Crimson Death (53 page)

W
E DIVIDED UP
into two groups. One went to the control room, where all their security cameras would be recording things and they could look into the cell as well as the hallway outside the cell. The second group went to the hallway with Magda. I sent Nathaniel with Damian up to the control room, because I was pretty sure that Magda was going to get out, and violence of some kind seemed likely. I wanted both of them safe and out of it. Since Jake was keeping Giacomo safe he stayed with them, and Fortune stayed there for the same reason. If we didn't have to leave the vampires unguarded, then why do it? In fact, there was really not a good reason for most of us to go down to the cells, so in the end it was just Magda, me, Nicky, and Socrates. He wanted to see the state-of-the-art cells and he could talk police with Flannery, and Griffin, who had actually been in the Garda Emergency Response Unit, before Nolan recruited them. They were both former military, too, but their civilian jobs had been as cops. Donnie, Mort, and Brennan had always been military. One of them had even been military police, an MP, so they'd handled detainees before. Socrates got more information out of everyone in a shorter time than I ever could have. I had a badge and was technically a real cop, but because I'd never been military and I hadn't come up through the ranks like a regular cop, I just didn't know how to talk like all the other cops. Socrates was great at it. They liked that he'd been a detective in Los Angeles, a real cop, before his “accident.” They'd gotten to the point of finding out that he was in a traditional marriage with nothing that made them uncomfortable or forced them to think outside the box. It made it all so much easier for him to find out that Flannery was married, too, and everyone else was single; beyond that I don't know because we got to the cell block.

There were two cells finished on one side of a corridor that was empty and smooth, as if it had been started and never finished. There were two more cells roughed out on the other side. Everything was painted white from ceiling to floor, so the hallway had a science fiction feel to it, complete with cameras near the ceiling inside clear bubbles that were supposed to be bulletproof. I was pretty sure that I knew a caliber big enough to make bulletproof into bullet resistant, but I let it go. We weren't here to test the cameras out; we were here to test the cells.

The doors were oversize, like they were expecting small giants. The hinges were large but strangely flat to the wall. There were two small windows in each door, one in the upper part and one in the lower part. Both had small bars in them and were covered by sliding metal panels. When the panels were closed the doors were solid metal.

Donnie used her earpiece to signal for the doors to be opened. “We can't open the doors from down here,” she said.

“What if you have a medical emergency with one of the prisoners?” Socrates asked.

They exchanged a look between all of them who weren't us. “Like what kind of medical emergency could a shapeshifter or a vampire have?” Brennan asked.

“If you put more than one new shapeshifter in a cell together, they will tear each other up,” he said.

“I thought they wouldn't attack each other,” Donnie said.

“Whoever told you that was wrong,” I said.

Socrates added, “We're less likely to attack each other, because humans smell more like food, but if a brand-new shapeshifter can't get to anyone else it will turn on another of its own kind.”

“What about vampires?” Donnie asked.

“They can't feed on one another, so I don't think they'll try to hurt one another.” But I was frowning as I said it. I looked at the others. “You know, I've never seen new vampires that didn't have an older one around somewhere. Will the newly vamped attack each other if there's no other food around? I mean, they don't know that they can't feed on each other unless someone tells them, right?”

“Giacomo says that other vampires smell bitter. They don't smell like something edible,” Magda said.

“Okay, then probably you can house multiple vampires together and they won't eat each other, but that doesn't mean they won't be violent to each other. I mean, I've seen vampires kill each other.”

“We don't have enough cells,” Donnie said.

“I think these three will be fine together,” Flannery said, and turned to me. “What do you think, Marshal?”

“I think you're probably right, but we should put vampires in separate holding areas if possible, or have them chained up so there's no chance of them hurting each other, or themselves.”

“What are your cells for them like, then?” Griffin asked.

“They aren't held long enough for it to be pertinent,” I said.

“What does that mean?” Donnie asked.

“It means she executes them,” Brennan said.

“Well, not just me, but yeah, usually they're executed too quickly for special cells to be needed.”

“You think they can't be held safely, don't you?” Flannery said.

“I think we tried it in the States and ended up with a lot of dead correctional officers and fellow prisoners trying to be fair to vampires, shapeshifters, and even human sorcerers.”

“But you've fought to get more lenient legislation on the books in your country so that execution isn't the only answer,” he said.

I nodded. “When the vampires are being controlled by a powerful enough master, they literally have no will of their own. They can be forced to kill and do other terrible things totally against their will. I fought to have the law reflect that. Because once I realized they really had no choice, killing them for it seemed worse, but the law didn't give me another option, so I worked to give myself another option.”

