Smoke and Shadow: The Fireweaver, Book 1

Chapter 2. NARROW

They brought the new prisoner in right before the storm hit. Finton Willis Penitentiary was a lackluster, soul-crushing beige, rising out of the desolate patches between cities. It was strategically built deep in a dried-up river valley, and so buffered from the worst of the storms. Still, the winds slashed against it like a madman's reins, the building gritting its brick and mortar teeth.

Even underground, you could hear the churning. In the outerlands, the storms were relentless, unmerciful. Finton Willis was the only structure for miles around.

The guards shoved the prisoner into a cell a few feet across from her, the bare-bulb lights in the corridor buzzing. His arms were sinewy, still wet from sweat, or from the hose-down they'd likely given him, wrists cuffed at his back. The shackles jangled on his ankles, but he managed to remain balanced and walk with an easy gait.

The guards pinned one last look on him, then left them both in darkness. The minutes passed. The hours. Time in the dark is a slippery thing. The prisoner's shackles clinked lightly a couple times. His ragged breathing turned steady. Two forsaken souls breathing in the dark. 

"Dimarrah Folette?" It was so low she barely heard it. Thought maybe she'd imagined it. Odd to hear her name after so long. The guards never called her by name, only the vile ones they gave her. 

There was something strange about the voice. It came to her solidly, like it was wrapped in velvet, with no echo of the prison walls around it.

"I am." She felt like she spoke for someone else. Her voice was a scrape of sound.

She was about to say something else, when the voice came back to her like a whiplash.

Don't speak out loud.

Strange, so strange, the voice, his voice; somehow it felt like it was inside her mind. A thrill and a horror at the same time.

The walls listen as much as they watch, came his voice again.

Who are you? She was stunned at how effortless it was to exchange in this way. How much quicker.

He didn't answer, but she felt the tug of his mind on hers, like a train hitch to her runaway car. In an instant, the prisoner across from her knew her terror. Knew her pain. She severed the contact, like a light blotted out suddenly. But he pushed back, his words coming like echoes from the bottom of an empty well. Coaxing. She gave way.

Do as I say and we get out of here.

Out? She wanted to laugh. Even if you get out of your cell the other doors above have DNA scanners—

Footsteps. Two pairs. Bald and Nerves were coming for an after-hours visit. The dread solidified like a lump of coal in her stomach.

"Ain't we lucky," Bald drawled, coming into view, the lights flickering on. "Got the Devil and Medusa under one roof." He flicked his eyes to Dimarrah, then back to the prisoner. 

Bald had the keys out, and there was the metal clank of the other prisoner's cell door opening. Nerves stood back, Adam's apple showing just above his Rejkav black-collared uniform. Usually Bald was tamer when the other guard was with him. Usually.

He walked around the new prisoner, who stood a full head taller. He'd done the same thing to Dimarrah the first night she'd spent down there. 

She looked away for a moment, feeling the shame of relief. They had a new prisoner to taunt tonight. Maybe they'd leave her alone. It didn't matter anyway. The doctors had stopped seeing to her hand. Some days all she had to eat was bread. She drank when the sprayers washed her; horrible, unfiltered water. She'd stopped eating. Her panic attacks came with unpredictable ferocity. There were whispers that an executioner from the city was coming.