The Raven Conspiracy

Chapter 20 - Art Imprisoned

I'm dedicating this chapter to my good friend Angel. Happy (belated) Birthday to Kairo's greatest fangirl :)

Chapter 20 – Art Imprisoned

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the holding cells. You can wait there for Detective Hallow to pick you up, missy.”

“Holding cells? You’re putting me in a prison?”

The creepy men exchanged a look.

“We’re putting you in detention for now. Where you can be of no harm to others.”

I dragged my heels into the floor, trying to slow down.

“There’s a massive misunderstanding here. Let me just – “

“Shut it!”

One of them yanked my arm until I cried out in pain.

“This is illegal! I’m sure of it. You can’t just put innocent people in – “

I was cut off by a violent shove that made me trip over and fall. My elbows jarred from the impact and my palms stung from slamming into the marble.

“I said shut it, girl.”

They yanked me into a standing position and half-yanked, half-shoved me the rest of the way.

A thick, metal door with an electronic lock and millions of intricate symbols carved into it led to the holding cells. Behind the door was a small, dark room with concrete walls. An empty desk stood in the middle. There was another metal door – the same grey as the rest of the room – set into the back wall. One of the men unlocked the door while the others shoved me in and slammed the door shut.

“You can’t do this! I swear, I will get my parents to bring their lawyer – “

“If Art knew that inferior beings were so noisy, Art would have never left the compound. Art hope it shuts up soon,” drawled a voice behind me.

I whirled around to see a young man, around my age, with almost-white hair sitting on the concrete bench. His expensive-looking shirt was streaked with blood.

“Excuse me? It?” I shouted, incredulous.

“It’s attempting to talk to Art now. It’s good that Art does not respond to inferior beings.”

“Great,” I thought. “I’m stuck with another crazy being...One that refers to himself in the third person.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to talk to you if you’re so weird!” I muttered to myself. I sat cross-legged on the ground, propping my chin on my palm and resting my elbow on my knee. He smelt strange; a mixture of cinnamon cologne and blood. Although I stared quite openly at him, he kept his head turned to the side as he muttered to himself.

“What are you, oh superior being?” I asked glumly. I had no idea how long it would take for Kairo to realise that I was missing and track me down. There was no harm – I hoped – in getting to know my cellmate.

That got him to look at me. The tilt of his head, the down-curving of his lips and the expression in his eyes all spoke of utter disdain. It struck me that he believed that he was, in fact, a superior being of some sort.

“It speaks to Art.”

Somehow, I knew that it was the closest I would get to a proper reply.

“So your name is Art?”

His mouth curled into a smirk,

“Art is not a name, but a state of being.”

I frowned,