The hotel room was delightful compared to the last one I’d stayed in. When I walked in I let out a breath of delighted relief. It was a wide, spacious room with a big screen TV and shiny hardwood floors. I poked my head into the bathroom, thrilled to discover it had beautiful marble floors and a soaker tub, “Oh my gosh,” I had to stifle a delighted little giggle, thinking about relaxing in a hot bath. Just the thought if it made me realize how tense my entire body was. Every muscle ached from the constant stress. I promised myself a long relaxing soak, and walked back into the bedroom.
There was a living room as well, with a little fireplace with one of those paper wrapped logs on one side. A grin stole across my face. That’s what I would do tonight. I would have a hot cup of tea beside a crackling fire, and then a nice long bath. Then the next morning I’d go see Erik, and he’d answer all of my questions. I sighed. Maybe I could let myself relax for a bit.
All the same, I still walked over to the front door and clicked the lock into place, then checked all the windows. Yup, everything was locked up tight. I was safe, and tonight would be better then last night. The bed wouldn’t be like a mattress-shaped rock, for one thing.
I walked over and examined it. The bed was queen sized, with a soft, white comforter and fluffy clean pillows. I flopped onto the mattress on my back. It would be like sleeping on a marshmallow.
I rolled over and grabbed the remote from the nightstand, flicking on the TV, happily losing myself in the ridiculous problems of fictional television characters. The electric kettle was rumbling on the counter, and I went over and poured myself a hot cup of earl grey, enjoying the liquid warmth on my tongue, and how it warmed the palms of my hands as I held the mug. There was something comforting about sitting there on the big fluffy bed, the comforter over my legs, the crackle of the fire and the noise of the television. It was almost like all the crazy shit that was going on had been put on pause for the night. Like I was totally safe in this moment. A cynical little voice told me not to get too comfortable, but I did my best to ignore it. Why shouldn’t I have a few minutes of relaxation? Why did I have to be constantly in fear of the next person coming after me? It wasn’t fair.
I shifted slightly, and a bump in my jean pocked dug into my leg uncomfortably. I put down the mug and dug out my cell phone, frowning at it. I already had Charlotte’s number memorized and this thing had been nothing but trouble. Sure, the battery was out of it, but who knows. It was better to be safe then sorry. I flipped the covers off my legs and strode over to the far window, flicked the lock up and pushed the window open. The hinges were sticky, and I had to use two hands to push as hard as I could. My window looked down right into the street. There was a movie theatre across from it, and a set of lights directly in front of the hotel.
I looked down at the cars stopped at the light, at the tops of beat up cars and big trucks with all sorts of crap in the back, and an idea struck me suddenly. I slid the back off my phone as quickly as I could, shoved the battery in and turned it on. It took several seconds for the screen to light up, signaling that it was on again, and I anxiously looked at the light the entire time, hoping it wouldn’t turn green yet. Finally the little icons traveled across the screen. It was on.
There was a big white pickup truck right beneath me. The back was filled with sawdust. It couldn’t have been more perfect. I bit my lip, taking careful aim. Heart in my throat, I stuck my hand out, cell phone clutched in one sweaty palm. I dropped it, watched it plummet down flipping end over end, until it dropped into the sawdust pile without a sound.
“Yes!” I did an excited little dance there at the window. I’d done it!
The light changed, and the line of cars began to move slowly forward. I watched the white truck move down the street with my cell phone, triumph blazing through me, a smug grin on my face, “chase that, you bastards! I hope that truck goes all the way across Canada!”
The bath felt so nice, the warmth of the water soaking into my sore muscles. I even filled a wine glass with coke from the mini bar and pretended it was wine, and that I was all sophisticated. In reality I hated wine. There was a real bottle of it in the welcome basket, right next to the tea, but I wouldn’t touch it. Not only was it disgusting, but it made people do nutty things, and I needed my wits about me, even if Loki was chasing the white pickup to Nova Scotia by now. The thought made me grin.
I took another sip from the glass in my hand, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue, entertaining all sorts of happily bitter thoughts. I imagined him driving after the truck, thinking I’d got a lift with someone, driving for hours, getting tired and hot and frustrated. I imagined him finally finding the truck, discovering my cell phone in the back. How mad would that make him? Normally picturing Loki made me sad, but this time it gave me a rush of savage pleasure. Let the jerk go on a wild goose chase. He deserved it.
Eventually I climbed out of the tub, skin wrinkled like a raisin, feeling pleasantly flushed. I toweled off and slipped into one of the fuzzy white robes the hotel provided, happily lying on the bed for a few more hours of mindless TV. Finally around eleven I started to get tired. The bath had drained me completely of energy, so a long, refreshing sleep was definitely in order.
I turned the TV off, but let the fireplace continue to snap and crackle. The noise, and gentle orange light that glowed in the darkness was really comforting. My eyes were so heavy, and I drifted in and out, thinking that this bed was probably the softest I’d ever felt in my entire life. It might not have been, but right then, I would have sworn to you that it was. Thoughts drifted in and out of my conscious mind, flashing by in a jumble. Then there was nothing.
A gentle touch, a white face in front of me. I was faint, almost gone. The life was leaking from me with the blood flowing from the wound in my chest. I had hung on so long, waiting to see her before I let myself slip away. The queen’s voice was gentle, passionate, but her words made no sense. It was as if she spoke in a different language. Her words washed by me strangely, the ebb and flow of an alien tide. A jab of distress as I realized her beautiful face was growing fuzzy around the edges. I lifted a trembling hand and tried to touch her cheek, and she caught it in a firm, cool grasp.
I tried to tell her I was dying for her. I took the spear for her because that’s how much I loved her, but the only thing that came from my lips was a bubbling gasp. Something dropped onto me, cold spots bloomed on the fabric of my tunic, ice formed where they fell. The queen was crying, weeping for me. For her child.
The darkness was pierced by a gently glowing orange ember. For a second I couldn’t remember where I was, until I continued to stare at the ember and realized the fire had died out, and I was in a warm, soft bed in a nice hotel. I relaxed again, and was about to turn over and drift back into dreams, when a scratching noise reached me from the door. My heart did back flips, and I stayed frozen, clutching the sheets tightly with both hands. That noise must have been what woke me up. There was a metallic click, and a squeak, and a thin shaft of light appeared on the carpet. I could barely hear the sound of soft footsteps coming down the short hallway - past the bathroom, heading for the bedroom – over the sound of my heart beating out of my chest. It felt like I was going to go into cardiac arrest. I wouldn’t be killed by whoever had broken in, I’d be betrayed by my own body and die of a heart attack.
My mind scrabbled frantically, trying to think of something I could protect myself with. A picture of the fireplace flashed into my mind. The metal stand with the bronze fire poker that I’d used to jab at the log earlier with. I braced myself to spring out of bed. My mouth was completely dry. I couldn’t see anything, I didn’t know where the poker was.
A shock of horror went through me when I saw the outline of a tall figure creeping towards me in the dark, silhouetted my the orange light of the dying fire. He had to know I was awake, I was breathing too hard for him not to hear me. He stepped closer to the bed, and I was about to fling myself out in the direction of the fireplace, when light flooded the bedroom.
I squinted in panic, kicking the sheets off my legs so I could run. There in the doorway of the room stood a man. He was dressed in a collared shirt and black slacks, and his dark hair was long. He had a ring in one ear. He reminded me of a washed out eighties rocker. Not any sort of giant then. He had his hands in his pockets, quite casually, as if he were used to this sort of thing.
“Sorry to alarm you,” his voice was deep, and it instantly reminded me of the voice I’d heard back at the last hotel. He was the detective that had been looking for me. I was gaping at him, mouth hanging open. I wanted to run and grab the poker, but my knees were hardly holding me up at this point.
“You must be Megan,” He grinned, “sorry to break in like this, but you’re coming with me. Your foster mother has offered quite the cash award to have you delivered back home,” He reached into his pocket, and I flinched, expecting a gun. What he drew out of his slacks was almost as bad, a pair of heavy looking metal handcuffs. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I don’t care what you do after I deliver you safely home. You can run away again. I just want the money” He grinned again, showing all his teeth, “I’m not really a detective, as you might have guessed. Now, it would be much better for both of us if I didn’t have to use these. If you just come with me now, we’ll get you safely home.”
My mind was running in crazy circles. My foster mother had offered a reward for me? That didn’t sound like something she’d do. Then again, wouldn’t it give her the ultimate satisfaction to see me dragged back home like an errant little girl? I remembered her words, what I’d heard when I’d been listening outside her bedroom door, about giving me a proper spanking when I got back home. She’d probably get some sardonic satisfaction out of that. My cheeks glowed hotly, and I backed up a step, away from the man, towards the fire poker, “How did you find me?”
