The Mark of Thorn: Book of Scars

Chapter Four

It was dark inside the jail. The timid moon was hiding behind rain clouds and the only lantern was resting with the watchman beyond the bars, but to at least two of the prisoners, the darkness was not a problem. Gabriel used sensitive fingers to search the walls for imperfections and weaknesses. Diego's shining eyes passed through the dimness easily, letting him see clearly into the rest of the jailhouse in search of any detail that might be useful to them. All the while, the demi-human kept a keen eye on the negligent jailer, and he was to alert the others with a cough if the watchman moved. The man who called himself Hendrik worked quietly in his own cell, looking for anything that might urge him toward an idea.

For nearly an hour, they all worked carefully but diligently, and when that time was up, they came together where the bars met against the back wall to hold council over what they'd found.

"Nothing," Gabriel said. "The place is old, but seems solid."

"Same," Hendrik's deep voice informed them. "But these bars aren't much. I think I could bend them."

If Gabriel could have stared at the man in disbelief, he would have—just as Diego was doing.

"Bend these bars?" the feline questioned. "You mean you could actually do that?"

A man that could bend sturdy iron bars was someone Diego was glad had not caught up with him on that street. Though, once they were out of here, he was sure to find out what the stalking had been about, and now he had something new to be wary of.

The tall man seemed to sense this unease. He seemed to enjoy it.

"Not enough that it would help me get out," Hendrik said, an arrogant smile playing across his lips. "So I see little good that it would do."

Diego focused on the large man, staring hard at him. Who was he? Though of course, he could not ask now, just after he'd said that he didn't care for the moment. There was undoubtedly something odd about that man's eyes—that light brown with shining flecks of green. Something familiar? No; it was something else.

"How about you, Diego? Did you find anything?"

Gabriel had broken in with these words, unaware of the silent confrontation. Diego immediately thought better of the stare-down and shook himself free. He cast his hand into his pocket and carefully fished out his spoil.

"Possibly our only hope, mon ami," he said. "Rat bones. They're somewhat brittle, but it's possible that I could pick the lock with them. They may be our only means of escape. We have, however, other obstacles."

After he'd said this, Diego began to step toward the bars that lined the front of the cell. Gabriel followed his sound while Hendrik followed his movement. They stopped just in front of the bars, side by side, even though metal obstructions separated Hendrik from the others. If indeed one problem had been solved with the find of the rat bones, then their next hindrance was sitting in a chair nearby.

"If we could get him to come close enough, I could snap his neck," Hendrik said after a moment of silence, a seemingly anxious growl in his voice.

Diego peered past Gabriel to give the taller man a questioning look.

"Then that will truly make us murderers, won't it," the demi-human said with some degree of aversion.

"It's not as if we will get away from here without being marked as criminals," injected Gabriel with very little emotion concerning either choice. "We will still be murderers to the eyes of the world."

If the watchman heard them talking, or knew that they were lined against the bars staring at him, he did not show it. The man sat with his back to them, looking over Diego's pistol.