Mala cranked up the dial on the air-conditioning, sighing in relief as the cool air cut through the heat.
"Thanks."
She turned around to nod at Cameron then leaned back against the car seat, closing her eyes with a sigh.
The novelty of travelling over to the other side of the city was waning away, the landscape of tall buildings, trees and more buildings becoming somewhat of a bore to look at. It was nothing that she hadn't seen before.
Her father had been driving for about fifty minutes and she was reaching the stage where the small automobile was starting to feel claustrophobic. It was one of those ingrained instincts, the wolf in her that felt more comfortable when she wasn't trapped in a moving hunk of metal.
It wanted out.
She knew that her father was feeling the same way, his hands gripping the steering wheel with so much force that his knuckles were a stark white, however the both of them recognised that driving around for long periods came with the territory.
It wasn't unbearable, just uncomfortable enough to set her on edge until the vehicle came to a stop and she was able to swing open the door and climb out.
She stretched her hands over her head and groaned loudly, pushing away the stress of the journey and looming bad mood that threatened to overtake her.
The door behind her opened and shut and Cameron came to stand beside her, looking down the pebbled pathway with a whistle of appreciation. She could second that motion.
Irongate was massive.
She almost wished that her eyes had been open as they drove up, knowing the scene would have looked like something out of a movie.
Never mind the actual building, they had parked at the bottom of a subtle incline surrounded by lush, perfectly manicured grass. The grass was so green that it looked fake, the sound of the sprinklers triggering a childhood memory of Mala playing in the garden as a wolf, rolling underneath the sprinklers as her parents watched in amusement.
The hedges and trees were trimmed neatly into shapes, giving the impression that whoever was in charge of the landscaping had plenty of money to spend.
The contrast between the landscape and the actual penitentiary was almost comical. Looking at the former, it wouldn't be strange to assume that they were visiting some wealthy man's Victorian manor, yet there was no getting past the overwhelming grey structure beyond that.
Mala was hardwired to pay attention to nature before anything else. It may have been a wolf thing, or it may have just been a Malandra thing, but unlike Cameron, the first thing she noticed hadn't been the giant industrial strength fence surrounding the perimeter of the prison, or the lack of windows and blacked out door, it had been the pebbles and the shrubbery and the quiet stillness that told her the city was miles off.
"Where the hell is Bateman?" She mumbled to nobody in particular.
"I swear he left before us," Cameron folded his arms, shifting his weight to one side.
"He'll be here soon." She felt her dad walk to the other side of her and look at his watch, "we're ten minutes early."
The sun was reaching its highest point in the sky so Mala slipped on her sunglasses, adjusting her fitted dress against her skin. She would have liked to be wearing something a bit less formal and a bit more summery, however she was still technically on the job; she was just glad she hadn't been forced to wear her regular uniform. She felt bad for Cameron who was in a long sleeved shirt and trousers, she knew the poor guy was sweating up a storm.
"Right, I'm waiting in the car." He unclasped the first two buttons of his shirt and sighed, "can I have the keys, Mr Bates?"
Mala's dad tossed the keys over and he managed to grab them midway, his feet crunching against gravel sounding out as he walked over to the driver's seat and once again made quick use of the air-conditioning.
Mala turned to her father. He was as tall as she was, which didn't amount to much, and about six stone heavier, fine taupe hair flattened against his hair with perspiration.
"Do you know the order of the day?" She asked, hoping that Bateman arrived soon.
Now that she was on the property, she could feel her excitement slowly coming back- although this time, it was tinged with the stain of apprehension.
What they were doing was a big thing.
She didn't know of anyone else who had been given the chance to visit Irongate as part of their internship.
"I know about as much as you. You'll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement, be toured around and ask some questions."
Her apprehension grew.
In actuality, she had pushed that last part out of her mind. She didn't have much of a framework to compare the inmates against, so she didn't know what to expect from people who were rumoured to be not only mentally and criminally insane but feral too.
Asking them questions?
She had never met a feral shifter before.
Would they even be able to give her a straight answer?
She also didn't understand how they were going to stretch those few things over the three days of their visit. The prison was big, but there were so little prisoners that she wondered how much there could really be to see.
