by Elena Lawson
My stomach growled and ached painfully, and my bladder felt about ready to burst. I’d had to relieve myself twice already, afraid I’d burst if I hadn’t. But the acrid stench of my urine was gone, which meant Devin must’ve come in at some point to clean it away while I slept.
I eyed the crackers and fruit suspiciously and then saw another mouse—different from the one who I’d just shared my meal with. It was smaller, it’s color a darker gray. And it was dead.
Laying only a handful of feet away from the bounty of food it’d clearly been feasting on.
“Shit,” I cursed, wanting to cry and barf and scream all at the same time.
I felt around my clothes. Beneath my dirty and torn jacket, I was still wearing the jeans and long sleeve shirt I’d had on when I left Jared’s cabin. My bra was still in place beneath my shirt. My zipper was done up—the button buttoned.
He’d drugged me—that was why I kept passing out. There was something in the food. Had he injected the fruit? Sprinkled sleeping pill dust over the crackers? There’d been a funny taste in my mouth after I’d eaten, I remembered that, but I’d attributed it to the blood still in my mouth and not having brushed my teeth in a couple days.
I’d been wrong. Whatever the drug was, it’d killed that mouse…and it would kill the other one I’d just fed. My chest burned.
Sorry little guy…
I groaned in fury, kicking at the wall. I could feel it now, the grogginess. My body felt heavy and sagging. My mind foggy and swaying.
I held my head between my hands and tried to clear it, taking in deep breaths.
At least he hadn’t touched me.
He hadn’t, right?
My body didn’t feel violated. My clothes were still in place and there was no pain down there.
I needed to get my wits back before I passed out again. Shoving my fingers deep down my throat, I upturned what little sustenance I had left in my body. I reached for the last dregs of water left in the large one-liter bottle that’d been in the bag to wash out my mouth, but paused. Noticing for the first time a strange shimmer in the water.
I chucked the bottle across the room and it hit the opposite wall with a noisy plastic crunch before rolling to the floor and spilling what was left its contents over the stone. He’d drugged everything.
The fucking bastard.
In my rage, my vision wavered between blurred and crystalline sharpness as I seethed alone in the dark. Something small, slim, and metal caught my eye next to where the dead mouse was laying motionless amid the debris from the wooden crate Devin had shattered against the wall in his rage.
It was a nail. A slightly bent, slightly rusted nail, but the sharp tip of it sparked an idea. I lifted the manacle on my wrist and inspected the keyhole with shaking fingers. I’d never picked a lock before, but this one was old and wide. Surely it wouldn’t be so difficult. With a renewed fervor, I clambered over to the nail and snatched it up, dropping it twice before I was able to settle my nerve-racked body enough to hold it steady.
Fuck. I needed to get control of myself. The dull knife of anxiety was creeping over me, made stronger by the fact that my body was weak. It was always worse when I hadn’t eaten right. Wasn’t hydrated.
Forcing myself to vomit up what little I had eaten probably only made it worse, but I prayed it had the effect of turning up any leftover drugs that hadn’t already been absorbed into my bloodstream.
I just needed to focus. To get out. Then I could stuff my face with all the huckleberries I wanted—after I was done running the fuck away from here. Wherever here was.
I couldn’t think about that now. I couldn’t focus on what I would do once I was free or what other trial might face me once I got through that door. I needed to take the first step. Exit.
Then figure out the rest.
Fitting the end of the nail into the rusted opening was like trying to thread a needle with my vision swimming so badly. But eventually, I got it in. I wet my mouth, shirked off my jacket, pressing my back against the cold stone. The chill seeped into my skin and had the desired effect, lending me the momentary alertness I needed to do this.
From what I knew of locks—very little I had to admit—there was a tumbler thing inside that needed to be pushed up and rotated out of the way for the lock to come undone. I didn’t even know if this was true for all locks, or if, like the movies, you needed two slim pieces of metal to pick a lock properly.
Grunting as I pressed upward into the narrow channel of the lock, I heard a little click and nearly cried with relief, dropping the nail.
Except when I pulled on the manacle, it didn’t come free. Instead a small bit of something fell from the keyhole.
My fingers were trembling too badly for me to be able to pick it up, but on closer inspection, I saw that it was a small bit of metal.
Please don’t tell me I just broke the damned lock…
I threw my head back and let the hopeless moan I’d been trying to hold back escape. It rose in tempo and volume all on its own, the fury chasing out the weakness.
Fuck him, I thought to myself. Fuck him!
That fucking bastard wanted me to sit here, loopy and out of it on drugs until he came for me. Was I really going to give him what he wanted? Was I really going to make it this fucking easy?
My father’s voice answered the question for me in my mind, as though he was sitting in the makeshift jail cell with me.
Hell, no.
You pick your ass up, Allie Grace, and you keep going.
I nodded to myself, wondering offhandedly if this was the onset of hysteria.
I didn’t bother with the nail this time. I didn’t know how to pick a lock. It was a stupid idea. But there was something else I could do.
