Jamie laughed.
The crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves. Everyone was eating and drinking wine. Many of the Hamletville citizens looked relaxed, yet I noted some eyes were carefully taking in the scene. Buddie leaned against the bar watching every move our hosts made. I noticed that he had not eaten or drunk either. Will had come to sit near Ethel and Summer, and something in his posture seemed protective. Kiki’s dark eyes roved the room suspiciously. On the other hand, Jeff had approached Matilda. He was already half drunk. He was trying to offer her a drink; he had a glass of some honey colored liquor in his hand he tried to press at her. She looked at him like she was starting at road-kill.
After awhile, Rumor and her blonde companion rose and crossed the room. They were chatting in a Slavic language when they passed us. I heard Rumor call the girl Katya.
“Have you taken out the garbage?” Rumor asked.
“No, not yet. There was only one load, but Madala was there all night,” Katya, the blonde woman, replied in the same language.
“Ahh, well, I shall see about it myself and decide. But get rid of the extra cloth,” Rumor ordered.
Nodding affirmatively, the girl followed behind. “And the bogatyrka?” Katya asked with a laugh as she shot a glance back at me.
I pretended not to see.
Rumor joined her laughter. They turned then and exited the room.
I did not hear her answer.
“What is it?” Jamie whispered.
I shook my head, uncertain.
“Were they speaking Russian?” he asked.
“Some Slavic language,” I replied.
“That’s why you lied. What were they talking about? She looked at you and said something, bogat--?”
“They said, ‘bogatyrka.’ It’s a very old term for a kind of female warrior.”
“Layla Campbell, the bogatyrka,” Jamie whispered.
I smiled wryly and wondered what Rumor had answered. I noticed then that Jamie looked pensive.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Ian.”
I nodded. “Let’s make one round then go.”
As we circled the room, we found almost everyone talking about one thing: Rumor. Her beauty was remarkable and everyone seemed entranced. Jamie was checking in with Mrs. Finch and Fred. I approached Buddie who was still propped against the bar.
I stood beside him. His drink was still untouched.
“Not drinking?”
Buddie inhaled deeply then turned and looked at me. “I brought my bow. I also brought several handguns and as much ammo as I could fit into a gym bag.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
Buddie nodded his chin toward the far side of the room where the piano sat.
I scanned the room. Jeff was still working on Matilda. Ambrosio had joined them. After exchanging a few words, Ambrosio and Matilda walked away from Jeff who now looked angry. Jeff tossed back his drink and sauntered over to the piano player. The piano was perched in the corner of the room near the wall. When he neared the wall, I noticed Jeff’s reflection; the wall on the far end of the room was mirrored. I could also see mine and Buddie’s reflections at a distance. As well, I spotted Jamie and the others. Then I saw it. Matilda and Ambrosio were crossing the room toward the door. When I looked at the mirror, however, I saw only shadows reflected there—dark, wispy shapes. I had seen those shadows before.
I looked back at Buddie.
“Now we wait,” he said.
I nodded. “Now we wait.”
Jamie led me down a twisting hallway of narrow corridors until we reached room 195. To our surprise, Rumor, Katya, and an unknown man were leaning over Ian. They all turned when we entered.
“Ah, here is Ms. Katana,” Rumor said with a condescending smile.
The man leaning over Ian stood up. He turned and looked piercingly at us. His pale blue eyes were bulging behind thick glasses; a stethoscope hung from his neck. The three of them looked at us inquisitively.
“He’s my brother,” Jamie explained, motioning to Ian.
At the sound of Jamie’s voice, Ian woke. “Jamie?” he called.
Jamie passed the others and took Ian’s hand. Rumor sat down on the bed beside Ian. So close to her, I could smell Rumor’s heavy perfume. She smelled as nice as she looked.
“How are you feeling?” Jamie asked.
Ian looked confused. “Where is Dr. Madala?”
“It’s very late, Ian. He’s gone to bed. I’m Dr. Rostov,” the man answered.
Ian looked at Katya and then at Rumor. I could see his eyes widen as he took her in.
“These are our hosts,” I explained to Ian. I was leaning against the door frame.
“Layla? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“You are Ian, eh?” Rumor said, taking his hand. “Oh, so strong,” she added, stroking his hand. “What is the matter here?” Rumor asked Dr. Rostov.
“Cancer,” he replied.
Rumor then caught sight of Ian’s tattoo. “This is very unique. What does it mean?” she asked.
Ian looked toward me.
I looked at the ground, tapping the toe of my boot on the floor.