ll see a few on the second, but it’s easier to monitor everyone when they’re clustered.”
“Like cattle,” I murmur.
She mistakes my tone for amusement and chuffs a laugh as we walk. Upkeep has taken a backseat, and there are cracks in the concrete floors and rust lining the barred doors. It’s clean enough to meet whatever minimal rules have been put into place, but only just.
Faces press against bars as we walk past, while others slump on their cots and ignore us altogether. They shout insults and slam their palms against the doors, and more than one death threat finds its way to us. I swivel my head to search the cells, finally landing on a shock of red hair.
Gideon’s eyes move to mine and widen, but I give him the slightest shake of my head. He returns it with a single dip of his chin, but there’s no time for anything more.
A door at the end of the row opens to an industrial laundry room. Leuce points out where to drop supplies, and we grab a couple of rolling carts to bring back with us as we retrace our steps.
Gideon meets my gaze as we pass, and I clock distances and guard presence as we return to the truck.
Leuce turns to me with her hands on her hips. “Good?”
“Good,” I agree. “The kitchen seems complicated, so do you mind…?” I trail off with a sheepish smile.
Leuce rolls her eyes but nods. “If you need any help, you know where to find me.”
She loads food items, and I grab a crate that’s headed for the supply room. Nobody pays me any attention as I’m buzzed through the doors again, and once I’m inside the closet, I spend some time investigating.
The shelves are extensive, lined up in rows packed so densely you can’t even see through them. I survey the walls, floors, and ceilings to search for potential escapes, but everything is solid.
Not wanting to waste too much time and draw suspicion, I unload and hurry back to the truck. After a few more trips, a plan unfolds in my mind.
A Lu’Mite guard paces inside the laundry room, only half paying attention, and I cast a few sideways glances at the keycard hanging off his belt.
“Hey,” I say cheerfully as I approach. “Is there a restroom I can use?”
“Uh, sure, yeah… over here.” His golden yellow eyes move to me as he gestures for me to follow, then leads me to the main hallways. We turn the opposite way, toward another door where he swipes his card to enter.
“Is your entire security system electronic?” I ask, channeling bored politeness.
He glances at his keycard before he nods. “Yeah. Back in the day, the prisoners learned to pick the locks, so we had to make some upgrades.”
He leads me into what looks like a break room, with a few round tables and a refrigerator. The next door opens to reveal a clean, tiled bathroom.
“Thanks,” I say as his eyes meet mine. I draw on my power, then slip inside his head. “I’ll take your keycard now.”
With a methodical nod, he removes it from his belt and passes it to my waiting hand, his expression smooth.
My fingers wrap around his wrist, and my power swells at the physical contact. “You won’t realize it’s missing until your shift is done, and you won’t remember where you’ve lost it.”
His mind is like clay—soft and easily molded into the shape I need.
