me, I asked, “I thought Yelena discouraged these Ixian safe
havens?”
“She does. But they are vital to me. And until she has a
better reason than promoting goodwill between Sitia and Ixia,
I’m keeping them.” He glanced at the sky. “Come on in. We
have much to do and we’re on a schedule.”
He led me to a room filled with clothing, wigs, props and
makeup. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought I was
backstage at the Citadel’s theater.
“Sit.” Valek pointed to a stool in front of a mirror. He
poured water into a bowl and mixed a yellow paste. Turning
me so I faced my ref lection, he gathered my long brown hair
in his hands.
“Sorry, Opal. But—”
“A person’s hair is one of the most recognizable features.”
I repeated his lesson. “Go ahead. Get it over with.” I closed
my eyes as his scissors sliced through the locks.
As Valek cut and dyed my hair, I avoided looking in the
mirror. With my hair wet and wrapped in a towel, he handed
me the bowl of dye, a brush, comb and a robe.
He gestured to the washroom, but didn’t meet my gaze.
“You’ll be searched. And…um…your hair color needs to
match. You know?” He squirmed in embarrassment.
I laughed when I understood. What else could I do? Cry?
Inside the washroom, I followed his instructions and dyed
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my pubic hair blond. It would be interesting to explain that to Kade. Although… I hadn’t received a letter from him,
so it might not be a problem. Pain f lared in my chest, but I
squelched it. This wasn’t a good time. I needed to focus.
When I finished, I joined Valek. “Blond? I always wanted
to be a redhead.”
He smiled. “Red would draw attention. Better to go with
a dirty blond…I mean a…darker blond color…closer to light
brown.” Now he looked panicked.
“You’re
blushing!”
Huffing, he stabbed a finger at the stool. “Sit.” He rum-
maged for another bowl. This one contained a f lesh-colored
goo. He then transformed me from Opal Cowan into Rhea
Jewelrose.
I believed I was both physically and mentally ready for the
mission. But when the wagon pulled to a stop in front of the
small farmhouse late that evening, a rush of cold fear swept
through me, leaving me weak. I wobbled.
“Rhea, are you all right?” Valek asked. He had called me
by my new name since putting the finishing touches on my
disguise.
“Fine.” I inhaled deeply, pulling in the cool night air and
releasing it.
I nodded at the two men who drove the team of horses.
One stepped down and unlocked the wagon. It was more like
a metal box on wheels. At least the two small windows let in
air through the bars. It was empty.
“The makeup will stay fresh for a few days. Don’t get it
wet. Get in and get out as fast as possible,” Valek said.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“And don’t get caught. Yelena will kill me,” he joked.
“I’ll be careful for your sake.”
“Good. See you on the other side.”
My “companions” wore guard uniforms from the Jewelrose
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Clan. I studied their builds and looked for the clues Valek had taught me to see through a disguise, but didn’t recognize them.
A part of me had hoped Valek would use Ari and Janco as my
escorts.
I climbed inside, reviewing the plan in my mind to keep
from screaming. The door clanged shut and the lock clicked
into place.
After a few moments, the convicted murderer named
Rhea Jewelrose was on her way to start her prison sentence
at Wirral.
“Transfer papers?” the bored receptionist asked.
I stood between my escorts. They had manacled my wrists
behind my back before we arrived at Fulgor’s security HQ.
Valek’s people had forged the paperwork and I hoped no one
would discover the fakes.
“Collin,” the receptionist called over his shoulder. “Take
her down to cell five.”
manacles.
“She’s all yours,” he said as they left.
I bit my lip and rubbed my wrists, waiting.
“Come on,” Collin said. He swept his arm out, indicating
I should go first.
I glanced at his weapon belt, spotting a pair of manacles.
He chuckled. “I don’t think we need them. You’re not going
to cause trouble, are you?”
“No,
sir.”
“Good.” He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me
to the prison cells below HQ.
Unfortunately, I’d been here before. I would count the
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number of different cells I’d been in over the last year, but
didn’t want to start… What? Crying? Or laughing hysteri-
cally? Both seemed possible at this moment. I swallowed the
knot of emotion.
I spent the night in cell number five. When my prison es-
corts arrived the next morning, my disguise and training were
put to the ultimate test. I tucked a strand of my dirty blond
hair behind my ear. No hair ties were allowed and with the
chin-length style, my hair tended to fall into my face which
itched from the putty. I now had full cheeks and a pudgy nose
compliments of Valek.
“Another killer?” Nic asked Eve.
They stood on the other side of the bars. Eve consulted a
clipboard. “Yep. Killed her husband in a fit of jealous rage.”
