Chapter 13 #2
It was a windowless space with a large mirror that hung on the wall right above the sink.
I took a few moments to examine my reflection, running my hands through my hair.
The soap Lisa had given me made my hair feel flatter than it did in Zorya, and it was slightly longer.
I hadn’t shaved since leaving Zorya, and the stubble on my face had grown out so that I now almost had a beard.
I would need to shave before returning home, I realized, for only married men wore beards in Zorya.
I smoothed out my T-shirt over the jeans, glanced at the shoes Lisa had bought me, and sighed.
How I wished for my old bast shoes, the caftan, and the loose trousers.
Suddenly, I heard rustling outside of the door and froze.
The noise repeated, and I opened the door, stepping back into the hallway.
The man I’d seen on the porch was standing right outside the door, grinning. His hands were in his pineapple-pants pockets, the same bright-orange shoes on his feet.
“I thought I heard someone down here.” The man curled his lips into a smile.
Up close, his hair looked bright red, almost orange, and quite nearly matched the color of his shoes.
He was taller than me but was very thin, wiry.
His arms were muscular, and his forearms were covered with bright-red, curly hairs. He winked at me.
It was the wink that threw me off guard, and I immediately doubted my suspicion that the man was Lisa’s ex-husband. From her description, I’d created an image of Quinn as a dangerous man who wouldn’t act so amiably.
“Hello, my name is Jonathan,” I said, just as Lisa had taught me. I tried to sound as natural as possible. “I’m here to rent a room in your establishment.”
“I’m just one of the guests, just passing through,” the man chuckled. “I just came down here to get a cup of coffee.”
“Do you know where I can check in?”
“I’m sure someone will be down soon. You can probably wait over here.”
He opened the second door, which was straight ahead, and led me to what looked like a living room.
Thick, burgundy curtains had been drawn, creating a gloomy atmosphere.
The space was bursting with furniture: a wooden table and six chairs around it, dark brown couches along the walls, and a cupboard with white cups and plates.
The man pointed to it and said, “Well, since you’re going to be staying here, you might as well help yourself to a cup of coffee.
They start serving breakfast at seven, and it’s five thirty now.
” He looked at his watch. “I’m an early bird, and you must be, too. To come here at this hour?”
“Yes, I am. I just drove up,” I said, my voice quivering.
This was another thing Lisa had told me to say. She’d instructed me never to mention Harry and to never tell anyone I’d come on foot or had ridden a horse to any destination.
“Where’s your car? You didn’t park in the driveway, did you? The other morning they had a delivery truck coming in and they blocked me in for over an hour.”
“Not a problem,” I said, waving my arm to indicate the location. “I parked over in the wooded area.”
The man didn’t respond. He poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a slow, deliberate sip. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood up. I could tell this man was dangerous, but I didn’t know why. He was just a casual resident of the inn, wasn’t he?
“So, Jonathan, are you gonna have some coffee with me or what?” He scratched his chin.
“Sure thing, Mr.—” I responded and looked at him expectantly.
I realized he hadn’t told me his name. I walked to the coffee machine and got a cup out of the cupboard.
Then I picked up the pot. The dark, almost black liquid made a swooshing sound.
The smell was nauseating. Though Lisa had offered it to me a few times, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to try it. Now, I had no choice.
I poured myself some of the liquid and brought the cup to my lips, hesitating briefly before taking a sip. My head started throbbing as the beverage hit my throat, and I coughed.
“Good, eh?” The man came up close. “Now, are you on drugs?” He was standing right next to me, and I smelled him. It was a sour, nasty smell. It’s how my two brothers smelled right before a fight. I clenched my fists and sucked my head in, preparing for a punch.
“So, you say you came here to get a room. What a ridiculous proposition! Do you think me a fool, boy?” the man screeched right into my ear.
“I do not, sir.” I swallowed hard. “I’m just here to stay a few nights, and that’s it.”
“And why would you do that? All alone, why would you come to a historic bed-and-breakfast known for its romantic setting? Settled along the Blue Ridge Parkway, in the middle of the gorgeous Virginia countryside. Do you know how old most of the guests at this inn are?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“They are sixty, young man. Jonathan.” He spat my fake name out like a slur. It sounded worse than Ivan the Dimwit.
“But—” I tried to speak, but the man stopped me, putting up his hand.
