"I think it's in here somewhere," Ophelia yelled from the other room. "Just a minute!"
"Do people often send you thank you cards for murdering their enemies?"Grayson asked, sounding amused.
"Not usually, but Ophelia is… unique."
We waited in the doorway for a solid five minutes, exchanging smiles that we were trying to suppress as our amusement grew by the moment. We could hear Ophelia rummaging through something in another room.
She huffed in frustration before she eventually came striding back to the door. "Okay, I have no idea where I put that. I don't want to owe you anything, so come in and choose a piece from any of those shelves." She opened the door wider, gesturing for us to go in, and pointing toward a row of shelves that went along an entire wall of her mostly-empty living room. "I wouldn't touch anything on the other side if I were you."
We stepped inside, but I didn't go for the shelves.
"I don't need any pottery," I said, giving her a quick smile. "You don't owe me anything, either. I actually wanted to ask you something.Wedid. This is my mate, Grayson Darke."
Ophelia's gaze flicked back to Grayson for a moment before she refocused on me. "Your soul bond is pretty hard to miss. You basically glow. I don't do favors or bargains.”
"It's not really a favor. It's kind of a question, about the prison," I explained.
Ophelia relaxed. "Oh. Well, you can ask, but my magic takes on life of its own after it's been created. I don't control the penitentiary."
"Right. Well, some of the demons actually figured out a loophole in the way you established the magic relating to how we put prisoners inside. They used that loophole to lock two innocent demons away about eleven years ago. The vampire king, Dante, and the siren queen, Jasmine. We haven't been able to figure out a way to get them free."
Ophelia stared at me, the redness in her cheeks slowly leeching away as her light skin went a ghastly pale shade. Grayson put a hand on my hip lightly, but I could feel his caution through the bond.
"Someoneweaponizedmy prison?" Her voice was low. Dangerous, too.
"Yes."
Ophelia took a long breath in, and let it down slowly. Her hand went through her hair, and I tried not to notice the streaks of wet clay she quietly pushed deeper into the strands. Something told me that was going to be difficult to get out.
Her gaze lifted to Grayson's. "You know the demons?"
"I do. They're my family."
"What part of the prison did they get put in?"
The upper portion could host visitors, and it was easier to send someone there. After a few decades, they had a chance of getting out, as well.
The lower portion was much different.
"The bottom."
"Fuck.” She sighed. “I’ll get them out. It's going to take time, though."
"You have all the time you need. Thank you." My words were genuine, and my gratitude was too.
She nodded, then held up a finger.
My gaze tracked her across the room. I watched as she picked out two extremely different pieces of pottery from opposite sides of the completely disorganized shelves.
One was a simple, colorful bowl with wild, interesting shapes painted on it. The other was a neutral, two-toned vase with a sweeping, unique shape.
"Here. These will bring you... luck... while you wait.Don'tsell them." Her warning was sharp, despite the unconvincing way she'd saidluck.She placed one in each of our arms, giving me the vase and Grayson the bowl.
"Thank you." Grayson's voice was low.
I could feel his rushing emotions. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but I knew Ophelia well enough to be damn sure that if she said she was going to get someone out, she would. Even if it took a hundred years.
Of course, Ireallyhoped it wouldn't take that long.
