The words Theo had said held a promise within them—that she was desirable and a woman, and not merely a thing. If they were true, she might be somebody for the first time in her life, a whole person. But if they were lies…if they were lies, her worth could be contained in a gutter.
Could she stay here? How? She couldn’t cook or knit or tend gardens. She could kill. Sure, and that was so damn useful right here and now. Tell Dankyo that and she’d be in a grave faster than a bullet could sing through the air. The center of her grew heavier and heavier. No. An assassin would never be greeted with open arms, and a frankenstruct assassin? Huh, she carried her own death warrant if she told them what she was.
She sighed. She could kill or she could, apparently, enthrall Theo with her womanly ways, and from what he’d done and said to her at breakfast, that meant ending up in his bed. He’d told his staff to take care of her. What was he thinking?
But, oh, he was so gorgeous and did such wonderful things to her. When he was in front of her, she felt wanted. When he wasn’t—
Heavens, I can’t stop thinking of him.
She squeezed her thighs together and felt the swell of lust. Her body wanted her to stay. She hugged herself and lay there for ages, imagining how things might go if, for once, the world turned her way.
Three in the morning and a new guard arrived, his boots thumping on the floor and awakening her. She asked to go to the bathroom. The thin woman released her from the bed, and in the quietness of the predawn, as she crossed the room, she heard the guards talking.
“You know why the colonel’s away?”
Someone murmured something.
“Yeah, well, I was told the truth. Ain’t saying who told, but they’re bringing back a government interrogator…for her. He’ll be taking her away.”
All her future imaginings turned to ashes. She faltered.
The air itself tasted bitter in her mouth. Her heartbeats thinned and beat like a dying bird’s. The night air wrapped so cold about her fingers, toes, and throat, she almost forgot to breathe.
So, that was that. She’d work on the fork this morning and today, then leave at night. No use staying any longer. It had indeed been lies. She was hollow inside, empty as a scraped-out gourd, and felt so terribly lost and betrayed.
Chapter Seven
Nighttime was always best. Making it across the open space surrounding the house would be difficult in daylight. At night it was mostly dark, except that every so often they fired up some sort of searchlight.
The fork did its job well. Half an hour or so of maneuvering the tine inside each lock, while listening for telltale clicks, and she was free. The lock at the end of the long chain proved even faster to pick.
She’d meant to leave June out of this; only, as often happened to plans, it went wrong. The skinny woman fell ill, and June had to do double duty. From the snoring, the long hours had taken a toll. It occurred to Claire to wonder how uncomfortable it must be to have to sleep in that chair, especially for someone as bulky as June. The moon hadn’t risen yet. She studied the room. The outer door—closed and locked. June, sleeping in the chair. She rolled over and looked at the balcony doors. Black outside, for the moment. Nothing stirred bar an owl hunting and a few crickets down below in the gardens.
Pillowcase in hand, the cuffs muffled by the cloth, she crept over to June and swiftly gagged her by stuffing the pillowcase in her mouth. She had it fastened in place and the cuffs and chain holding her in the chair before June properly awoke. The sheet tied her feet to the chair. June’s eyes stared accusingly over the top of the gag.
Sorry, Claire mouthed.
Clothes were a problem. In the drawers were only underwear and nightclothes. The cupboard held dresses. Until she could steal something better, the aqua silk pajamas she had on would do.
She crept to the balcony doors, snicked them open, and folded them back. The dew-wet tiles on the small balcony chilled her bare feet. To her dismay, the Final Rebuttal squatted there before her. The outside searchlights came on, throwing stark shadows and blazing yellow light against the house. She took a slow step back and shrank into the blackness of the door opening.
Give them time. They’ll turn the lights off eventually.
Theo and Dankyo might have returned. Doesn’t matter. Her plan was unchanged. Once past the house defenses, she’d head west, and if this place was where she thought, she’d hit the border within a day.
A sucking noise drew her attention to the room. June. Something fell with a bang. The side table, she guessed. The outer door rattled. “Key!” someone yelled. The noise stopped. June wasn’t breathing.
Run? Go over the railing and hope to get away in the confusion, and let June be? It’d kill her. How to strangle effectively—the facts from the training session flashed to her. Doesn’t take long to die without air. To her own surprise, she didn’t hesitate, and sprinted for June, hurtling the bed in a stride and ripping away the gag.