I turned in Connor’s grasp making his hands fall away so I could give him a loose side hug. “Thanks, Connor. You’re a good friend.”
I peeled myself away, and juggled my bag as I pulled my keys out of my pocket. When I found them, I glanced over at Connor—who had gone strangely quiet.
He was watching me with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.
“You okay?” I asked.
Connor smiled wildly. “Oh, I’m more than okay. I’m splendid.”
Despite riding high on my interaction with Shelby, my encounter with Gisila when my team had followed the overstimulated werewolves bothered me. So two days later, I waited outside the office the Curia Cloisters had converted into a holding cell of sorts for Orrin.
The Curia Cloisters didn’t usually “hold” criminals. Punishment was usually doled out immediately and violently among supernaturals. There was one supernatural prison, Ghast. But truthfully, Orrin hadn’t done enough damage to warrant being sent there. （No humans had been injured in his attacks and despite how much we suspected Tutu’s was the target, we still didn’t have proof.）
Gisila had already renounced him, so he was jobless. When Captain Reese had contacted the fae Court he was allied with, they’d disowned him—so his future was in shambles.
The real problem was that his creatures had done some pretty significant damage to public property—mostly streets—and a couple cars. This meant the humans were involved, so the upper echelon was trying to figure out a proper punishment that could actually be communicated to the mayor’s office. （So far there had been talks of a huge fine that would be passed on to his children and children’s children but that had raised a few human eyebrows, so the idea had been temporarily sidelined.）
“Captain Reese called ahead to say you were coming and that you had permission to enter. Are you sure you want to talk to him?” The werewolf guard asked—I recognized her as a member of the daytime squad. “He hasn’t said a word to anyone. That geas of his is strong.”
The reason why I was suspicious of Gisila, but had no proof, was because Orrin had been put under a geas—a powerful magic that outlined a contract, which we knew nothing about because a common clause in a geas is magically-induced silence.
Even if Orrin wanted to talk to us—which he didn’t—he wouldn’t be able to speak about the contents of his geas.
“Yes.” I checked to make sure my slayer mask was secured. “I have a few questions, and I’d rather try than assume.”
The werewolf shrugged; her powerful biceps accented by the tight sleeve of her uniform. “You’re approved to visit by Captain Reese, so it’s your time you’re wasting.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside so I could enter.
I took a deep breath. This is probably not going to be worth it… but I can’t just sit and wait for Gisila to strike.
With that thought to urge me on, I slipped into Orrin’s holding room, and the werewolf closed the door behind me.
The office—which was conveniently attached to the werewolf/shifter department, so no fae could reach Orrin to help/sabotage him—was a plain eggshell white color, but if you looked closely you could see patched spots in the wall. （Werewolves and their supernatural strength could be rather hard on buildings.）
A cot was positioned on the far side of the wall with meticulously folded blankets.
Orrin was seated on a solid wooden chair—werewolves had the best made furniture in the building out of necessity—holding a to-go paper coffee cup of steaming water, which he had apparently made with the coffee machine that was plugged into the wall.
“Hello, Orrin.”
Orrin looked up from his hot water. “Ah, the vampire slayer who fights back-to-back with vampires.” He then rapidly blinked —I think he was upset with himself for talking, but I find fae really hard to read compared to other supernaturals.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s necessary for good teamwork.” I paused, considering if he’d heard of Considine/Ruin and I teaming up to defeat his snake monster. “And to minimize damage.”
Orrin stared at me, then took a long sip of his hot water. His gold hair was tidy, but he didn’t seem as sparkly and eye catching as usual.
I saw a flash of metal around his wrists—he was wearing magic-canceling cuffs as a precaution—and he was in the same clothes I’d arrested him in. It seemed that was by choice as there was a set of sweatpants and a t-shirt that had the logo of a werewolf-owned gym printed on the chest folded up and placed on the cot with his blankets.