that beast is acting, well…” He shook his head. “Can’t take chances, and that animal is dangerous. I’ve already had to move the other prisoners out of that cell block, which creates a hazard. Can’t keep them stacked up three or four to a cell.”
This time, Rule growled. The sound was eerily like a wolf’s, not the weak imitation a human throat makes.
Lily put a hand on his arm. His muscles were rigid. But a quick glance told her his eyes were still brown, not black-swallowed. He was in control.
She took a few seconds to consider options. Was Daly crazy enough to think he could get away with shooting Chance in wolf form? Maybe he just intended Rule to think he would. Maybe he wanted Rule to jump him so he’d have an excuse to lock Rule up, too.
Or maybe he meant it. He might really have one of his people shoot Chance. It wasn’t illegal to shoot a wolf—not if the animal could be considered a danger to others. Not even if it was only a part-time wolf, and killing him meant killing the human, too. Daly might believe he could get away with it—a beast-lost lupus was a danger, no doubt about that.
If he had been free he would be, that is. Which was the whole problem.
“All right,” she said crisply. “You’ve made your position clear, Chief Daly. Officer Hawes, please escort me to your prisoner.”
The jailer blinked. “Uh—don’t have a prisoner now. He’s a wolf, and a wolf isn’t a prisoner.”
Which meant that legally they could do all sorts of things to him. Things that would keep him panicked and furious, unable to reason, unable to understand that he was better off in his other form. They’d keep him beast-lost because Daly wanted him that way. “Then let me put it this way. You have a witness I need to see in one of your cells, and I don’t care what form he’s wearing. I require immediate access to that witness.”
Daly remained complacent. “Sorry. Can’t do it. That animal’s crazy, and until we have him subdued—”
“Chief.” She stepped up to his desk and looked down at him. “You can’t stop me.”
“I for damn sure can. This is my jail, under my authority, and I’m responsible for—”
“I’ve presented you with my badge. You’ve had time to confirm that I am, indeed, an agent of Unit Twelve of the Magical Crimes Division of the FBI. Under the Domestic Security and Magical Crimes Law as amended on January tenth of this year, you cannot stop me. If you continue to try, I will arrest you for impeding my investigation.”
His mouth opened. Closed. Red arose in a vascular tide to suffuse his face. Finally he spoke in a voice all but strangled with fury. “You wouldn’t dare.”
There were all sorts of things she might have said or done to defuse the situation, ways she could show respect for his position while insisting on her own authority.
Lily didn’t even try. She planted her hands on his desk and leaned forward until her face was a foot from his. His breath smelled like stale chili. The veins stood out in his neck and forehead, and his freckles were pale splotches in his red face.
Her lips curled up. Softly she said, “Try me.”
Hatred burned in his eyes. “You’ll regret this. You’re going to regret this for a real long time.”
The Del Cielo jail was larger than expected for a town this small, but the city rented spaces to the state—and given the state’s overcrowded system, it had no trouble funding the operation of its jail this way.
The setup was pretty standard. Probably built in the fifties, Lily thought, with cinderblock walls and cement floors. There were two cell blocks, each opening off a small control center with three screens—one for the hall splitting each cell bock, apparently. The third was dark.
Lily had suspicions about that dark screen. “Got a problem with your cameras?” she asked as Daly jammed a key into the old-fashioned lock on a heavy steel door.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her.
The moment the
This time, Rule growled. The sound was eerily like a wolf’s, not the weak imitation a human throat makes.
Lily put a hand on his arm. His muscles were rigid. But a quick glance told her his eyes were still brown, not black-swallowed. He was in control.
She took a few seconds to consider options. Was Daly crazy enough to think he could get away with shooting Chance in wolf form? Maybe he just intended Rule to think he would. Maybe he wanted Rule to jump him so he’d have an excuse to lock Rule up, too.
Or maybe he meant it. He might really have one of his people shoot Chance. It wasn’t illegal to shoot a wolf—not if the animal could be considered a danger to others. Not even if it was only a part-time wolf, and killing him meant killing the human, too. Daly might believe he could get away with it—a beast-lost lupus was a danger, no doubt about that.
If he had been free he would be, that is. Which was the whole problem.
“All right,” she said crisply. “You’ve made your position clear, Chief Daly. Officer Hawes, please escort me to your prisoner.”
The jailer blinked. “Uh—don’t have a prisoner now. He’s a wolf, and a wolf isn’t a prisoner.”
Which meant that legally they could do all sorts of things to him. Things that would keep him panicked and furious, unable to reason, unable to understand that he was better off in his other form. They’d keep him beast-lost because Daly wanted him that way. “Then let me put it this way. You have a witness I need to see in one of your cells, and I don’t care what form he’s wearing. I require immediate access to that witness.”
Daly remained complacent. “Sorry. Can’t do it. That animal’s crazy, and until we have him subdued—”
“Chief.” She stepped up to his desk and looked down at him. “You can’t stop me.”
“I for damn sure can. This is my jail, under my authority, and I’m responsible for—”
“I’ve presented you with my badge. You’ve had time to confirm that I am, indeed, an agent of Unit Twelve of the Magical Crimes Division of the FBI. Under the Domestic Security and Magical Crimes Law as amended on January tenth of this year, you cannot stop me. If you continue to try, I will arrest you for impeding my investigation.”
His mouth opened. Closed. Red arose in a vascular tide to suffuse his face. Finally he spoke in a voice all but strangled with fury. “You wouldn’t dare.”
There were all sorts of things she might have said or done to defuse the situation, ways she could show respect for his position while insisting on her own authority.
Lily didn’t even try. She planted her hands on his desk and leaned forward until her face was a foot from his. His breath smelled like stale chili. The veins stood out in his neck and forehead, and his freckles were pale splotches in his red face.
Her lips curled up. Softly she said, “Try me.”
Hatred burned in his eyes. “You’ll regret this. You’re going to regret this for a real long time.”
The Del Cielo jail was larger than expected for a town this small, but the city rented spaces to the state—and given the state’s overcrowded system, it had no trouble funding the operation of its jail this way.
The setup was pretty standard. Probably built in the fifties, Lily thought, with cinderblock walls and cement floors. There were two cell blocks, each opening off a small control center with three screens—one for the hall splitting each cell bock, apparently. The third was dark.
Lily had suspicions about that dark screen. “Got a problem with your cameras?” she asked as Daly jammed a key into the old-fashioned lock on a heavy steel door.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her.
The moment the
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