Stolen Song (Paranormal Prison) - Autumn Reed ,Ripley Proserpina

Imogen

I made people nervous.

Actually, nervous was a bit of an understatement. I terrified people.

As I was led down the hall toward the warden’s office, I caught a flash of color, or the gleam of skin, but the forms skittered away from me as soon as I glanced toward them. They hid in the shadows of their cells as far away from me as they could get.

Nothing I did would assure people I meant no harm. Even if I could tell them—the other inmates of Nightmare Penitentiary—I wasn’t the thing that would kill them, they wouldn’t believe me.

Swallowing thickly, the collar around my neck biting into my skin, I shifted my gaze from the dark cells of my fellow inmates to the back of the warden’s head.

His broad-shouldered form held ramrod straight, he strode down the hall, uncaring of—or unmoved by—the wails and shrieks of the other prisoners.

I had no idea why he’d pulled me out of my cell. In the time I’d been locked up, shoved into a solitary room from which I had no hope of escaping, I’d learned that predictability was good. When every day began the same—oatmeal—and ended the same—lights out at sunset—I was safe.

Or I had the illusion of safety.

For all the bars and guards, for the magic and the pain compliance, there were times when the creatures locked in this place made a brief foray into freedom. Some of those beings enjoyed the hurt they inflicted on others. They followed their basest desires, reveling in the blood and chaos for as long as it took the guards to rally and shove them back into their holes.

So, I knew people died inside this prison.

But not because of me.

“Banshee inmate.” The warden spun on his heel, and I staggered to a stop. I was too close to him and took an instinctive step backwards. One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. I’d flinched. Stupid. The sign of weakness would come back to bite me somehow, I knew it.

He spoke again. “Banshee.”

That’s all I was here—a banshee. A wailer of songs and laments. I wasn’t Imogen Eveningsong or Genny. I was the messenger of death, and no one gave a single solitary eff about who I was or had been before I was dragged, protesting my innocence, to this hellhole.

Nearby, nails clicked against the cement floor, distracting me. I turned my head in time to recoil from a dark, hairy, clawed hand swiping at my face.

Jumping away, I slammed into the cell on the other side of the hall.

The warden smiled, both sides of his mouth lifting as if he’d never seen anything so amusing.

How he could smile in the face of a far darrig was beyond me. Clearly the man was so confident of his safety that he didn’t so much as blink at this creature.

I, on the other hand, was scared witless.

This, this, was a nightmare. I’d never seen one up close. He wore red from head to toe, which made me think he must not have been here long. Or perhaps this was a being who scared the guards as much as I did. Far darrigs were known for their uniform.

I covered my mouth and nose with my hand as the smell hit me. It only took one breath to realize that the color came not from dye, but from the blood which soaked the red cap’s clothing.

Cold, black eyes met and held mine, and he reached for me, opening and closing his hand. “Banshee,” he said in a gravelly voice, “sing for me. Give me my freedom.”

It was the last request I expected, and in that moment, I was struck by just how hopeless this place was if even a red cap wished for death.

Goosebumps raised the hairs on my skin as a cool breath wafted over my neck. “This banshee doesn’t sing.” The warden stood like a shadow at my back, fingers lightly grazing my elbow as he turned me back toward his office.

The red cap stared at me one second longer with...pity? That was new. He pulled his lips back from his teeth. But the warning hiss that came out of him wasn’t for me. His gaze flicked toward the warden, whose fingers dug into my flesh.

I was a banshee whose song was feared, and until I arrived here, most people treated me with a far-removed respect. In prison, all of that disappeared. I was only one faceless, nameless creature who was deserving of punishment. If the red cap was surprised