Page 3 of Ravenous Prophecy
“It’s cute that you’re being all haughty and superior here, like you’re any better than me.” I jabbed a finger down at the floor. “News flash. We’re both in here. You don’t get to crow at me from your pedestal. Because what, I look more like a criminal than you do?”
“That’s not what I meant at all.” He shrank under my gaze, and that only pissed me off even more. If he wasgoing to be a total prick, he should at least have the decency to commit.
“What are you in for, anyway?” My lips curled into a sneer. Something nasty was about to come out, and I wasn’t planning to stop it. “Too many unpaid fees on your overdue books?”
His cheeks blew up, his chin rose. I could almost imagine steam pouring out of his ears. “It wasn’t anything like that at all. A client paid me to authenticate this document.”
“So itwasexactly like that.” I folded my arms triumphantly. “Nerd stuff.”
“I said it wasn’t! It was a ritual, something to do with summoning the Hive. And the next thing I know, I have these MEA agents busting the door down, and?—”
The sparkle in his eyes, that mingled excitement and fear? I almost felt sorry about bursting his bubble.
“Oh. Of course. The Hive.”
His forehead furrowed. “What’s wrong with the Hive? They’re a legitimate field of study. I’ve dedicated years of my life to the locusts.” He sat up, fiddling with his shirt, preening again. “Topic of my graduate thesis, too.”
“You’re kidding, right? Has there ever been evidence of the Hive on this planet? It’s just a myth, is all. A fairy tale.”
He flung his hands upward. “And look what we know now! The fae are real. They exist.”
“Sure. But sometimes myths are exactly what they are. Fables. Legends. This Hive of yours? It’s none of my business if you’re building your career on something that doesn’t exist. I’m just saying. You seem like the type to pride yourself on facts. Scholarly work. Academia.” Theinsult curled like a plume of fire in my belly. “You strike me as a piss-poor academic.”
His upper lip shuddered, his eyebrows knitting in the center of his forehead. “And you’re a piss-poor whatever you want to call yourself. You’renoarcheologist. What kind of artifact hunter can’t squeak his way through customs? What, first day on the job?”
I rose to my full height, fists tightened. “Listen here, you little shit. Those forms are impossible to maneuver.”
At the sound of a throat clearing, I glanced, startled, at the agent standing in the open door. We’d been so intent on slinging insults at one another that we had somehow missed his arrival. “Looks like I came just in time,” he muttered. “Griffin Gallows? Please follow me. She wants to see you.”
I rolled my shoulders and tilted my neck to either side. “About damn time.”
“Wait.” The man’s feet shuffled against the floor, so shifty and nervous even sitting down. “Who wants to see you?”
“The warden. Your mom. The president. Pick one. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you.”
I groaned as I stretched, my limbs already relishing the simple promise of freedom and life beyond an eight-foot-square box. I followed the agent out, tipped my imaginary hat at my cellmate as I shot him one last grudging look. In my mind, I was really giving him the finger.
The latch clicked into place behind us. He sprang to his feet, rushing to the door. “But wait,” he said, and I almost grinned at how pitiful he sounded with the wood between us. “Why am I still here?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” I waved him away from the enchanted door. Why was I trying to protect him? He knew already,andhe was a prick. “This thing is graven with magic. Back the hell up.”
The man did as I said, his hands held up. Through the window, I could have sworn I caught a fleeting spark of gratitude in his eyes before it hardened into anger once again. But it must have been my imagination. There’s no way I could have seen that through the frosted glass. Fine. Good riddance. That was what I deserved for trying to be nice.
Why did I ever bother?
CHAPTER 2
BRADLEY
After my cellmate left,I spent what felt like an entire geological era split between pacing, sitting, and remembering not to touch the door. Each time I approached, I remembered his sneer as he reminded me about the effect of touching the magically sealed door.
More fool you, Bradley. Just like I hadn’t noticed what was happening with the scroll until it was too late.
“Sir? Please stand up against the back wall.” I hadn’t even heard the agent approach or disarm the door. His hand rested on something at his hip, and in some distant part of my brain, I catalogued it as a handgun, presumably augmented with spell work on the sides. I was squinting through the frosted glass, trying to see the wording, when the agent said, “He’s not listening. Get the restraints.”
Immediately, I backed up to stand against the wall as instructed, both hands raised. “No. No restraints necessary. I’m fine. Whatever you need. Thank you.”
The agent grinned his Cheshire grin, glancing at the other officer beside him. I winced. “Thank you” had beenoverkill, but I’d never been in this situation before, and Mother had always said a little politeness went a long way toward greasing any social wheels. Whenever she said that, Father would say that our money was all the grease we needed.