"Sounds simple enough," was what she said instead of voicing her concerns.
"Bateman is here," her father suddenly announced.
Mala heard the car before she saw it and knocked on the car window, motioning for Cameron to come out.
A brand new Mercedes pulled up on the gravel next to them and Bateman stepped out, sunglasses perched on top of his white haired mane. He nodded at the three and then started walking to the doors of the prison without another word.
They walked in silence, pebbles clattering against the bottom of their shoes as they started on the incline.
After flashing their identification two times, they finally made it to the lobby, the freezing indoor air a massive respite from the outside heat.
While Bateman spoke to the lady in the lobby who had come to meet them, Mala looked around, taking in the dreary interior and stark artificial light.
As they walked through the hallway to another room, she put herself in an inmate's shoes, imagining being handcuffed and escorted through the front entrance- the feeling of resignation as they were escorted from the serene landscaped garden to their new lifeless abode, not a single window in sight.
Given one last glimpse of beauty before it was stripped away from them, replaced with grey wall and dull floor.
She couldn't decide whether it was a cruel or generous gesture on the part of the prison.
Before she knew it, she was sat at a long table listening to the lady talk about the non-disclosure form while placing a slip of paper in front of her.
"The agreement states that any no sensitive material you see or hear in Irongate Penitentiary, including the layout or information about the prisoners or workers, can be transferred to any other party other than those in this room or in the prison. No reproducing of any files you are given, no speaking to the media about this visit, etc." She took a breath and slapped a couple of pens on the table, "I think you get the picture. Obviously, if we find out that the agreement has been broken, you will be taken to court and prosecuted."
Mala saw Cameron nod on the other side of the table and looked over to see her dad scribbling his signature on the dotted line.
Picking up her own pen, she signed and dated the form, writing her name and details in the required spaces before handing it back over to the human woman.
So far, the prison had smelt overwhelmingly like wolf and at first Mala thought nothing of it. But the longer she was exposed to it, the more the scent smelled off. It was only when they passed through another room on the way out of the office that she noticed the shelves full of masking spray.
It made sense.
The guards at the gate had been human, the lady who had escorted them from the lobby was human, and the warden of the penitentiary, who they were walking towards, was human too. Mala grasped that most of the prison workers must have been humans who were masking their scents with expensive, shifter-scented sprays in order to pacify the feral inmates.
If only they knew that it was impossible to perfectly replicate scents. Every shifter's scent was utterly unique, the note of their animal counterpart so intricately woven in between the seams that any shifter with half a mind would eventually be able to tell the real from the fake.
The warden's scent was unabashedly human, and he smelt like old man soap, so Mala guessed that he didn't have that much interaction with his prisoners.
The elderly gentlemen shook their hands one by one, "Harris Wellington." He introduced himself.
"Alek Bates."
"Malandra Bates."
"Cameron Peterkin, but you can just call me Cameron."
Malandra swore she saw the semblance of a smile tug at the corner of Wellington's mouth but she couldn't decipher it through all of the wrinkles.
He turned to Bateman and nodded, obviously having spoken with him about their visit previously, then gestured for them to follow him, walking into a room just down the hall.
Wellington was clearly a fan of nature.
His room had an impressive view over another portion of the expansive garden, the large open window, situated behind his desk, allowing warmth and light to flood into the room.
Mala noted that it was the first window she had seen since she stepped inside and didn't blame him for wanting a bit of normalcy in his office.
The rest of the office was pretty plain but she did notice a few paintings hanging around and a picture frame propped up on the desk.
"Please take a seat."
Wellington walked to the side of the room and fiddled with something in front of him, the sound of ripping plastic emanating from the area. When he turned around, he passed them each a bottle of water, dismissing their murmurs of gratitude with the wave of his hand.
"I founded this penitentiary over sixty years ago," he began, adjusting one of the ornaments on his desk. "My father was an attorney in his former years and later went on to be the senior deputy at Roscow Correctional Facility, and as a result of that, each of my six brothers went into law enforcement, I being the youngest. It was always my dream to manage my own facility but I could have never imagined that Irongate would reach such renown in my lifetime."
