Who is Magpie?
Chapter 21- Hard Truths

Ezekiel had left the medical bay feeling lost for the first time as an Alpha. Wandering up to his room, he did the only thing he could think to do when he needed a wise opinion. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called the previous Alpha, his father.

“Son.” The old man answered. “I’ve been waiting for your call. I’ve already heard from your Beta, Bronx, there was an attempt on your life last night?”

“Alpha Tidas.” Ezekiel returned, and his father instantly felt the seriousness of the conversation.

“Yes Alpha. How can I help you?” His father waited worriedly, it wasn’t like him to be this rattled.

“I’m sure Bronx had told you that a female snuck inside last night. We still do not know how, but we know she was sent to kill me. I denied her an honourable death, and she is currently in the cells…. I have a strong reason to believe she tried to kill me through use of the Mensdillia flower..” Ezekiel tried to cut it short, hoping this would be the last time he said all this but knowing he would still need to have a council meeting.

“The Mensdillia flower? Well to have such an affect…. Well she would have needed to ingest a large dose to be susceptible to such an order…” His dad began, getting ahead of the recap.

“Or have been on it everyday for years.” Ezekiel finished, his dad gasping on the other side.

“Barbaric.” His dad muttered, but Ezekiel interrupted, needing to get it all out before the conversation got sidelined into hating the Fae.

“Doctor Pon thinks the withdrawals will kill her before she even sees a trial….”

“Well, that’s unfortunate but…”

“She’s my mate dad.” Ezekiel’s voice nearly broke at admitting the word.

He waited for his dad’s reply, unsure of what to expect or even hope for, but then he heard his mother in the background, intangibly yelling about something and his dad agreeing twice.

“We’re on our way.” Tidas said clearly. “We will be leaving shortly with your grandmother and be there as soon as we can.”

-

“Sorry for the delay, the kitchen is a little behind today.” A young boy accompanied by a guard greeted Magpie as he approached the cell.

Magpie was doing hand stand push ups as he approached, having previously been trying to teach herself how to do a backflip off the cot with the cushioned floor and swapped activities so she wouldn’t look a fool. She didn’t stop as the approach, still internally needing to reach at least ten before she could stop.

“I didn’t expect to get a meal at all.” She said, counting seven in her head. “So stale bread and cheese would have been a surprise.”

The boy looked aghast. “No bacon? That would be beyond a cruel punishment.”

“I’ve been given much worse for far less than attempted murder.” She stepped down and didn’t move toward the bars. “You can slide it under. I won’t approach.” She said in a tone she thought was gentle, because she realized the boy was younger than her, but really it was just bland. When the boy didn’t move she sat on the floor and began to stretch her legs to regain blood flow from being upside down. “Or don’t, like I said I didn’t expect food.”

The guard nudge the boy forward who slid the plate through the space on the floor. “The plate is safety glass, if you try to break it for anything destructive it will just shatter to dust.” The guard muttered as he backed away.

“Clever, you must know all about the dangers of paper plates.” She muttered, eyeing the food as she ran her knuckles down the stiff area of her leg.

“What?” The boy asked, almost amused with curiosity.

“Oh, do you not have paper shanks 101 here?” She asked looking up hopefully to their reaction only to be disappointed. “Kay would have laughed.” She missed Kay already.

“Oh ya, haha, good one.” The boy mused, being led away by the guard already.

She had to give the boy a little respect for at least trying to humour her, but no one understood her like Kay. She pulled the plate off the floor and set it on the cot, picking at it as she realized they had, wisely, chosen foods that didn’t need utensils. She munched the toast almost greedily like she expected them to take it away, not even looking up as a new set of footsteps entered the room.

“Glad to see you’re eating. Reggie thought you would assume it was poison with the straight face you gave.” Bronx jested, leaning against the wall where the bars would connect.

“I would welcome a poisoned meal over waiting for my execution.” She muttered, recognizing the speaker and not looking up. “This is just my face.”

He eyed her up and down as she bit a piece of bacon. “What did you do to him?”

She looked at him now, squinting half of her face up as the bright light from behind him caught her eye. “Your Alpha? Unfortunately not what I was sent to.”

“Come on!” He yelled, striking the bars with his hands and making them rattle loudly, but Magpie didn’t flinch. “Why does he care? Anyone else who begged for death would be dead. Why is he keeping you alive.”

