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What injury? …Oh.
I reached for my throat. Blood was trickling from the slice no one had bothered to treat.
I nodded dumbly, and the angel helped lower me back to the floor.
It was then that I finally registered that we were in a cage-like cell. Three of the four walls were made of some white, smooth stone that was like marble, except for that pulsing glow that emanated from it every few seconds, going from blue or green to red or black. The other wall was made of metal bars that ran both vertically and horizontally, and was clearly the only way in and out of the cell; even from this distance, I could feel the electricity humming along the metal. I knew I'd be electrocuted—or at least zapped in warning—if I even thought of getting close to it.
“I’m Neo Griffith,” the angel introduced himself conversationally, sinking to the floor opposite me. “The entire thing is spelled. These bad boys—” Here, he knocked on the white wall behind him, “—absorb magical energy and drain us. Your wounds won’t heal, your magic won’t replenish, and your shifts won’t be full.”
Then, he gestured to his wings. “But if you’re thrown in here while you’re shifted, you’re stuck this way indefinitely.”
Finally, he pointed to the metal bars of the cell. “Thatis equipped with enough electricity to stun a demon. Imagine what it could do to a little wolf like you.”
I didn’t want to do that, so I just looked away from them.
“You’re Aria, right?” he continued.
My head snapped up, only to find that he wasn’t even looking at me, but at the back wall. When I opened my mouth to reply, his entire body shuddered—for a split second, I got a glimpse of something else, dark and ominous.
My mouth snapped shut immediately.
“Everyone was talking about you two,” he said, turning back to me as the same beautiful angel I’d initially met. Maybe I was more exhausted than I thought, if I was hallucinating now. “You and Azazel’s son—Sariel, right? They said you were soulmates?”
I blinked dumbly at him before I found my voice. “They’re talking about us?”
Neo laughed. “Yes, they are. You’re the newest drama in the supernatural community since that demon-possessed human ‘discovered’ the Americas in 1492.”
“Columbus?” I asked with a frown.
Neo nodded. “We haven’t had such a publicized scandal since, just minor ones that weren’t nearly as big as this. Fated matesandhalf-bloods? The Upper Council is in shambles right now.”
I gulped. “Where are we?”
His brows furrowed. “The main Isolation Center in America. Some call it Council Hall, and others call it Hell.”
I froze. “The Upper Council found us?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Paras threw you in here, unconscious and half-healed, around sunset yesterday. So, yeah, I think it’s safe to assume that they found you.”
My heart began to pound. I vaguely remembered hearing a witch, the one who’d clearly been in charge of the people who’d broken in, saying something about the Upper Council. I’d already been half out-of-it at the time, so I hadn’t heard clearly.
I didn’t know what a ‘Para’ was, but I’d heard of Isolation Centers; they were prisons for supernaturals. I’d never actually been in one or even seen one from the outside, since they didn’t even have pictures on search engines due to no one being allowed close enough near them. Even prisoners or reformed supernaturals had no recollection of how they’d gotten to or from the Centers.
This was bad.
“What about Sariel?” I asked. “Did you see him? Have you heard anything about him?”
Neo’s expression grew pensive. “Not really. I haven’t heard anything since the door opened and they tossed you in. I can hear a little, but once it’s closed, everything is sealed in or out.”
I observed him with a critical eye. “And why is an angel with white wings in an Isolation Center, Neo?”
His smile was tight. “I’ve been accused of high treason against the Upper Council.”
“High treason?” I repeated. My eyebrows hit my hairline, the action making more blood trickle from the wound at my throat. It was going to scar—I could tell that much.
“I started asking questions about Azazel Ambrose’s seat on the Council despite his fallen status. I mean, seriously, how did he gain the favor of the Grigori?”
A valid question, and asked with good reason. Knowing what I did now, I might’ve asked the same question, had I been in his shoes. “And they put you in jail for that?”
