“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me?” I asked, reaching the two officers. They were dressed in the same black Kevlar uniforms that Officer Mallenberg had worn, the first time I’d visited this place. Two electroshock batons graced each of their hips, and their faces were grizzled and broad. I could only imagine the kinds of people they’d dealt with in this prison and the things they’d seen those people do.
The first man frowned. “Visitor?”
I nodded. “I spoke to Officer Mallenberg last time. Is he around?”
“Gone on lunch. Who’re you visiting?” the second guy answered, his voice as gruff as his face.
“Finch Shipton.” I’d thought about going to see Emily Ryder while I was here, but there didn’t seem to be any point. The prison’s interrogation team hadn’t been able to get anything out of her, and I doubted my skills were better than theirs.
“Do you want to take her, Timpson?” the first man asked.
The second nodded. “Sure, I’ve got nothing else to do. The name’s Officer Arrowsmith.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Harley Merlin.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Merlin, huh? Not seen one of your ilk in here in a long time. Don’t you be getting yourself locked up in one of these here cells. It’d be a travesty.”
“I won’t.” Thanks pal… I think.
“Follow me, Miss,” he said, turning around and leading me down a familiar path.
Even though I knew where he was taking me, Purgatory took some getting used to. It was a labyrinth of hallways and cells, all lit with severe white neon bulbs that cast a clinical light against the cement-gray walls. Having honed my skills a bit since last time, I was better prepared for the barrage of dark emotions that slammed into me—violent rage, bubbling resentment, desperate panic, solemn resignation, penetrating sadness, and that reminiscent hint of curiosity as I passed the prisoners. I paid them no attention, figuring it was best to keep my gaze fixed on Arrowsmith’s shoulders. His emotions were easy—boredom and a flicker of bitterness.
I noted the usual runes engraved across every frame of the cells as well as the crackle of the modified cuffs the prisoners wore. Part of me wondered what awful things these people had done to get in here. Nobody came to Purgatory for misdemeanors.
As we reached solitary confinement, the overwhelming pulse of the prisoners’ emotions eased up, the agony and despair much easier to control. The prisoners’ emotions were far louder than those of the SDC assemblies, and the rage inside them was nearly impossible to drown out. It permeated everything, ricocheting off every wall. Thankfully, there were fewer inmates here, where the bars gave way to solid steel doors with hatches built into the center.
Ah, good old number 230.
“Here you go,” Arrowsmith said, unlocking the latch and opening it. He hadn’t even bothered to let Finch know I was there, though I could see him lounging on the bed at the back of the room.
“Thanks, Officer.”
“No problem.” He turned and pointed to a glass box of a room nearby. “I’ll be over there at the guard station. Press the panic button if he gets too fresh for you.”
As Arrowsmith retreated, I knocked on the side of the steel door to alert Finch. He sat up in surprise, a scowl scrunching up his face as soon as he saw me through the hatch. Dropping the book he’d been reading on the bed, he stalked over and leaned against the door. He was so close I could smell the standard-issue medicinal soap on his skin.
He leered at me. “The redhead returns.”
I frowned at him, scrutinizing him closely. He looked slightly different. His sky-blue eyes were filled with the same venom I’d seen before, burning with a blood-chilling hatred of me, but strands of rich, dark auburn were starting to show through his platinum hair. Clearly, they hadn’t allowed him whatever dye he’d been using. It had grown longer, too, revealing unexpected curls. He’s a total mix of my dad and his mom. Weird.
“Says you,” I retorted. “Looking a little more copper these days, Finch.”
He flicked his wrist absently. “Red is my mother’s color. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You, on the other hand…”
“Come on, I know you’re happy to see me,” I half-taunted. “It’s got to be pretty damn boring, sitting in a cell all day with nothing to do. Don’t you get cable in this place? I thought that was the main perk of prison.” My strange desire to send him into a rage disturbed me somewhat. Like poking a sleeping bear. I couldn’t help myself. It was too easy. I was practically licking my lips at the prospect of him seeing the files. He’s going to be so mad.
“I’ve been expanding my mind with books from the library, if you must know,” he replied, with that eerie grin of his. “Now, what brings you to my cell door, Little Sis?” He spat the last two words as though he hated the taste of them in his mouth.