“Really?” He peered at me in confusion. “She doesn’t look
the type.”
“I’m not. It was a horrible accident,” I said, pitching my
voice a little higher than normal. “I’m innocent.”
Nic glanced at Eve.
“He fell on her knife fourteen times. A real klutz,” she
said.
He snorted. “What is it about the cold season? We get twice
the number of murders during those two months.” He shook
his head and unlocked the door. “Stand back.”
I moved away and he entered, grabbing the manacles from
his belt. A powerful and dizzying sense of déjà vu hit me and
I swayed.
“Easy there,” he said, touching my arm to steady me.
I blinked. Just when I thought I understood him, Nic was
being…nice? Unexpected.
He manacled my hands behind me and guided me from
the cell, resting his hand on my back. I guessed it was safer to have a prisoner in front where you could see them.
As we walked through Fulgor’s streets, fear simmered. To
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distract myself from my impending ordeal, I said, “I can tell
you why there are more murders during the cold season.”
“Is this a confession?” Nic asked.
“No.” One thing Valek had stressed—criminals always pro-claimed their innocence.
“The cold’s the reason,” Eve said. “Her husband warmed
himself i
n another woman’s bed.”
“Not quite,” I said.
“Oh?” Eve asked.
“He was in our bed when he had his…mishap.”
“That is cold,” Nic said.
“But that’s not the reason you have more murders,” I
said.
“Do tell,” Nic said. His voice was edged with sarcasm.
I ignored his tone. “Sunlight. Or rather the lack of sunlight.
It turns everything gray. It’s depressing and makes you crazy.
You’ll do anything for a bit of color.” I had remembered Kade
commenting on this phenomenon.
“I don’t think bright red blood is a nice change of pace, but
then again my partner insists I’m color-blind,” Nic said.
“You
are color-blind. No one but you would ever match
lime-green pants with an orange shirt,” Eve quipped.
We remained silent until we reached the outer gates of
Wirral. Even though I had been there before, the prison’s
presence hit me like a physical blow to my guts. I blanched
and skidded to a stop.
“I hope you’re not one of those people who go crazy with
a lack of sunlight,” Nic said. “Because there’s no sunlight in
there.” He studied me.
No need to act, I let my fear show. “He killed himself,” I
whispered.
Eve raised an eyebrow. “Fourteen times?”
“He had bad aim.”
Nic laughed. “First time I’ve heard that one!” He tugged
me into motion.
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As we drew closer, I asked Nic, “Is everyone in there for
life?”
“No. But some are serving life on the installment plan.”
He noticed my confusion. “They keep getting into trouble
and coming back.”
The officers at the gate scanned the papers Eve handed
them. One of them scrawled a signature and I was officially
delivered to Wirral.
“Good luck, Rhea. I hope you survive,” Nic said as a female
CO led me inside.
I thought I was scared before, but entering the prison cre-
ated a whole new level of panic and fear. It had been easy to
plan this when I was comfortable and free. Valek had been
right, actual experience was another story entirely.
Taken to a bare room, the CO unlocked the manacles
and ordered me to strip. She stayed and watched. Her face
remained impassive as I removed the jumper.
“Undergarments, too,” she ordered.
I added them to the pile. She kicked them aside. “Turn
around, lean on the wall with your hands on the blue prints
and your feet on the yellow prints on the f loor. That position is called Secured. Remember it. The guards will frequently
order you to assume it.”
The blue prints were above my head and the yellow foot-
shaped ones were spread far apart. When I did as instructed,
I felt more vulnerable and helpless than when Devlen had
chained me up. At least then, I had clothes on. And I would
rather endure the pain of a pressure point than be strip-searched ever again. The woman’s rough hands left no part
of my body untouched. Her fingers found holes and creases I
didn’t even know I had, and thoroughly explored the ones I
was well aware of until they ached.
A knock stopped the search. Thank fate.
“Don’t move,” she ordered.
Voices and a bang. Then another set of hands was on me,
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rougher than the first. Alarmed, I looked over my shoulder
and protested. “She already—”
“Shut up and listen.” Her fingers dug into my skin. “We’re
in charge. You have no rights. You gave all that up when you
murdered your husband. So if we want to recheck a search,
you’ll stand there until we’re satisfied. Even if it takes us twenty times.”
I bit my lip as I was searched again. When she finished, she
tossed a gray prison jumper at me. “Get dressed.”
All my own clothes were gone. My lock picks and few other
tools hidden inside the fabric gone with them. She hadn’t given me undergarments and I was smart enough not to ask.
