Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
As soon as I boarded the boat, I forced all of the emotions that were twisted up inside me to the back of my mind. I needed to be stoic now. I couldn’t step inside this place like an open wound. I needed to be an impenetrable vault. A wall so high it was impossible to climb.
I sat on a bench on the outer edge of the small ship. Sergeant Davis and several other members of the Guard were on board. My hands were cuffed and secured to a metal bar behind me. The act was in play now, and for all intents and purposes, I was a murderer being transported to the prison to serve my time.
There could be no slip-ups. No one could know the truth, not even the prison guards who worked there. Only the warden knew my real purpose, and they would closely watch me. I was assured I’d be removed if things got too hairy, and I had precise instructions to follow when my mission was complete.
I would have to tear a strip of cloth from my prison garb and knot it around one of the bars of my cell. The warden would check the cameras each morning, and when he saw the knotted fabric, he would pull me out.
Soon, the island came into view. It was a small expanse of land, but the prison took up almost the entire area. The outer perimeters of the large stone building were nearly in line with the rocky shore. It was dotted with hundreds of small, barred windows, allowing the prisoners a tiny view outside their cells. Thick, thorny vines crawled up the walls, crackling and fizzing with magic. They were a manifestation of the wards that surrounded this place and were quite fearsome to behold.
The building was circular in design, like a giant round tower. I could practically feel the magic as we neared, the wards and blocks humming with life, preventing magical and non-magical prisoners alike from escaping.
Seagulls cawed overhead, and I looked up, noticing how they circled one end of the prison, searching for food. The courtyard was where the prisoners had their daily time outdoors. I’d been taught all about it by Sergeant Davis. I knew the layout of the prison by heart, and the yard could be a dangerous place. It was where prisoners exercised and interacted, but it was also where rivalries and disagreements were settled, often with violence.
Sergeant Davis said the prison guards rarely intervened, instead allowing conflicts to play out. It was a brutal place in that regard. The main aim of the prison was to keep convicts from escaping. The guards cared little for any physical harm inmates might endure so long as they remained within its walls.
We’d almost reached the shore when I inhaled a large gulp of salty sea air. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend I was simply enjoying a nice day at the beach and not about to step into one of the most notorious prisons in the supernatural world.
“They’re really sending you to prison?” came a voice, and I startled, just like I always did when Belinda’s ghost appeared. She sat perched on the edge of the bench next to me, her ghostly gaze fixed on the building across the water. I glanced at Sergeant Davis and the other officers. They weren’t paying me any attention and were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear me talking to Belinda so long as I kept my voice down.
“I’m going undercover,” I told her quietly. “Remember? The Guard thinks Vasilios is somehow accessing his magic from inside the prison. He used it to get messages to the outside to frame me.”
Belinda stared at me, an unnatural stillness about her. “This is all about you. I was killed because of you. You might as well have stuck the blade in yourself, Darya.”
I tried not to let her accusation drown me in guilt because, honestly, there was nothing to dispute. From what I knew, she was right. It was odd to watch her sit there, folding her arms and looking away from me in irritation while still dressed in her bloodied school uniform.
“Can you still not remember anything about who killed you?” I asked as gently as possible.
“No. As I said, it’s a complete blank.”
I pondered that. “Maybe we’re not supposed to remember our deaths in the afterlife. It would probably be too traumatising when we’re supposed to be at peace.”
Belinda made a noise of disgruntlement. “Do I look like I’m at peace? I’m obviously not going to move on to whatever afterlife awaits me until this undercover mission of yours is complete. It’s my unfinished business, as they say.”
“Right,” I replied before asking, “Where do you go when you’re not talking to me?”
Belinda cocked her head, shooting me an unkind look. “Do you think you’re the only person I have to concern myself with? I had a whole life before I was brutally murdered, you know. There are other people I need to visit and keep an eye on.”