Who is Magpie?
Chapter 19- A Padded Cell

A growl, so loud the windows shook, exploded from Ezekiel. He stepped over Magpie, who laid unconscious, toward Bronx. Bronx was easily a few inches taller than Ezekiel, but in a fight it was no contest. Ezekiel grabbed the man by his shirt and roared again.

“You dare lay a hand on what I have claimed as mine?!” He demanded.

Bronx started to stammer but then remembered how unlike this Ezekiel was. “What do you mean? She was taking a swing at you. Another, might I add from the looks of you.” He regarded the already healed cuts over his chest, face and leg, which Ezekiel had forgotten about.

“She got pretty close, didn’t she?” He mused with a smile, touching the one on his side by his peck. “She is strong. How did she get in?”

Another of the guards, Fiona, piped up. “We were able to track her scent into the garage, but that ridiculous little mopping robot eliminated any scent from there.”

Ezekiel laughed. “Clever girl.”

“Alpha…” Bronx said tentatively. “You denied her an honourable death, whatever your reasons, we have to take her to the cells until a meeting can be held to decide her fate.”

Ezekiel began to growl again, but he knew the code better than any of them. “I will take her.”

He slid her to the edge of the bed, finished patting down her legs and noticed her shoes were missing. He removed her backpack, and picked her up, handing the bag to Bronx.

“Go through her bag and tell me what you learn, tomorrow,…” he looked at the clock, sighing. “…After the sun comes up.” He began leaving the room passing confused guards all with similar expression, before stopping in front of Fiona. “Her shoes are missing, find them and it might give a clue as to how she got in.”

Fiona nodded and took off with her team to check the trail again, as Ezekiel walked more slowly behind them. Bronx knew better than to follow him yet, despite not sure exactly what was going on he still new better. Ezekiel breathed in the scent of her hair, and her clothes. She smelt like the Fae, like the flowers that they kept, and consumed, but that wasn’t her smell. She smelt like lemons and something bitter like black tea. Nothing smelt like lemons, lemons were man made.

As he laid her on the bed in the cell he cringed at the cold of the mattress. His arms and chest were damp from her sweat, and her teeth chattered quietly. He went to the closet to fetch her a blanket, only to return and have to dive to catch her as she nearly rolled off the cot onto the floor.

Ezekiel had never heard of anyone rolling off these beds, but while he sat with her, waiting for the doctor he had ordered, she nearly did it again. As every other cell was empty he went into each, grabbing the mattresses off their frames and laid them all on the floor beneath her. After he had done that he decided Bronx probably thought he was joking about medical aid and bandaged her hand himself with a small kit that had been stuffed in a filing cabinet.

He continued to sit there, watching her and waiting for her to wake up for hours, until the sun had firmly found its place in the sky, but he didn’t even feel tired anymore by that point. He began to wonder if his own men had forgotten about him down there when Bronx came trudging down the stairs with her bag in hand.

He eyed the mattressed floor curiously. “Planning a slumber party?”

“Ah shut up.” Ezekiel barked. “She keeps falling off. It’s like she’s never had a bed before.”

“She’s Fae right? Aren’t their homes decorated lavishly with every penny they’ve scrounged away?” Bronx mocked, eyeing the well abused backpack questionably.

“That’s the thing though. I don’t believe she’s Fae.” Ezekiel murmured. “She doesn’t smell like them.”

“You were smelling her?” Bronx questioned, looking from him to the girl on the bed, who had shivered herself against the wall.

Ezekiel lifted the bag to Bronx’s face. “Smell it!”

Bronx began to argue but stopped, taking a deeper smell of the bag where her back had touched it. “Lemons? No one ever smells of Fucking lemons, they aren’t even naturally occurring.”

“That’s what I thought. The Fae are up to something.” Ezekiel muttered again, watching the girl worriedly as her tremors increased.

“Other than trying to have you killed ?” Bronx asked, baffled by the understatement.

“I’ll give it to you that she got in unseen, and even managed to enter my bedroom, but she had no hope of killing me. Even if she had she wouldn’t have been able to get out. The Fae would never risk their own like that. Did anyone find how she got inside by the way?” Ezekiel turned to see Bronx shaking his head. “Pitty, I’ll have to ask her when she wakes up.” He muttered, eyeing his friend again.

“Look I’m sorry I knocked her out, I panicked.” He reasoned.

“That my second in command would get so flustered over a female, maybe I should reconsider your post.” The chide had Bronx fumbling over his tongue.

“Alright haha, very funny. Look I’m not a morning person…” Bronx looked over as the sound of chattering teeth stopped. “And look there, she’s awake so you can ask her now.”

Ezekiel’s head whipped around so fast Magpie jumped on the cot, much to her embarrassment. She rubbed the top of her head as the lump ran a jolt of pain behind her eye. Her and Ezekiel’s eyes locked together, a roar rolling from his chest and a thunderous pumping heartbeat from hers.

Her breathing became rougher as her cheeks flushed, but Ezekiel didn’t have time to let that stroke his ego as the sweat returned to her face. Magpie felt sick, like a fever was overcoming her and willed herself to stay upright. She had never been physically ill before, never sick a day in her life, and she didn’t want her first time to be in her prison cell. She wondered if her tea had been different this time, remembering how she often got sick drinking teas in the Garden in the beginning.

Ezekiel didn’t break his eye contact, making Magpie feel increasingly unwell. “Take a picture.” She muttered under her breath, willing her body to quit sweating and swaying.

Bronx let loose a booming laugh that was quickly cut short by an elbow in the chest. “What?” He barked, but Ezekiel was firmly ignoring him.

“You tried to kill me.” He said flatly. Continuing to look at her even as she dragged her own eyes away.