When I finished, she studied me. Her light brown hair had
been twisted back into a knot. She had dark brown eyes and
a lean build.
“I’m Lieutenant Cicek. You’ve been assigned to my block.
This means I decide everything for you. When you eat, when
you sleep, when you work and when you get fresh air. Keep
me happy and you’ll do well. Cause trouble and you’ll end up
in the SMU with Lieutenant Finn. I’m an indulgent mother
compared to him.”
The LT led me through a maze of doors and lantern-lit
corridors until we reached a set of metal doors. She unlocked
them with a f lourish and revealed a long block of cells. “Wel-
come to the Black Widows’ Wing. Your home for the rest of
your life.” Nodding to the correctional officer who sat at a
utilitarian metal desk, Cicek pulled me along.
The dank smell of body odor and fear hung in the air and
clung to me as I followed the LT down the row. The other
prisoners watched me through their bars but didn’t make a
sound.
“We like it quiet in here,” the LT explained. “Outside this
wing you can scream all you want, but if you want the privi-
lege of fresh air, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
She stopped and opened the fourth cell on the right.
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Pushing me inside, she slammed the door. After the metal-
lic echoes died, the silence rushed in.
I needed to endure the rest of the day to orient myself and
plan. Valek and I had chosen my crime with care. Murderers
were housed in two adjacent wings—one for men, the other
for women—and one f loor above the SMU. However, with
all the turns and stairs to arrive at my cell, I needed to be
certain they hadn’t changed the location. And I needed to
make sure the COs’ shifts remained the same. Hopefully, the
LT would leave tonight. Cicek appeared way too competent
for my comfort.
Lunch was the first time I was allowed to leave my cell. LT
Cicek and two other COs escorted all of us—a dozen Black
Widows—to the dining hall. The place reeked with an un-
identifiable stench that overpowered my senses and made me
gag. I forced myself to eat to keep up my strength.
After the meal, we were marched down four f lights of stairs
to the exercise yard. I scanned the square space. It was nestled in the center of the prison. Almost sheer walls surrounded it.
High above, a patch of blue sky let dim sunlight ref lect down, casting shadows on what appeared to be a training course with
obstacles, weights, a running track and an open area.
As my fellow Black Widows hurried to meet up with
friends, Cicek pointed out the armed COs standing up on
the third f loor balconies. “They have crossbows and tend to
shoot first and don’t bother to ask questions.”
I noticed COs stationed in the yard didn’t have any weap-
ons. And now that I thought about it, the LT was unarmed,
as well. I asked her why.
Her face hardened. “Even though it’s unlikely, there’s a
slim chance one of the inmates could take our weapons. We’re
trained to handle ourselves without weapons. Remember
that.”
Her gaze drilled into me until I nodded. She waved over
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one of the COs in the yard. His dark skin resembled the Sand-
seed Clan members, and his bald head reminded me of Moon
Man, Yelena’s Story Weaver. Moon Man had died during the
Warper Battle. A sudden wish for Devlen’s comforting pres-
ence washed over me.
“This is the Black Sergeant. He’s in charge of the yard,”
the LT said.
He
nodded.
“Behave and follow the rules,” Cicek told me.
“What are the rules?” I asked.
“Depends on my mood,” the Black Sergeant said.
I would have laughed except he didn’t look like he was
joking. Cicek left and the Black Sergeant returned to his post, leaving me. I glanced at the inmates. All females and only
a few used the training equipment. The others preferred to
gather into groups.
Leaning against the far wall, I watched the activity. The
first sign of trouble was the glances. A large cluster of women kept looking at me. When they spread out and approached, I
prepared an escape plan. The Black Sergeant kept an eye on
us, but he didn’t appear too concerned.
“Hey, new girl,” the one woman called. Slightly broader
than the others, she was also a step ahead of them. “Did you
enjoy killing your husband?”
I smiled despite my rapid pulse. “I think you’re mistaking
me for someone else. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You can quit the innocence act. We know better,” she said
in an unfriendly tone. She came closer.
Valek’s patient instructions replayed in my head, calming my
heartbeat. I examined my opponent. A classic bully intent on
making a point. Talking my way out of this wouldn’t work.
“You know nothing.” I pushed off the wall and strode
toward her, stopping mere inches away. I confronted her. “Go
away before you get hurt.”
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Her gang members laughed, but she didn’t. Perhaps it was
because she read the intent on my face.
“Big
talk.”
As she reached into her pocket, I moved. Poking her torso
with two fingers, I stepped to the side as she hunched over in
pain. She pulled a weapon. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed.