She nods. “I wouldn’t call it live. More like trapped.”
No.
No way.
“Your… father works here?”
Her expression hardens.
“My father runs this place.”
The room tilts for a second.
“You’re…” I trail off, trying to connect the dots even though I already know what they spell. “You’re the daughter of General Vladislav Ergorov.”
My fruit-sticky fingers go cold.
And just like that, the last little illusion I had that I’d managed to meet someone who might be able to help me is gone, and now I’m thinking this is another test.
I put the half-eaten candy bar on the table. Suddenly, it’s not that appetizing anymore, and I don’t know what it could be laced with. Am I getting paranoid—fuck hell yeah. For a moment, I nearly fell for it. I almost let down my guard, which has been up for so long. I think it is starting to rust in place.
I stand. “I’d better find Helga and see if I can go over my quote of scrubs and showers for the day.”
“Fuck!” Valeska swears, standing with me. “It’s my father, isn’t it?”
“I have to admit, I was nearly taken in by your goth, rebel look,” I tell her. “But let your father and my mad scientist aunt, if she is my aunt, know that it didn’t work. I don’t spill my guts to strangers, and I still have no clue where my mother or sister are.” I shake my head. “How could I? I’ve been stuck in here for five days, and I’m not psychic.”
I turn and start to walk away.
“Sabrina, wait!” Valeska rushes after me. “You don’t understand…”
“I think I do,” I say and I’m saved having to say more when instead of Helga, Skinny, who’s name is Vavara and I love to mispronounce it and call her Viagra and it pisses her off which makes me day just a little brighter for it, appears.
“What are you doing here, Valeska?” Vavara’s tone is sharp and clipped like a frustrated schoolmarm. She is probably one.
“I can go wherever I like,” Valeska reminds her.
“Not when it’s almost curfew,” Vavara points out.
“She was helping me because I accidentally knocked my bowl of fruit over,” I tell Vavara, indicating the sticky mess I am.
“How can you be the granddaughter of Anya Novikov?” Vavara hisses in discussion. “You are a disgrace to her name. She was never clumsy. Even at her advanced age, she still floats with poise and grace.”
“Give me a bottle of tequila and I can do that too,” I tell Vavara, and I’m rewarded with a scathing look that could strip paint off walls.
“You had better go,” she hisses at Valeska, then turns her angry eyes on me. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You have a big day tomorrow.”
“And what exactly will I be doing tomorrow?” I say, pulling her attention to me while Valeska sneaks away.
“You will see,” she says almost with glee.
I pull a face as if I don’t care. “Cool.”
Later, in my new, sterile room, which admittedly has a much more comfortable bed and warmer blankets, I slide my hand beneath my pillow to make myself comfortable. My hand hits something. I pull the pillow back, squinting through the dark, and find two candy bars and a note. I don’t have to read the note to know who it’s from.
Crumpling the note in my hand, I make my way into the tiny bathroom with just a toilet and basin adjoining the room. I switch on the soft light when I read it.
Sabrina. We need to talk. I didn’t only bump into you to say hi. I’m here to help you, oh, and I have a phone—an untraceable burner. And NO this is not a trick, test, or anything to do with my father’s sick ass world. Like you, I’m a prisoner here trying to find a way out. Did I mention I can get word to a man named Oleksi?
