One year? How the fuck am I only getting one year? Did he not hear the list of shit I did? I literally set off a glitter bomb in a human police officer’s face before tackling his mouth with my tongue. And that was after I stole a damn ice cream truck and threw all the merchandise out of the window at unsuspecting children while blaring “Chain Hang Low” by Jibbs over the speakers.
I need more time than that, dammit! I fucking earned it fair and square!
Fear flashes through me, and I feel my lungs caving in, like they want me to hyperventilate. I can’t be imprisoned for only a year; I need at least a solid five. I need long enough to get away, to be forgotten, and to become useless to the fucked up plans everyone has for me.
One year only manages to put a tiny little kink in other people’s bullshit, and the probation afterward will make it hard as fuck to run. They tag shifters on parole, and the chip is a major pain in the ass to get removed. I’m not even sure if I have the contacts to get something like that done before my matriarch and Alpha Bowen would swoop in and forever ruin my life.
Reality kicks me in the gut like a minotaur’s hoof, and I panic.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I demand, as I hoist myself up on top of the table and spread my arms wide.
I almost lose my balance because my poor, beautiful tail is prohibited from moving, but I tighten every muscle I have and straighten up. All the guards in the room grow tense.
“One year? That’s the best you can do? How the fuck did you get this job? I’m a motherfucking menace!” I bellow as I jump down from the table and hobble-run for the judge.
Judge O’Vine just leans back in his overstuffed high back chair and looks at me like I’m proving his point about needing mental help as I run at him. Stupid male doesn’t realize I don’t need that kind of help. What I need is to be locked away where no one can get to me. This asshole is ruining everything! I shift my hair to be blood-red and glare at him as I close the distance between us.
“Toro toro, you little bitch!” I scream at him, taunting him with the call that a bullfighter uses.
Judge O’Vine’s eyes fill with indignant fire, and satisfaction floods me.
Yes, get mad, get even, extend my sentence...please!
I lift my hands to mock his curved horns, but I’m side-tackled by a guard before I can take another step. The impact knocks the wind out of me, which also makes it impossible to scream more offensive shit at the judge. I had a good Your mother was bred in a barn, and your father was ridden by cowboys ready at the tip of my tongue, but I’m forced to choke it down and gasp for air instead as I’m carried out of the room.
No! This can’t be how it goes down!
I scramble to get out of the guard’s hold, but it’s solid, and the magical cuffs around my wrists, ankles, and tail make it impossible to shift into my cockatrice. The door closes behind me, and my chance at pissing off Judge O’Vine so he’ll throw the book at me slips out of my fingers. I pull in deep breaths and fume at my luck.
Okay. Time to change tactics.
I immediately begin to look for ways to solve the problem. So they won’t lock me up and throw away the key...yet. I’ll just have to figure out a way in prison to change their minds. That shouldn’t be too hard.
I hope.
2
It takes about an hour for me to get booked into Nightmare Penitentiary’s system. Someone keeps hacking into the jail’s systems and deleting my file, so they have to put everything in manually so that I can be transferred. Alpha Bowen and his annoying attempts to thwart what’s about to happen will soon be in my past.
The booking officers versus my arresting officers aren’t so different, except the arresting officers at least offered me coffee. These jerkoffs just ignore me when I tell them I could do with a caffeine kick.
Rude.
I sit at a desk with an overweight ghoul who has a very distinct lisp, waiting while he enters everything into the computer. He grumbles with every offense he has to add to my rap sheet. I guess all