robotic voice spit out, “Unknown demon. Prisoner number one hundred thirty-eight. Access granted.”
The metal door groaned opened, and I slipped in before it quickly slammed shut. As soon as I was inside the new corridor, a pit of dread bored into my belly. What if I couldn’t get out now?
I whirled around, and my eyes found another scanner. Snagging my lower lip between my teeth, I waved my wrist over the black device. The click of the door unlocking returned the missing oxygen to my lungs. I quickly calculated it must have been about ten minutes since the buzzer rang which gave me about fifty before I was locked up in Block Eight for the night.
I picked up my pace as I searched the glass enclosures which were exact replicas of mine. Crossing my fingers, I hoped Delacroix hadn’t left his cell yet. Assuming I could find it, of course.
Most of the bare chambers were empty with the exception of a handful whose doors remained closed. I thanked the gods for that. Some pretty nasty looking demons lurked in the shadows. Gora bora demons with their gorilla-like forms, mezic demons, writhing snakes shooting from their fingers, and one of my personal favorites, the slutty succubi. My ex, Ryx, had been seeing one back at NU. I wasn’t jealous; it was just gross.
I tossed the thoughts aside, reminding myself to stay focused. I needed to find Delacroix, persuade him to tell me exactly what happened to me, and find out if he had any leverage with the new warden.
Approaching footsteps lifted my gaze to a pair of male jagga demons. From the outside, they appeared practically human, except for the small green nubs that protruded from their forehead. They hunted in pairs, paralyzing their prey with a toxic liquid that spewed from their stubby little horns.
You’re a hardcore demon too, Azara. I muttered the words in my head as I neared the unsavory twosome.
“What do we have here?” The first one clucked his tongue as he slowed at my approach.
His buddy grinned, flashing a row of pointy teeth. Oh right, sharp teeth too. “Looks like some fresh meat…” His tongue snaked out and slid over his upper lip. “And a pretty one.”
They can’t hurt me as long as we’re all wearing these cuffs. I tugged on the manacle around my wrist as fear twisted my insides. But I couldn’t hurt them either.
The jagga duo split in two and surrounded me. I backed up a few feet as my heartrate skyrocketed, but after a few steps I hit the wall. Mother trucker. Scanning the quiet corridor, I cursed my stupid move. These two could drag me into a cell, and no one would ever hear from me again.
My fingers curled into tight fists as the males circled, ogling me.
“She can’t be that new. She’s already in black scrubs,” said one.
“Then how did we miss her?”
“Well, she’s ours now.”
A tremor raced from the tips of my toes all the way up to my ears. A faint glow beneath my sleeve caught my eye. That’s weird. My demon mark didn’t usually light up. Maybe because I’d never really feared for my life before.
I clenched my jaw and injected as much steel in my voice as I could muster. “I’m not yours, demon scum. I eat guys like you for breakfast.” That was from some prison movie, right?
The second guy with the slightly more pointy nubs flared his nostrils. Lifting his chin, he neared and sniffed my neck. It took all I had to keep from shaking. “Animas soul-sucker,” he muttered. “Too bad that pretty little bracelet makes you harmless, sugar.”
“That’s what you think,” I growled.
“Why don’t we test out our theory, Bisk?”
The first guy nodded and as one they pressed closer. I glued myself to the wall, trying to melt into the dark surface. Why couldn’t I have inherited my mom’s powers? Then at least I’d be in the wicca block instead of demon hell.
“Step away!” A deep, grumbly voice echoed down the hall, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
The jagga twins leapt back, and my haggard lungs resumed their normal functioning. Until my eyes landed on the hellus demon marching toward us.
And his crew.
Chapter Ten
Delacroix Balthier, along with five or six other inmates, paraded down the hall. The head demon shot the jaggas a glare that would’ve melted the tallest turret of the Winter Court ice palace. When he reached us, he placed a clawed hand on each of their shoulders. “Did