Muse Paisley

I stared at the holding cells.

Holbrook was allowed to leave, and Zander took her to the firing range, where she practiced her aim.

An odd perk for a prisoner. If she isn't officially being held, why is she there?

An armed guard stood at her side, but it appeared she was observing the surrounding prisoners and waiting. She sang quietly to herself.

An hour later, she entered the cell she shared with Mason and her father and fell asleep.

"Mason, wake up!" Zander yelled through the bars.

Holbrook draped the blanket over her head and fell back asleep.

Mason's eyelids shot open, and he bolted from his mattress, tossing the soft blanket into the corner. He couldn't tell it was hours before dawn because he was locked in a spaceship, but his body could.

"What info do you want?"

"Finding out what happened to Quin Salamander is your job. Your mom wants to protect you, but this protection has a price." Zander slipped him a letter about what Shanna had said to him through the bars.

"How does my mother know you?" Mason asked.

"Do what I say!"

"If you want my assistance, I need better accommodations. And maybe a cup of hot chocolate.  There isn't any evidence other than Shanna's voice." Mason sat down on his thin mattress in the cell and switched on a small TV bolted to the corner bars.

"Fine, be a jerk." Zander folded his arms. 

Mason dropped the paper, turned on an educational streaming channel, and selected Shanna's children's program. She was a doe-eyed, fairy-like princess. Blue Jays danced around her, and her voice was high.

She sang the Happy Cleanup Song.

"Deb-Dagger and Shanna are not the same. Most people can't tell the difference, but Shanna has a careful pause. She rarely breaks character and wouldn't sully her show."

"Hello, boys and... girls," Shanna said.

"Okay, it's not Shanna, but I was positive. Before Vash died, Shanna's voice was rather husky."

Mason switched off the TV. "We'll talk when you decide to treat me as your equal. Could you get me an interview with Stew Gray-Bolt, the dragon commander? He's still a suspect."

"Stew and I could arrange something." Zander made a phone call.

A massive dragon's green face appeared on the screen. "Hey, Zander. What do you need?"

"Mason has questions about Quin."

"Not another armchair, detective." Steam came from Stew's angry snout. "Agent Rock-Heart cleared me."

"This isn't directly related. We all know you hated Mrs. Salamander. Your granddaughter is a holographic AI programmer, right? And your military degree was programming drones."

"I've given up tech and full command to run a useful store. Besides, my granddaughter isn't a cultist, and I'm too busy. Programming is only my little princess's hobby. She works for a resort. But Deb-Ann-Dagger isn't a true learning AI. She is more like an animated VTuber. Someone has to be speaking through her off-site. They could be thousands of miles away, but the hologram might be run by more than one person."

Mason and the commander said goodbye and hung up.

Zander left as a guard came to collect chamber pots behind a flimsy curtain.

An unmasked guard yelled in another cell. "If you toss a pot at me again, I won't hesitate to throw you into space."

Holbrook awoke, and she sang a folk song as she cleaned. Mason joined in. She appeared to be in her early twenties, muscular, and an inch or two taller than Mason.

I fell out of my chair, turned off the microphone, and attempted to prevent Mason from reading my thoughts.

I never understood what curse he was talking about, but the notes vaguely mentioned a childhood incident. How could hearing your Muse's thoughts be a curse? Unless all you receive is bad news and think your Muse hates you. Mason would be depressing to be around if he wasn't always singing. I'll admit that his voice is charming. When he wasn't trying to stay alive, he filed paperwork, watched musicals, trained, or wrote plays. Watching a person write or lift weights is mind-numbing.

Mason didn't look up and ignored me.

A masked man led Holbrook out. She came back in a clean uniform. An enchanting aroma of her washed hair brightened the gloomy cell. He grinned, and his freckled tail wagged.

General Allen awoke. He chatted with Mason about nothing interesting, so I glanced over at my notes and the piles of yellow notebook paper in my little studio booth as the immersive screen showed their lives.

The aromas lifted into my nose. Mason's death wasn't what I longed for, but that was fate, wasn't it? I should forget my assumptions.

He moved closer to Holbrook.

No, Mason wasn't supposed to be attracted to her. I planned for her to end up with Zander. Why is Mason making things difficult for me? Surprises repulse me.

An unmasked guard tossed ration bars, seeded honey bread, sausage, and hard cheese at Holbrook. He left.

"Zander wanted to feed us tasty grub, but he is not well." She prepared sandwiches and formed the ration bars into fudge cakes.

"Awe, thank you. My name is Mason. What's yours?" He took the food and nibbled on it.

"I'll give you my name if you prove to be friendly. Like you, we're in protective custody."

General Allen nodded and ate. "Mason, this is my daughter. She is suspicious of anyone assigned to The Flying Clutch." Allen leaned in and whispered into Mason's ear in his native language. "If Zander shoots me, don't interfere." Allen pulled away.

