I was annoyed with myself. My motto wasnever assume,and I’d done just that. For all I knew, my heavily armed escorts had been seconds away from shooting Bastion out of the sky.
We pulled into a gatehouse and turned our engines off.
Bastion hit the ground with such force that the pavement shook. A beat later he shifted into human form and walked over to join Ivan, who was out of the car and doing the hard work of presenting various wads of paper to the guards and gesturing to each car.
Invisibility mode,I murmured to my bird, and Loki shimmered out of sight, taking his place on my shoulder and pressing himself against my neck in silent support.
The guards inspected each vehicle thoroughly but said nothing about the ogres’ armed state. I guessed that was someone else’s job.
Bastion must have got the all-clear too because he strolled over to our car and climbed into the passenger side.
‘Your Excellence,’ he greeted my mate.
‘Bastion. Nice of you to come along.’
Bastion flashed white teeth in tanned skin. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Once the gatekeeper was satisfied we were who we said we were, he pressed a button and the metal gates clanged open, granting us entrance into hell. My gut felt like a herd of unicorns was running through it with their sharp piercing claws.
I squinted into the darkness at the prison. It was a huge compound, and even from outside I got the sense that once you stepped inside you could be swallowed up and never find your way out again. It wasn’t a comforting thought.
The engines caught and we rolled forward into the prison’s maw.
Chapter Seventeen
Robbie had greased palms and called in favours, but that only got us so far. Signing in at reception took over twenty minutes whilst our IDs were double-checked and verified.
‘Remove your weapons. Please,’ one of the prison guards ordered. Thepleasewas tacked on belatedly after he’d eyed Robbie’s horns, like he’d remembered we weren’t prisoners and manners were required.
Personally, I thought manners were always required no matter who you spoke to, but even I had to admit such etiquette slipped in life-and-death moments.
Hanlon, Maktel and Robbie removed their weapons in short order.
‘Ivan,’ Robbie said. ‘Your turn. All of them.’
Ivan grimaced but didn’t argue. He stepped forward and divested himself of his weapons with the quiet competence of a man who did this as part of his daily routine. He reached inside his jacket, drew out a handgun, and set it on the counter with careful precision.
The guard blinked at the gun, then slid it into a plastic tray.
Ivan produced a second gun.
Then a third.
Then he removed a long knife from the small of his back, followed by another blade strapped to his forearm.
He set them all down carefully, like he was laying out silver service cutlery for a fine-dining experience.
The guard looked taken aback. ‘Christ mate, that’s enough for a small army.’
Ivan lifted his eyebrows, as if offended by the implication that he might be finished.
He leaned to the left and unbuckled a holster I hadn’t noticed, withdrawing another pistol and placing it down.
Robbie exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. His patience was on a timer. He wanted to get me through this as fast as possible, then get me safely back home, where I could fall apart in peace.
Where Robbie was impatient, Hanlon was living his best life. He made a low choking sound beside me, half-heartedly attempting to muffle his laughter with a faux-cough.
‘Ivan,’ I said out of pure curiosity, ‘how many weapons do you have?’