I cursed myself for not having thought of it sooner. There were a couple centimeters of space between my wrist and the manacle. If I pulled as hard as I could on my arm and tried to slip my hand through the circlet of metal, it was close—the bind was clearly made for a larger wrist. But no matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t quite get it off, not even when I greased the thing with water, and later, when I’d tried saliva instead.
I tenderly pushed against the spot where my thumb connected to the base of my hand, wincing at the tender flesh just below, where the manacle had been rubbing in my sleep. If it didn’t have the bump of my thumb joint to go over…
My stomach roiled.
Was I really going to do this?
This time it was Viv in my mind. Fuck yes, you’re going to do this, she hissed in that lovingly neurotic way only she had.
Viv would do it. Hell, she would have already thought of it and done it and escaped.
So, then why was I hesitating?
Goddamnit.
Before I could change my mind or really think it through, I snatched up an errant piece of broken crate and slid it between my teeth. Then pushed the manacle as far down my forearm as I could and bent my thumb inward, pressing the palm of my opposite hand flat against it to hold it in place.
I could feel the joint straining already. All it would take is one good thrust with all my body weight and it’d be done.
I closed my eyes and bit down.
…and did what had to be done.
18
My hand slipped free of the manacle with only a slight tug, but the pressure of the metal against my newly broken digit almost made me scream. I clutched my hand to my chest for a moment to catch my breath and spat out the bit of wood, letting it clatter to the floor.
Time to move.
Taking in a lung full of air through my nostrils, I rose from the floor and took two steps, nearly falling over as another wave of vertigo swept over me. I caught myself before I could fall and shook my head sharply, turning back to scoop up my jacket and put it on. It took longer than I would’ve liked to get my injured hand down into the sleeve.
Okay, I reassured myself. You did the hard part, Allie. It’s done. Now you need to get out. Then…you need to run.
But you can do this, Allie Grace, my father reminded me like he had so many times before when I’d wanted to give up. He was the one who molded me into the fighter I am today. And I would make him proud.
It took a moment to steady myself, to gain my footing and my head, then I was moving. I crossed the cell on clumsy feet and drew the lantern nearer so I could see the door. The wick was nearly all burned up now—only a small tail remained jutting out into the oil beneath the flame. We used to have one of these lamps—me and dad—when we stayed in the blind. I knew from then that the wicks generally lasted about eight or so hours.
Which had to mean that Devin had been coming at least that often to replace the wick because to my knowledge I hadn’t been left in the dark. Each time I awoke, the lamp had been lit. Judging by what remained of the wick, there was an hour left of burn time, and I prayed that meant I had at least an hour to escape before Devin would return.
The door wasn’t really a door at all, I found, just an archway that had the illusion of looking as though it were sealed off. The air beyond was just as dark as it had been inside, there was no discernible breeze. But as I drew in great gulps of air in my panic, I realized it was fresher than it was deeper into the cell where I was being kept.
There had to be a way out through here.
I used the wall to help steady myself, regretting leaving the lamp behind in the cell when the inky dark grew so thick, I couldn’t even see my cold breaths in the air anymore.
But after several more paces and following the wall around a bend and up three jagged steps, the stone corridor plateaued, and light could be seen at the end of a long upward sloping tunnel.
Tears pricked at my eyes as I hurried faster upwards, almost to a jog now. The light was coming from a slit in the stone, and when I was close enough, I saw that it was definitely an opening. I pressed against the wall with my shoulder, but the heavy door barely budged.
I felt around it with my hands. It was…stone. The opening had been mostly covered over by a stone door. I felt the edges, top and bottom. It had been rolled into place concealing the opening of the cavern.
Fuck.
I knew I couldn’t move it alone. Even though it only came to my chest in height and didn’t seem to be particularly thick, it was still solid rock and probably weighed at least two-hundred pounds, if not more.
But…maybe I could roll it. The gap in the stone was just big enough for me to slip my fingers in and get a good grip, but with only one hand I could use to do the job, it wouldn’t work. And after several pulls with everything I had in me, gritting my teeth and growling at the exertion, I knew it was no use.
When you couldn’t lift the hunting blind off your ankle, you found a way. You can find a way to do this, too, I told myself. The false sense of security I kept trying to give myself was starting to disintegrate. If I couldn’t open this and Devin found me freed from his chains, what would he do to me?
I had a flicker of an idea—maybe I could go back, pretend I was still chained up and then when he came for me…
When he came for me…what?
I couldn’t take him down. I knew that now. He was half wolf. Stronger than I could ever hope to be. But with the element of surprise, maybe I could incapacitate him. Maybe I could kill—
I stopped the thought before it could take hold.
No. I couldn’t do that. Not even after what he did to me. I couldn’t end someone else’s life. Fuck!
Gritting my teeth, with my hand throbbing as I moved, I settled myself down on the floor, pressing my back flat against the wall to the left of the door. Rough stone jabbed into my back, but I paid it no mind. It was the least of my worries. I could deal with a few more bruises if I could just get out.
Pressing both my feet against the tiny lip of the door, I used the wall to help push my legs, straining muscle and sinew and tendon as I bared my teeth and pushed with everything I had.
