Moonlight Sonata

5. Tipping the scales

It had to be close to eight the next evening when food was served through the hole beneath our door. Ham, fake scrambled eggs, and a small carton of milk. As I picked up the trays I felt a scrap of paper taped beneath one and took it for myself, handing Devorah the other one. The moment I knew the guards were gone I picked out the paper from beneath it and opened it up; beneath the cell numbers, there were now codenames scribbled in fine cursive.

"Sergei has good handwriting for a boy," Devorah commented as she took a seat beside me, "who's all on the paper?"

"Two deceased subjects, one empty cell, and four live ones," I whispered, "S Class, codename: Oracle, S Class, codename: The Necromancer," I let out a shaky sigh of relief, "A Class, codename: Scale Bearer, and S Class, codename...Arcane."

"Arcane? Who's Arcane?" Devorah asked, "there's a question mark beside it."

"Arcane could be one of two people, both of whom are dead," I shook my head, "obviously Sergei is just as confused as I am."

"I guess we'll have to find out tonight, won't we?"

I nodded, digging into my food with unease. It didn't quite taste right and that was the usual here. I finished quickly and was about to slide my tray back under the door when I saw someone walking out in the hall. They very obviously had a knife strapped to their side, and I was debating using my telekinesis to take it when he suddenly fell forward, as if he'd been pushed.

The knife slipped from the holster unnoticed, and while he was looking the other way, the knife came sliding my way, as if kicked. The blade stopped mere inches from my bare feet and I stepped back, looking through the bars to see if the guard noticed. He was too busy talking on the radio to have heard the sound and I knew we'd gotten off lucky. I picked up the knife and looked back out suspiciously, knowing that something was out there when it shouldn't have been.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" Devorah gawked, getting up from her spot and walking over to me.

"There's someone out there, trying to help us," I said softly, shoving the tray away and watching as she did the same, "either way, the knife is sharp enough to take the tracker out. Are you squeamish?"

"I survived torture at the hands of Nazi's and lived through experimentations," she said flatly, "no, I'm not squeamish."

"Just had to check," I shrugged, grabbing ahold of her arm and digging the knife in. She bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying out in pain. I managed to dig the implant out, extracting the device and tossing it under her bed before I ripped a piece of my sheet off and tied it around her arm to stop the bleeding.

"Now what?" She asked.

"We have to wait. Someone will bring something, maybe another note or weapons."

"How long do you think we'll have to wait?"

"I bet not long. It's a few hours to midnight." I whispered, hiding the knife beneath my blanket.

"So...just sit and wait?"

"Just sit and wait."

I took position on my cot, backed into the corner with my eyes on the door. I could hear a faint ticking in the hall, as if a clock was telling the time. There were no clocks though, and whether from my memory or imagination it was, I hadn't a clue. It helped me to focus though, the irritation driving me to the brink of insanity by the time the next hour came. Sixty seconds per minute, sixty minutes per hour. That's 3,600 total ticks that I had to listen to, four times in a row. I smirked a little, knowing that Marshall might be proud of the neatness and organization of my thoughts. I gripped the vial tightly, hoping that right now, he was holding his wife and telling his daughter a bedtime story. More tears wanted to escape my eyes, but I didn't let them.