Mason nodded. He covered his birthmarks with his other hand and rolled down his sleeve to hide them.

"My birth name is Holbrook-Arizona Allen, but my friends call me Holbrook." She pulled her pink hair into a bun. Was she flirting? No, this isn't good. I wish I could dive into her mind.

"Could I be your friend?" Mason asked.

"Are you sure you'd want to?" Holbrook touched Mason's arm for a split second. "My Birth Father is Tolbert Allen, but I haven't seen him since I was three...." she paused. "Dad is my birth father's brother, and he adopted me. I'll never call Tolbert my father."

"I should've known this had to do with Tolbert. He's trying to kill me." Mason stretched, but he couldn't stand upright in the cell. His fingers brushed the glowing metal, and they stung.

"I'm not a prisoner or traitor." Holbrook folded her arms and glared at a masked guard.

"You lie to yourself," he laughed and walked off.

Holbrook and Mason entertained themselves by singing every part of a song called Moonlight is Over.

Other prisoners sat as close as they could in their cells to enjoy the free entertainment. A few clapped.

"How did you know my song? The Flying Clutch ship's entertainment crew refused to perform my play. The Mystery of Dracula's Dawn."

"Oh, you're May-Sun Even-Core. Is that a pen name? I thought that you'd be older. Did you graduate early, like I did?"

"My fairy name is mixed with my brother's last name," Mason said.

"Oh, I didn't realize that the playwright is Agent Lace's son. She always told us you were a temp. My dad's crew are fans of musical theater, and the rights were reasonable for a play of that quality. I played Lucy. I also played the lead in your jukebox musical, Among the Stars."

"If my mom's an agent that explains her behavior," Mason said. He didn't answer her pen question.

"Agent Lace is the second in charge of this operation," General Allen said.

"So, am I my mom's prisoner?" Mason grimaced.

"Yes, Mason, you kind of are. She is Zander's and my boss, but unlike Mr. Phall, she is a medic, which was why Agent Rock-Heart and my dad hired her," Holbrook said. "Oh, I forgot to tell you your mom isn't only an agent, but she had a small part in the play as the nurse."

Mason blushed because he was as much a man as a fairy wolf. His tail wagged. "Did someone record the play?" Mason spelled his first and last name with his fingers on her hand.

"Dad didn't pay for the rights, but there is a copy for private viewing." Holbrook grinned.

"I'd love to see it with you over dinner." Mason scooted even closer to her.

"Stop flirting with her," I said to him directly.

He grinned to himself.

A siren woman entered the cell in chains. The surrounding men, including the guards, stared at her. Sweat dripped from their faces. The buxom fairy's butterfly wings fluttered with each step. A number was sewn into her prison-issued uniform. Five male prisoners entered behind her. I was not given her name because she was attractive but an unimportant petty thief. At least, it was what my notes informed me, but everything turned out wrong.

The siren's wings twitched. "I heard you singing when I was inside my cell. Your voice is lovely." A grin spread across her scarlet lips. "You're muscular and hideous. Losers only like you because you sing."

"Female prisoners should not be allowed in with males," the general said.

"Yes, but you and your daughter are..." she paused. "Oh, wait, you are agents. Protective custody should be a hotel, not a dumpy space prison." The siren's mouth lifted in a smirk.

A few of the other prisoners grunted in agreement.

"Yank Holbrook's hair." The siren's wings lifted her an inch off the ground.

Two men from the group of five new male prisoners broke strands off. I felt bad for her, but I couldn't interfere. For the first time, I wanted to.

"What evil did Holbrook do to you?" another prisoner asked.

The siren knocked her elbow into Holbrook. "She's an agent."

"Keep your hands off my daughter." General Allen tried to reach Holbrook, but his chains prevented him.

"Smack her," the siren said. "She is ugly and worthless."

"Stop saying that... Please, leave me alone." Holbrook cupped her ear.

The same two men struck her legs.

She kicked them off of her. Tears stung Holbrook's eyes, and her face stiffened. "I won't..." she paused.

A man attempted to strike Holbrook in the face.

Mason slipped between them. "Don't touch her!" His voice became lower, and growls burst through. He bared fangs.

Holbrook stepped in front of Mason and flung the man into her other attacker.

The siren lunged at her, and Holbrook yanked the woman's hair and tossed her into the electrified bars. "Never do that again."

"But I'm prettier than you," the siren said.

"Girl, I weigh more." Holbrook grabbed the woman by the wing. "I don't need a laser gun to beat someone with noodle arms. Not eating doesn't replace working out."

"But I saw a movie where a tiny woman beats up a bunch of stripling warriors," the woman said.

"It's fiction. I've trained since I was sixteen. Girl, I have thirty pounds of solid muscle on you." Holbrook stepped away from her and pulled out her weapon. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you. My laser gun hurts a lot worse than those bars."