“Then you would rather not have to execute them?” Flannery said.

I thought about my answer and finally said, “If I think the person I'm about to kill was innocent, then yes, I want an option, but don't mistake me for someone who's against the death penalty. Most of the people I've executed have taken multiple lives, and I believe that ending their lives saved others.”

“We may have to agree to disagree,” he said, smiling, but his eyes stayed serious.

“We may,” I said.

The doors to the cells opened and one was as white as the hallway, but the other one was shiny. “Silver-infused paint,” Nicky said.

“Maybe one is just a glossier paint than the other one,” Donnie said.

He shook his head.

“How did you know that quickly?” she asked.

“Being around this much silver . . . you know.”

“Then it will limit what you can do inside the cell,” Flannery said.

He shook his head.

“Magda is not getting in a silver-lined cell,” I said.

“I am wearing good boots and I can use my clothes to protect my hands,” she said.

“No.”

She looked at the others and asked, “Do you want me to destroy the most expensive cell or the one that is the most useful?”

“Destroy away, as long as you can't get out,” Brennan said.

“Destroying it means I will break out of it.”

“The silver will sap your abilities and you'll be just as human as we are,” he said.

She and Nicky both laughed. Socrates didn't. “That's not what silver does to us.”

“I will be just as strong inside either cell. All you need to tell me is which cell you prefer I break out of, and which you want to keep for the vampire prisoners.”

“You haven't even touched the door or walls yet,” Mort said.

“I do not have to.”

He looked puzzled and almost frowned, but mostly just puzzled. “How can you be that certain you can break out without trying first?”

“I know my capabilities,” she said, giving him that calm face she did so well. I knew from experience that she could hide almost any thought behind that placid mask. It wasn't the pleasant smiling face that Fortune did; in fact, it unnerved some people because Magda looked almost totally unemotional when she did it. But I knew that she could be feeling anything, everything, behind that look, just like Fortune's one smile. It was a different way of hiding in plain sight.

Mort shook his head. “I thought I was arrogant.”

“It is not arrogance. It is self-knowledge.”

Mort stared up at her, studying her face and trying to see behind it, I think. He finally laughed. “That makes perfect sense to me.”

“Are you saying your bragging is because you really are that good?” Donnie asked, smiling.

He gave her a look that was a little too direct, but she had started it. “Have I ever said I can do something and not been able to do it?”

She had to think about that for a second or two, and then her smile faded around the edges. She gave a much more considering look. “No, you always do what you say you'll do.”

“Self-knowledge,” Magda said.

Mort nodded. “Self-knowledge.”

Flannery touched his ear and said, “We have a decision. If it won't harm Sanderson, we'd prefer she try to break out of the silver-lined one.”

“I'll leave the choice up to her, as long as we are clear that it's not an order,” I said.

“I understand it is my choice,” she said, still giving me that blank look that I knew could be hiding almost any thought or feeling. I knew one thing: Whatever was going on behind her blue-gray eyes, if she said she could break out of both cells, then she could.

“Is there anything in the cells that will hurt Magda other than the silver in the paint?” Socrates asked.

“What do you mean?” Flannery asked.

“Is anything booby-trapped?”

It was an excellent question. “I knew I brought you along for a reason, because you ask better questions than I do.”

He smiled at the compliment but gave serious eyes back to the other man. “Is there anything in the cell that we need to know about before we put one of our people inside it?”

“What Socrates said,” I said.

“We are trying to create a jail that will hold the supernatural. A regular jail cell would not be booby-trapped, and neither is this one,” Flannery said.

“Promise?” I said.

He gave a small smile. “Promise.”

I looked at Magda. “It's up to you.”

She smiled then, and just walked into the silver-coated cell.

“You can't use any of your weapons to break out, because we'd confiscate them from a real prisoner,” Mort said.

“Understood,” she said. She just stood there calmly, waiting for them to close the door.

Flannery gave the signal and the door started to swing shut. I watched her as long as I could, but her expression never changed. The door closed with a
whoosh
instead of a
clang
. I didn't understand exactly how the door worked, or where the lock was, but I didn't like having one of my people on the wrong side of it.

I leaned into Nicky and asked, “Would just standing surrounded by that much silver hurt?”

“Not unless it touches our skin,” he whispered back.

Socrates leaned in close and said, “It would still be unnerving as hell.”

“Nothing unnerves Magda,” Nicky said.

I agreed, but I still stared at the door and prayed,
Don't let her get hurt proving this point
.

