Chapter 15 Soraya

I toed the mat and revealed a solitary key. I turned it in my fingers, recognizing the symbolic reference to my situation. Key to a door, key to a new beginning. Mine.

I let my backpack fall from my shoulders and rolled them. Gosh it felt good to have that weight gone.

The key wouldn’t turn, so I jiggled it a little bit, trying to fight the panic rising from my stomach to my throat.

What if I couldn’t get it open? Where would I go? I had no-one to call, nowhere to go. Would I just sleep in a doorway, hoping I wouldn’t be discovered?

Finally, the key turned and the lock clicked.

The door gave with a hard push. Hinges groaned. I shut it behind me and slid the deadbolt that couldn’t be unlocked from the other side.

I leaned against the door until my heart beat at a normal rhythm, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. I didn’t have Orielle’s night vision, not with her gone. But I think what I did have was better than the average human’s night vision.

It was pitch-black inside.

Remembering Victor’s advice, I turned on the flashlight to get my bearings. A small table with the note he said was here, along with a small box.

A sink set into a short counter. A square stove pipe ran through a patch in the wall near the table, a narrow hallway, with a small bathroom and another door with a room that had a small bed against the wall. A crate with a folded blanket.

I grabbed the note and the box, and went back to the bedroom. There were no windows, so no light would shine out.

The handwriting had a feminine flair to it, slightly tilted, looped cursive.

Soraya—

You have three days here. Do not stay longer.

Eat the food in the cabinet. It will help the poison leave faster.

Use hot showers or baths as often as you can. Heat speeds the purge.                                       Sleep as much as you can.

Color your hair, it’s the easiest camouflage.

Keep light low after dark. Close curtains first.

Clean everything with bleach before you leave.

Leave the key under the mat when you go.

Follow the river east to the next road.

Once Lucien meets with the pack lawyers, he’ll receive a full report of holdings. After that, this place is not safe. Until then, it is.

Take this note with you when you leave.                                                                                                    I know you’re innocent dearest child. If there was one pup I wished I could have called blood… it was you.

Love,

—Matron.

I read it twice. Tears spilled, but they felt like happy tears. Someone loved me. Even if I never saw that woman again. I was loved. I held onto that warmth.

Without Ori, I didn’t feel so alone.

Making sure the curtains were closed, I went back into the kitchen to take inventory. Food, labeled and stacked. Oats, dried meat, broth cubes, two sealed tins with a handwritten “mix” on the lid.

One bottle of tea concentrate marked “bitter, drink warm.” A small bag of salt crackers. More water in sealed jugs under the counter. A jug of bleach under the sink. Matches, soap, a clean towel, a razor still in its wrapper.

It felt like a plan.

I took one tin and opened it. Powder inside, pale. The note hadn’t said how much to use. The lid had a scoop taped under it with a line drawn around the middle. I took that as the measure.

Stove first. The burner lit on the first try, I set a pot with water on the burner plate and poured in one scoop from the tin. Stirred with a plain metal spoon.

While it warmed, I tried again, hoping that now we were in a safe place she might come out.

Ori?

I pressed inward the way I had learned when I was a kid. Same quiet. No pushback. No breath against mine. Just empty.

I kept stirring.

When the mix thickened, I took it off the heat. It smelled like broth and metal. I ate half, waited for my stomach to accept it, then finished the bowl. Sweat started at my neck and along my spine before I was done. I sat still, palms flat on the table, until it passed.

The bathroom was small. A narrow shower with tile that had seen better days. A shelf with a few folded washcloths and another towel. The water ran after a long groan through the pipes.

It took a minute to get hot. When it did, it was hot enough to turn my skin red. I stood under it until the steam filled the room and the mirror fogged. My legs shook once, hard, then stopped.

Back in the main room I kept the light turned low and checked the curtains again. The window frame had a simple metal lock. It held. The door had a second slide bolt that looked new. I threw it and tugged.

I ate a cracker and washed the pot. I wiped the spoon clean and set both upsides down to dry. I folded the Matron’s note, slid it into the inside pocket of the pack, then changed my mind and put it back on the table so I could read it over and over.

I wasn’t leaving yet. I wanted to read it again in the morning. And probably before I went to sleep, and when I woke up.

I was loved. I smiled.

Now that I was feeling stronger, I went back to the box of hair color. Bringing it into the bathroom, I closed the door before I turned on the light.

I didn’t want to lose my white blonde hair, but the Matron was right. My hair would be a giveaway no matter where I went.

The box was a dark brownish, reddish color. I read the directions carefully, ignoring the test part. The results didn’t matter; I was doing this anyway.

It was awkward, but I managed to slather the goo everywhere, including my eyebrows. With my luck all my hair would fall out and I’d be bald.

I stuck my tongue out at the mirror and waited. When the time was up, I stuck my head under the tub faucet and rinsed until the water ran clear. Following the instructions, I put conditioner in and rinsed again.

My locks felts silky smooth, but the little bit of edges I could see, looked foreign.

After a good vigorous towel dry, I looked into the mirror again.

“Wow,” I said, my jaw dropping open. “Freaking-A.”

I turned all angles, wondering who this person was in the mirror. This would take some getting used to.

It was time to stop ogling the new me and get some sleep. Three days would go by fast.

I lined my boots by the bed. Pack on the floor within reach. Knife under the pillow, flat and easy to grab. I turned the lantern down to almost nothing and lay on the bed. The springs creaked but held.

No one knocked. No car. No engine. The stove ticked as it settled.

I slept.