“Listen, don’t insult my intelligence. We both know why you’re here. Tell Lisa she’s wasting her time. I’m not giving her the deed. Tell her to forget it. And if I see your face here again, you will never see the light of day.”
“Are you Quinn?” I mumbled, staring at the man in disbelief.
“It’s Mr. Alastair to you.”
“Yes, Mr. Alastair.”
“Now, you get lost, boy.”
“Yes, sir. Yes, Mr. Alastair.”
I carefully set the mug of coffee on the table, preparing to dart out of the room, but he was much faster than me.
In the blink of an eye, Quinn Alastair jumped up and got me in a chokehold.
I struggled for air as his hands squeezed my throat, tightening over me.
I tried to pull him off, but he clasped his wiry fingers around my neck with immense force.
My whole life flashed before my eyes. Yassy.
The village. Papa, my brothers. And then Lisa’s beautiful face.
Lisa, Vasilisa. I will never see her again.
Just as this thought crossed my mind, his grasp on my neck loosened and Quinn dropped me on the floor.
I opened my mouth and drew in a breath as black circles floated in front of my eyes.
My relief was temporary, for almost immediately, the man pulled me up and dragged me by my armpits through the living room to the hallway.
I expected him to throw me outside, but instead he opened the third door in the hallway and pulled me inside.
I found myself in a completely dark, windowless space that immediately sucked me in.
A moment later, I heard the sound of a key turning and realized I was trapped.
I knocked on the door, but to no avail. I knocked again. Nothing. I moved my hands and felt the walls. They were covered in a thick, unfamiliar material. No sound came from the outside. This was some kind of ingenious prison cell that completely isolated a person from the world.
Hot tears welled up in my eyes, as I slumped down on the floor.
I’d been tricked. It took Quinn less than an hour to figure out who I was and trap me.
The realization that I hadn’t even come close to fulfilling Lisa’s hopes cut like a knife.
I was completely useless. A true dimwit.
Worse than a dimwit. I’d betrayed her trust and failed.
The phone Lisa had given me was in my back pocket, but calling her was out of the question.
I could never admit my defeat to her. I reached for it anyway, remembering too late she’d asked me to call her as soon as Harry and I got to the mill.
I pressed on the side of the phone, and for a moment, the screen flashed, but it immediately turned back to black, leaving me in complete darkness, which now felt even more desperate.
My throat felt hoarse and raw, but I tried whistling anyway, hoping Harry could hear me. Nothing happened. There was no reassuring sound of Harry’s hooves approaching. The walls of the room were soundproof.
I slumped down on the floor, hugging my knees.
My mind was racing. What did Quinn want with me?
Would he keep me here forever? How long would it take for Harry to understand I was in trouble?
Would I die of starvation? My head was throbbing from the coffee I’d had.
I closed my eyes, hoping the headache would go away.
I must have fallen asleep, for when I opened them again, I felt slightly better.
And that’s when I remembered the feather.
I’d tucked it into my jeans at the last minute, after Lisa reminded me to take it with me right before Harry and I had set out for the mill.
It could all be so easy: I would make a wish to get out of this trap, and then I would be free.
But the trade-off was that I would then lose my chance to capture the Firebird.
I needed the feather to get the bird, who always came back for its feather.
And if I failed to bring her the Firebird, I would cross the powerful witch Baba Yaga.
Flipping the feather in my hands, I contemplated my next move.
It felt warm between my fingers, and I rubbed it, then flicked it.
Right away, the feather lit up the whole room, so I could see my surroundings.
The small space resembled a cupboard. The panels on the walls had been fitted tightly together, and if I hadn’t been thrown into the space earlier and heard the sound of the key turning, I would have sworn there was no exit.
But I knew one of the boards could shift and turn into a door.
And so, with the light of the feather guiding me, I examined every crevice, moving slowly and deliberately as I held the feather in my left hand and moved the fingers of my right hand along the surface of all four walls.
After examining each wall several times, I was almost ready to give up when I felt it.
A tiny, barely perceptible ledge. I brought the feather closer to it and, to my great relief, saw the feather move.
This was a sign of a passage of air. I pushed the quill side of the feather into the hole and something clicked.
Then there was a metallic noise and the keyhole turned on its own, opening the door.
The next moment, I was shoved back into the hallway.
Without giving it a second thought, I leaped to the front door, jumped over the three steps and ran to freedom, right to the spot where I’d left Harry.