She shrugged. “That’s a very good question,- that you should ask your Alpha yourself. You saw my entire bag, if you found my shoes you have everything I had on me when I was dropped off. I don’t know why he refused me death, even if you set me loose in the streets right now I would not be welcomed back.”

He looked confused. “…There’s no way they believed you could succeed and get out with what you had. Not in a house full of wolven.”

Magpie felt that gag in her soul again, but it was looser now, with that word ‘if’ no longer bouncing around. “I don’t believe they did.” She finally admitted out loud and to herself.

Bronx stood looking at her, her lack of emotions, her apathy toward it all. She continue to munch on a piece of toast while she rubbed one of her ankles with her other hand. It looked swollen, and he wondered how she had done that, but she was grateful he hadn’t seen her foot slip between two mattresses while attempting a backflip and landing on the hard concrete. A bit of jam slid off the toast and landed on the breast of her shirt.

“Oh shit.” She commented lowly, pulling it out to lick it off. “Wait!” There was a slight gleam in her eye when she looked back to Bronx. “Can I have my other shirt?” She asked, and he looked at her somewhat confused, mostly due to her apparent excitement. “I’ll trade you for this one if you want to keep ‘evidence’ the same or whatever. They’re the same shirt, this one will just have a small jam stain.”

He looked more confused as he reached for her bag still left on the table. “Yea, sure…”

She caught it easily in her hand, turning her back to him and pulling off the old shirt. She still had on a sports bra, and didn’t really care if he saw that, but with all the upside down things she had been doing she wasn’t sure where her girls had ended up within it.

Bronx barely stifled the gasp of horror to see the scars that covered her back. He didn’t believe these were injuries that happened in the field, all of them being hidden by a humble T-shirt required planning.

“Is that what you meant by not being welcomed home.” Bronx asked, feeling somewhat angry on her behalf despite everything.

She looked over her shoulder, feeling déjà vu as she traced his sight to her back. “What? Oh, yea.” She pulled her new shirt on, trying to ignore the look he gave her. “I was a slow study.”

She assumed that would result in understanding in him, like it had to every other person who had seen them in the Garden, but when she turned she saw… pitty. She hated that look and tossed her shirt at the bars towards him. It obviously didn’t hit him, hitting the bars and falling to the floor but he flinched anyway.

He looked at her as she adjusted the shirt around her hips, her expression firm.

‘She doesn’t need my pitty,’ he thought suddenly. ‘She doesn’t even care if I understand.’

She stared incredulously back at him as he looked wonderingly at her. He didn’t think she acted like someone who had just tried to murder someone, her light brown hair was wrapped into a bun on the back of her head, but strands were falling out around her face. Her skin wasn’t really pale or tan, probably appearing smack in the middle of the foundation colours, and her eyes nearly matched her hair but they seemed muted. Her lip colour was probably the only thing about her that popped being quite pink compared to the rest of her. She looked too thin, like she had missed a step after a growth spurt when she was meant to fill out again.

“Take a picture.” She muttered, turning away from him and moving toward the area of the floor that wasn’t padded.

She needed a distraction and with not much to distract her, and the company questionable, she return to working out. Lowering into a knuckle-pushup she began to count in her head again. She got four out before Bronx decided to leave, and when he turned she decided to clap. He spun around quickly at the sound, slightly impressed when he realized what it was she was doing, and then continued on his way.

“Just the flashlight.” She said, just as his hand moved to turn the door handle.

He looked back to where she continued her clapping pushups. “What?”

“The flashlight, the only item I overpacked. Bit of a bonehead move to be honest. You can all see in the dark… though maybe it could have served as a distraction, or forced dilation temporary blindness…. Still, I think I would have failed even if I had brought more.”

“What about a gun?” Bronx offered, not sure why he bothered, but Magpie had already considered that.

“I don’t own any, and I wasn’t given time to check out any materials, even if the cost would have been worth it.” She had completed fifteen push ups and sat up to do V-sits.

“It must be pretty expensive to bring a couple of knives to a wolf fight over a gun.” Bronx couldn’t believe he was trying to rationalize better ways to kill his Alpha with his would be killer, but he wanted desperately to get some kind of understanding.

“Not money.” Was all she said to stop Bronx in his curiosity.

Magpie heard the door to the stairs close before she heard it open, and she was alone again. She nearly wished that she had stayed alone so she would have nothing to miss, but she would never wish not getting to know Kay. With her privacy again she returned to trying her backflip, suddenly wishing she had packed some Sanaberry gel.

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