“Nice to see we’re on the same wavelength, Bro. Since the Family Gathering is tomorrow, I thought I’d bring you a gift,” I continued, anticipation throbbing in my veins. “Here, I thought you might like to have a look at these. I must be psychic, bringing you some decent reading material.”
He stared down at the flap in his door, where things could be passed through. Ducking down, I slid the folder to him. He picked it up and flicked through it, his eyes darting left to right as he read the words. A curious hesitation passed across his face as he paused on the image of our father on a mortuary slab. I’d circled the rune on Hiram’s neck and detailed the reason for its existence above. He quickly moved on to the next page, reading the notes I’d made on Sál Vinna.
A moment later, he scoffed. “Is this supposed to impress me, Harley? Did you think this would warm my ice-cold heart to daddykins?” A bitter laugh rolled from his throat. “All this proves is that our father was weak and disobedient to my mother’s greatness. Being consumed by a curse doesn’t make him a good person. I’m sure you’ve been telling everyone that he’s innocent. I can picture your gleeful little face when you found this out. Well, I’ve got news for you: this doesn’t clear him of his part in those murders. He killed men and women. He still did it, even if the curse forced his hand. He’s as innocent as I am.”
His words chilled me. I felt the sting of them deep in my soul. The dark curse had made him do it, but those people were still dead. Harley, your father was a good man. Without the curse, he would never have done those things. Without the curse, he would have tried to stop Katherine. I was certain of it. In that way, I could reconcile his part in the murders and still call him innocent.
“Well, I’ve got news for you too, Finch,” I shot back, struggling to keep the anger out of my voice. “Do you know how that kind of spell is fueled? I’m guessing you don’t, since you haven’t gotten to the last pages yet.”
He frowned. “There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind about our father. He was a pathetic specimen, not fit to lick my mother’s boots.”
“Katherine fueled that spell by killing everyone else in our family line,” I continued, undeterred. “She killed the Merlins because she had to, in order to make the curse work, but she killed the Shiptons because she wanted to. They weren’t part of the curse, but she did it anyway.”
Finch’s gaze shot up to meet mine. “No… you’re lying.” His voice caught in his throat. “My mother told me that there was a terrible accident. Hester released a deadly sickness curse that killed them all at a family reunion. The Merlins and the Shiptons. My mother said so.”
I gaped at him in shock. Was that what Katherine had told him? Had she made him think she was innocent of that?
I shook my head slowly. “Nope, Katherine lied to you, just as she lied about getting you out of here. I don’t see any locks being picked or any wrecking balls coming through the wall, do you? She doesn’t care about you, Finch. You were a pawn, and your moves on the board are finished. She’s still playing, but you’re out of the game. She doesn’t give a damn about you. She’d happily let you rot here for the rest of your life—to her, it’s just another family member ticked off the list.”
“You are the liar.”
“Think about it for a moment, Finch. I know you want her to love you; I know you want to be wanted by her, but it’s never going to happen. You need to wake up,” I snapped. “Look at the Ryder twins. Where did their loyalty get them, huh? Emily is rotting in this place, and Emmett is worm food. Does Katherine care? No, of course she doesn’t. She’s got plenty of others to take their place. Every single one of you is expendable to her. It doesn’t matter if you’re tied by blood or blind devotion. You’re all the same to her.”
Finch’s eyes flashed with rage. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know the promises she’s made to me! You don’t know anything about us. You might share our blood, Harley, but you don’t know a damn thing about me and my mother!”
“What promises? To break you out of here? I’ve already told you, she’s not coming.” That’s right, poke the bear some more. Get him to pour his soul out.
“No, you pathetic halfwit! She is coming for me, not only because I’m her son but because of the promises she made,” he spat. “She promised she would fix my mind and give me my sanity back. She swore she would take away the torment in my head—the schizophrenic part of me that has ruined my life, for all these years. She will keep that promise because she caused this. She made me this way. She hexed our father, and I was born under the curse of that hex. It damaged my mind. It damaged me… and she has vowed to repair it.”
I frowned. “There was no hex, Finch. She’s lying about that, too. I hate to admit it, but my father and your mother created you because they slept together—because they wanted to, for whatever reason. Too many tequilas, a moment of weakness, a shoulder to cry on; I can think of a thousand scenarios that led them there, but none of them involved coercion. You were conceived before she’d used Sál Vinna on him. Going by the timeline of events, you couldn’t have been born after.”