The door rolled an inch. I took a breath and pushed again, stifling my urge to cry out from the strain. It rolled again, another two inches. I kept pushing, and soon, its own momentum propelled it until it connected with some other stone outside, the loud crack deafening in the silence of the night, reverberating through the deep navy of early night and the forest below the ledge I was peering over.
It was a mountain. Not a large one, the downward inclination wasn’t incredibly steep, and only about ten feet away, small trees grew out from the dirt covered stone sloping all the way down to the forest floor about forty feet below.
I didn’t recognize it, I realized, but I was high up and had never seen my forest from this angle. I squinted into the horizon above the trees, still trying to catch my breath, and saw the glow of a city’s lights in the distance. I was so turned around I had no idea which way was north, but if those lights were Forest Grove, and I prayed they were, then that was the way I was headed.
As I scrambled out of the mouth of the cave and onto the ledge, the crunch of plastic made me squeal and I nearly fell off in my haste to back away. It was a plastic water bottle, much like the one Devin had left for me except as I twisted the cap, I realized the seal was still intact. With stiff fingers, and using my underarm to hold the bottle steady, I untwisted the cap and spilled almost half the water over the rock at my feet in my haste.
Cursing, I righted the bottle and gulped it down greedily, finishing its entire contents in three long swallows. It was icy cold and hurt my teeth, but I didn’t care. I could feel it carving a cool path down my esophagus and through my belly. It was fucking glorious.
In hindsight, I should have conserved it, but as I tossed the bottle back to where I’d found it against the exterior of rock, I found I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit.
The sting of crisp autumn air on my cheeks and the feel of the moonlight against my closed eyelids was absolute bliss. I did it.
And mercifully, it seemed, Devin had yet to return. I half expected him to jump at me from the shadows, or for him to have been sitting out here smugly waiting as I struggled to roll away the stone door. But he wasn’t. And I was free.
I managed to maneuver myself from the ledge and down onto uneven rock, glancing back at the black hole I’d just emerged from with a gulp. No time to waste. I hurried as quickly and quietly as I could down the slope, only slowing once I had the cover of trees.
My vision blurred and fell against the rough bark of a tree, scraping my palm. I bowed my head for a breath and stumbled to the next tree, falling against it harder than I had the last one. It was like gravity was stronger here. My weight twice as heavy as it was normally. The magnetic pull of the earth trying to drag me down was a physical force and I had to grit my teeth to press on. I had to get far away if I was going to truly escape.
Jared scented Ryland outside his cabin from fifty feet away. If he’d been trying, I was willing to bet he’d have scented him sooner, and that was in his human form. It would be easier as a wolf, wouldn’t it?
There was no time for a break. I couldn’t afford the luxury of pause.
Devin would be on his way back to the moon room to turn me any time now. My head whipped up to the sky. I’d slept twice. The moon was fat and round in the caress of wispy gray clouds in the sky. It seemed bigger than usual. The stars around it brighter.
It was full. There was no doubting it.
If Devin found me, he was going to turn me.
Or try to…my mind corrected. Jared said that not everyone completed the change. There was a chance that it wouldn’t work even if Devin did find me and…what? Bite me? Was it that simple?
And if you don’t change?
Then what do you think he’ll do to you? If he can’t have you how will he react?
I cursed in a whispered string of profanity as I pressed on, seething with rage, and shaking from cold and fear.
I just nee
ded to get to town. Just get to town and then you’ll be safe. You can call the police. You can find Jared and tell him what happened. Surely if the police couldn’t apprehend him, a pack of other wolves would be able to hunt him down? There had to be rules against this sort of thing, right?
Even in fucked up paranormal land?
The sound of trickling water caught my attention and I followed it to a small creek hemmed in by low hanging brush and stumpy trees. I sagged to my knees in the dirt and lifted a handful of icy water to my lips, taking a drink before wiping the rest of it over my sweat-beaded brow. I repeated the motion three more times before I felt the sharp edge of alertness return enough to rise once more.
But before I could, I dipped my hand deeper into the water, reaching all the way down to the muddy creek bed. I dug my fingernails into the cold, wet earth and drew out a handful of algae filled mud. I ran my hand over my forehead first, shivering as the mud slid over my skin as though it were a grainy ice cube. I did my cheeks next, then my neck, regretting that choice as small drips of mud found their way between my breasts.
I scooped up more and coated the outside of my jacket in streaks of reddish brown. Then the front of my jeans and with a mournful pout, my new converse sneakers.
The mud should help to conceal my scent, I rationalized to myself, regretting my decision as a biting breeze passed over me, clinging to the wet mud and shooting pins and needles into my skin.
“This better fucking work,” I muttered to myself, setting off in the direction of the city lights with a set jaw and renewed determination.
19
About thirty minutes later, I was drifting in and out. I kept blinking hard as I tried to keep up a brisk pace, but barely managed a slogging one, and each time I blinked, I had this strange feeling as though more time had passed than I realized.
Surveying my surroundings every so often only made me feel more disoriented. I couldn’t even be certain I was going in the right direction anymore. My throat was raw and sore from the cold. My feet were aching, the pain in my heels starting to overtake even the throbbing ache in my hand that I kept clutched to my chest, elevated to stave off the worst of the pain.