“Did a piss poor job from the sounds of you still jabbering away.” She muttered again.

Bronx stifled another laugh for fear of another jab.

“Why?” Ezekiel asked instead.

Magpie didn’t bother stifling her laugh. “Why do you care why?”

“How did you get in?” He asked instead, when she remained silent he got a wicked idea. “See, he thinks you got lucky, hopped a fence near one of the back corners and just dodged through the breaks in our guard rotation. Ithink you used your feminine charms to sweet talk your way into a tour of the gardens and never left.”

The word ‘garden’ caught her attention, and she turned away. “If only I had known about such glaring holes in your security team, I could have kept my jumper clean.”

Bronx was very much enjoying this exchange and handed him the bag, hoping it would continue. Ezekiel sat in the chair across from the bed just outside the cell and opened the bag. Magpie didn’t even fret, knowing exactly what she packed. First he pulled out the lock picks.

“Did you check the doors?” Ezekiel asked Bronx, not looking away from Magpie, who laughed.

“Made it close enough to draw blood and you still think I’m an amateur?” She was still sweating, but she was being hard enough on herself without him adding to it. “You won’t find a scratch.”

“Nothing on the garage door? Really?” Ezekiel challenged, eyeing her.

She didn’t move. “Why don’t you get out the hounds to find how I got in.”

Bronx erupted in laughter. “Pull out another thing.” He encouraged.

“A shirt, nothing special there, a flashlight, makes sense really, with the couple of knives and the baton in my room… you were really underprepared.” Ezekiel mocked, tossing her things back into her bag.

She shrugged. “Seems like I brought a T-shirt and a flashlight too much.”

Ezekiel laughed then, “Touché.”

As he pat down the rest of the bag’s pockets Magpie suddenly remembered Swan putting something in her bag. She had meant to check that pocket when she got in the car but had forgotten about it by then. Wondering what it could have possibly been, Magpie barely prevented herself from leaning forward, but Bronx waited anxiously to see her reaction. He had already found what was hidden there, had it inspected, and returned for the purpose of questioning.

Ezekiel pulled out a small satchel of mixed herbs. “What is this?” Bronx lent over to him, whispering to him a list of the herbs they could identify within. “What is this?” He demanded again of Magpie.

Magpie was confused, standing up despite the spinning in her head and walking on uneasy feet on the mattressed floor to the bars to look closer. “Can I smell it?”

Despite Bronx’ arguments, Ezekiel moved closer to the bars, holding the satchel out towards her. This was one moment she was too curious to consider grabbing his hand and yanking him into the rails, or simply snatching the bundle for herself. She leaned closer to the bar, reaching out with her nose and sniffed the satchel, sure she could figure it out.

“My tea?” She whispered, but both wolves had heard her. “… why would she pack my tea blend on such an obvious one day or one way trip.” She muttered to herself, completely forgetting the hearing capacity of her visitors for her usual company.

She walked back to the bed stepping on wobbly feet over the mattresses again, flopping loudly on the cot and leaning her head against the wall to chill her skin.

Bronx pulled Ezekiel slightly down the hall, away from where she could hear. “That doesn’t make sense. She must be lying.”

“She looked pretty surprised to me, compared to everything else she’s said, the seemed pretty authentic.” Ezekiel returned, finding it almost humorous.

Bronx shook his head. “You don’t get it. This mix… It could have been used to not only control you, but make you weak, more vulnerable. What if the attack was a distraction for putting this in the food or drink in the pack house, or specifically yours.”

Ezekiel nodded. “I still believe her response, but it’s not worth the risk. Have the kitchen and pantry checked twice, and then have a second team check it again. Nothing comes out of that kitchen until it’s confirmed clean. Go.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Bronx replied, taking off.

Ezekiel walked back over to his chair and looked at Magpie. “What’s your name?” She shook her head. “Are you sure this is your tea from home?”

Magpie’s face twitched at the word ‘home’ being used to describe the Garden. “I am positive that that is my tea, I have had it everyday for as long as I can remember.”

Ezekiel felt a pain in his chest at that. With everything else she refused to admit, she clearly didn’t think much about admitting to this. She clearly believe this was an everyday tea, and that made him feel sorry for the life she’d endured.

He wanted to stay with her, to try and get more from her, but he sensed there wouldn’t be much else she would admit to right now. “Your breakfast will be brought down when it is done, until then, try not to murder anyone.”

“No promises.” She muttered but as he turned to leave she shouted. “Hey, wait!” He stopped and turned to her, but she was looking at the ground. “Are all prisons this… padded?”

“Is that a serious question?” He looked at her until she met his gaze.

“Never been caught before.” She muttered, pouting slightly.

“Cute.” He whispered, more to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He assured. “Yeah, it’s pretty normal.” He said as he left the room, climbing the stairs.

Magpie was left sitting on the bed, but quickly moved to the floor, feeling more comfortable there. With the alpha out of the room she began to feel better, but when he was there she felt uneasy . Her skin heated like she was having an allergic reaction, and she felt a haze in her head like she was only half awake, or half there.

Alone now, with nothing to distract her she was alone with her disappointment. She had failed, but, more than that, they didn’t expect her to succeed. Packing her tea… it only made sense if they didn’t plan on her being back the next day… She begged for her mind to think of a reason that this made sense.

Thinking of Kay didn’t help, but she hoped that she had gotten her note. Not being afraid of dying didn’t make waiting easier, and she wondered how long they would put it off for. In an empty prison, from the absence of any sounds from around her, surely they didn’t keep prisoners there forever. She didn’t dwell too long on what could be coming, turning instead to distract herself with stretching and training.

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