Wellington paused and looked over everyone sat in his office, a sombre expression on his face.
"As soon as my mother was allowed to work, she went into mental health, and as such, I understand the sensitive nature of the inmates at this facility. I can promise you that everything will be done to assure your safety so you have nothing to worry about while in my penitentiary."
He stood up and nodded at Bateman, "thank you for coming. Tomorrow I'll have some of my men show you around."
Bateman stood up and clasped the older man's hand, "thank you. We'll see you then."
Mala felt rather disappointed.
She hadn't expected to trek all the way out to the facility, only to sign some papers then be kicked out until the following day. She was ready to explore the place, find out if the things she had heard about Irongate amounted to something more than petty rumours. She wanted to know what it took to run such a place. She wanted to know what types of crimes you had to commit to even be admitted in.
They left the room, the original lady from the lobby appearing in the doorway to direct them back to the entrance. She stayed a few steps in front of them at all times, walking in a stiff manner as if she was uncomfortable with their presence.
"I don't remember walking so far in." Cameron whispered from beside her after five minutes of walking through hallways.
"You're telling me." She whispered back, frowning as they walked through an unfamiliar passage. She spoke up then, "are we taking a different route out?"
The woman in front turned around and glanced at her, "one of the inmates is being transferred back to his cell so we're trying to avoid that route."
Mala nodded, happy with that answer.
The halls became shorter and shorter until they were turning a corner every ten seconds. Mala had no idea what part of the prison they were in now.
The artificial light wasn't as blinding in these corridors and the doors were a muddy silver colour rather than a clean white. The smell of fake wolf was giving way to a trace of the real thing- unadulterated shifter.
She wondered if her father noticed it too.
She found herself filtering through the scents, searching past chemical and fragrance and mire to-
Pine.
Lemon grass.
Petrichor.
Everything she loved about the outdoors was inside this dank, listless hellhole.
That just wasn't right.
She caught herself lifting her head further in the air to get more of it, practically bounding with glee.
It was only when Cameron nudged her in the side and she shot him a sheepish smile, that she realised how absurd she must have looked. She was glad that they were a few paces behind the rest of the group, she didn't need her dad observing her odd behaviour and thinking she had a screw loose.
"What is it?" Cameron whispered, looking unsure as to whether it was okay for him to talk at a normal volume.
She opened her mouth to answer, words fading away when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps in the distance.
More than one pair of approaching footsteps.
Her dad, who was walking beside Bates, suddenly cleared his throat, "we're about to run into your prisoner." He said, matter of fact.
Her dad, being alive for much longer than she had, also had a higher level of sensitivity to his senses. That was why he often heard things before she did, such as the sound of rattling chains that suddenly joined the melody of marching footsteps.
The chains clinked with every step, making a horrible grinding sound, one pair of feet more sluggish than the others.
Restricted in movement.
Mala was trained to act with composure in every situation, even when her heart was thrashing in her chest and her palms were sweating. She knew there was nothing to fear- even while she couldn't see the inmate, she could hear that he was well and truly constrained; but the strange shot of adrenaline that coursed through her blood had her feeling uncharacteristically frantic.
She heard the leading lady's resigned sigh, and her proceeding words, build up in her throat before it left her lips, "well it's too late to turn around now. We'll just have to keep going."
They walked down to the end of the hallway and turned another corner, the movement now incredibly monotonous, and Mala stayed focused on the forthcoming footsteps as they grew louder and louder, closer and closer.
She could now also hear heavy breathing and the jangling of keys, the sound of coarse material rubbing together and the squeak of cheap, ill-fitting shoes.
The smell of petrichor also grew stronger and she knew that she would barking up a storm if she was in wolf form.
She knew the exact minute the inmate and guards would walk around the next corner and took a deep breath, uncertain of what she was about to see.
Two major things happened next, both of them leaving Mala breathless.
First of all, she saw a flash of light. It curled around her waist and shot out in front of her, a blinding chord that disappeared in an instant.
It was something that she could almost play off as a figment of her imagination if it wasn't for the man who was violently lashed with the other end of it.
That was the second thing.