He grinned, and I noticed some of his teeth were crooked. “Followed you back from the sandwich shop. I almost lost you a couple times, you know. You’re not doing too badly. That little stunt with the phone was quite clever, too bad for you I staked out the building and saw you toss it onto that truck. That also told me what floor and room you were staying in, roughly that is.” He gestured to his polo shirt, which had the name of the hotel written on the left breast, “I had to knock on a few doors to make sure which room it wasn’t. You’d be amazed at these hotels, they have so much staff they don’t even notice there’s a guy cleaning rooms all day that they didn’t actually hire.”
“Why don’t you just leave,” I rasped, stomach clenching as he took a step closer and I continued to move away, “you could get in trouble for this. Technically it’s kidnapping.”
“Your step mother would explain, I’ve no doubt,” the fake detective seemed amused, “she sounds like she has quite a beef with you…”
I figured I was close enough now, and darted for the fire place. I could hear him curse behind me, his thudding footsteps at a run. My hand closed on the cool metal of the fire poker just as strong hands grabbed me around the waist and yanked me backwards. I tried to yank out of his grip, feeling him grip my thin night dress under his fingers. I lashed out with the poker, and he cursed as it clipped him in the side of the head. He pushed me, and I fell forward, landing on my stomach on the bed.
He was cursing, pinning me to the bed with one hand on my back as I thrashed and screamed, my feet kicking, landing blows on his legs. I felt him grab one arm and wrench it up behind my back, sending shooting pain through the joints. I screamed into the mattress as I felt the cold steel cuff click into place around my wrist. Twisting, still screaming, my thrashing hand connected with his face. He reeled backwards with a grunt of pain, and my hand came away bloody. I’d clipped him right in the wound I’d just given him with the poker.
“Bitch!” He spat, and lunged forward, pinning me to the mattress, his hands on my shoulders. He launched himself onto the bed, and I shrieked in protest as he straddled me, sitting on my hips so I couldn’t move. Pure horror coursed through me, sending icy tendrils shooting through all my nerves. My skin was crawling as his face loomed closer, and tears were starting to collect in my eyes. Up close I could smell him, stale cologne and sweat.
“You’re an awful lot of trouble,” he growled, “maybe you’re not worth bringing back. Maybe I’ll just kill you if you don’t behave.”
His hand was suddenly on my throat, squeezing, choking. Stars dotted my vision as I gasped for air, scrabbling at his beefy forearm with both hands. My entire body was thrashing, but he just dug in deeper and pressed harder, until black was creeping around the edges of my vision, and I thought for sure that death was just around the corner.
Suddenly he yelled, the hand retreated and he was backing off. I retched and gasped and sucked in deep breaths, darkness fading. The fake detective was looking down at his arm in horror. The limb was covered with ice, crusted in a thick and solid sheet of it. He scratched at it frantically, howling. When I tried to stand up, still gasping, he flung himself at me,
“What did you do! You freak! What did you do to me?”
His hand clipped the side my face, sending me backwards onto the bed again, head pounding. I lashed out at him as he advanced, seizing his other arm. This time the ice traveled at lightening speed, crawling up his arm, onto his throat. His eyes widened, and his mouth froze midscream with one last puff of breath that hung white in the air between us. I held on, furious and terrified as the cold blast travelled down his hips, over his legs. I could see the fabric of his slacks freeze, cover over with a thin layer of frost. His face was blue now, even his eyes, wide and frightened, were covered. He was totally encased, and it had only taken a manner of seconds.
My breath was coming in fast, sharp gasps now. I backed up into the corner of the bedroom, staring in horror at the statue of the fake detective standing at the foot of the bed. Blue, frozen, terrified looking. My back hit the wall, and I slid down slowly, collecting my knees, hugging them to my chest. My thin night gown was ripped and stretched, and a ridiculous thought crossed my mind as I stared at the statue through a veil of tears.
He ruined my night gown. I don’t have another one. What will I sleep in now?
It was ridiculous, but the tears finally came, flowing down my cheeks and trickling down my neck. They wouldn’t stop. I cried until it hurt, deep shuddering breaths shaking me with each sob. Hysterics, I knew about hysterics. I’d seen a kid in California have them one time in school. Snot was leaking now, mixing with the tears. My head was throbbing, just near my eye, probably already sporting a purple bruise. Hysterics were not pretty.
I took one last look at the blue man in front of me and shut my eyes. I think he’s dead. Something tells me I'll see him again though. Every time I shut my eyes.