T
HE HALLWAY SEEMED
very quiet after the door shut. It was almost like that hush before a storm, or like that moment when you close the door to the gun room behind you and you're in that little air lock room between the gun shop and the firing range where both doors must be closed before you can open the one that leads to the actual firing line. At the gun range you can hear the gunshots from the next room, but they're muffled both from the door and the room's soundproofing and the ear protection you're already wearing, but you know that on the other side of that last door it's going to be loud and full of potentially deadly things.

It was quiet for several minutes, so that Brennan said, “She's not getting out of there.”

Something hit the door so hard the metal rang. Brennan jumped, and he wasn't the only one. “Magda was looking the door over, figuring out where best to apply force,” Socrates said.

The metal rang again, and there was an almost whining sound with the next blow. “What is that?” I asked.

“The metal protesting,” Nicky said.

A spot in the door began to bow outward. I realized that Magda was kicking the door over and over again in the exact same spot. Had she figured out the lock mechanism? Had she spotted the weakest point on the metal? Or had she just chosen a spot and started pounding at it? I'd ask her later.

Nicky looked at our three hosts and asked, “What are you going to do when she gets out?”

Donnie showed a Taser in her hand. I shook my head. “Nope, we didn't negotiate for you hitting Magda with a Taser.”

The door began to crumple outward where she was kicking it. Mort asked, “Would a Taser slow her down?”

“Do they affect us? Yes. But not through a heavy jacket and sweater,” Nicky said.

“And if the Taser just causes them pain but doesn't stop them, you better have another idea,” I said.

“Pepper spray,” Donnie said.

“If it wouldn't work on a bear, don't try it on a lycanthrope,” I said.

“We don't have bears in Ireland.”

“America has bears and it's not that pepper spray in their eyes might not work, but your chances of getting it in their eyes before they claw you badly are pretty small. Same goes for wereanimals—you'll never make it.”

The metal door looked like a bubble was growing in it, a rapidly thinning bubble. It wasn't a question of if, but when she'd break through, and they still didn't have a secondary plan. Lucky it wasn't a real bad guy busting the door.

“What are you going to do?” Nicky asked.

“Flash-bang,” Mort said.

“It would disorient her, but then what?” Nicky asked.

“We subdue her,” he said.

“How?” Socrates asked.

Mort pulled out what looked like a small black stick in his hand; one sharp movement downward and the “stick” telescoped out into a baton. It was an ASP, which was like a thin club and you could use it like one; it was good for pressure points and just a policeman's little helper.

“Are you seriously going to try to subdue Magda with an ASP?” Socrates asked.

“Yes.”

The door shuddered.

“You haven't tried hand-to-hand with one of us yet.”

“No. Why?”

“When she comes through the door, if Nicky or Anita tells her to put on a show . . . you'll have your answer.” Socrates said it and started moving back down the hallway. He was right. If they were really going to be swinging at her and she was going to be dodging and maybe swinging back, farther away was going to be better.

Nicky took my arm and started backing us both away from the door. The door didn't fall down like it would in the movies. It bowed outward and I think she peeled it partway out of the doorframe, because I got a glimpse of her hair and face, a shoulder through the opening. I was strong, but not strong enough to look at that door and think,
I'll just kick it until it breaks
. That was like superhero strong, supernatural strong.

Donnie, Brennan, and Mort had their ASPs out and ready. Flannery had backed down the hallway in the other direction. Since I couldn't see a door on that side, he was still trapped with a potentially pissed werelion.

Magda shoved her shoulder into the opening she'd made at the edge of the door and wall, braced her hand on the doorframe, and just shoved. If I'd been either of the three waiting humans I might have jumped the gun and tried to hit her then, but they didn't, because we were all on the same side, or they were just too amazed at what she was doing to move. Either way, she was about to come out.

Nicky called out, “Magda, don't hurt them much!”

Her eyes flicked up to see more of the hallway. She shoved one last time hard, the metal screaming with the force of it, electronics sparking around her. Mort braced and did a little bounce on the balls of his feet, some kind of martial arts training. Brennan looked like he was about to box, and Donnie was just ready. I don't know how much of it Magda actually saw, but she gave that snarling smile that I'd started thinking of as a werelion kind of thing. She looked like she was going to push at the door again, but instead she ducked back into the room.

Mort stayed ready, so did Brennan, so did Donnie, but nothing happened. The hallway and the cell with its peeled-open door were quiet except for the sparking of the electronics that Magda had damaged when she opened the door.

Flannery yelled, “She's coming!”

If I'd done the math, I'd have said that Magda couldn't have leaped through the narrow opening she'd made, but I wasn't doing the math. She came through that improbable opening in a blur that even I couldn't follow. It was more a sense of movement like I saw her behind my eyes where you see dreams . . . or nightmares.