Page 51 of The Satyr's Guilt
Jace closed the book, her fingers holdingthe place. “They’re late.”
Celene savored Jace’s voice, memorizing it,knowing it might be the last time she heard it. She glanced at theclock on the wall. “Only a few minutes. Keep going.”
For about a year, the women had beenprisoners in this two-bedroom house. Jace de Vries was kidnappedreturning home from her job at a New Paltz, NY, winery. She’d beenlocked in a cellar before being transferred here.
Celene Bailey, on the other hand, was anheiress hooked on extreme sports and near-death thrills. In fact,that was how she’d gotten caught. Having base jumped Angel Falls inVenezuela, she hit the landing zone only to have a bag tossed overher head. Next stop, monster central.
But they did not blindly accept captivity.With tap water running, the mixer whirring, and loud hip hopplaying, they schemed. They developed their own sign language, aversion of charades. Early in their captivity, they tried tooverpower their guards. Not possible. When they failed, they wenton a hunger strike. The revolt earned them a new warden and a fewextra privileges. Now, they had an escape plan.
A digital ping interrupted Jace’s reading.The outside door swung open.
Celene gulped.
Great. He has to be the biggest guard. Hopehe didn’t sleep well last night.
“Let’s go,” he grumbled.
Setting the book on the side table, Jacesmoothed a hand over the cover.
The guard wasn’t much on chitchat. What helacked in that area, he made up for in size. He was a mountain of aman, thick necked, beefy shouldered, and no conscience.
The two women bounced from the couch,already dressed for exercise in the yard. Sweats, T-shirts,tennies.
Celene nodded at Jace, clasping her hand.Today was a go. They followed the guard outside where each womantook a deep breath of fresh air.
The hulk settled into his usual seat nearbyas Celene set the pace for their daily run on the makeshift track,taking a long lead. In seconds, Jace caught up with her.
Two laps. Three laps. Seven laps.
Celene glanced at the guard who slouched inthe chair with his legs stretched out, his lids closed.
Not breathing hard, Jace said, “Let’s dothirty laps today.”
The hulk stirred, pulling up a littlestraighter, his hearing sharp but his head rolling back as heresumed dozing.
Celene marked his movements, hoping theirinane banter would lull him into a deep sleep. “Thirty’s great.What do you think of the parables inThe Path?”
They fell easily into conversation about thebook, using parts of it as code for their plans.
“I like the one which begins with ‘Looknorth and see the way.’”
“Great one, Jace. I’m particularly fond ofhow the philosopher urges his followers to lift themselves up andovercome the obstacles before finding a new path.”
“Are you sure, Celene?”
“Yes, I am. The Cambion talks of love. Ilove you like a sister, Jace. You’re someone I depend on.”
On the lap around the track, her roomiebobbed her head toward the eight-foot wall on the north side oftheir exercise yard. “Overcome your obstacles and move on. It iswhat Ohngel told the great warlock.”
As part of the agreement to end the hungerstrike, Lort, their vampire warden, added a gym where they spenthours lifting weights, strengthening their arms, building muscle.They chucked each other off the ground as part of a gymnasticsroutine. Just a step into a hand and up and over. They ran lapsevery day. Their legs were strong. Their arms stronger. They wereas ready as they would ever be.
Today, as they ran side-by-side, Jacesqueezed Celene’s hand. “Keep reading until I come for you.”
Now or never.
Jace had been a runner in high school andcollege. She’d even broken some state record. Celene was thenatural choice to stay put. Having lived seeking danger, the nextthrill, she could deal with the creatures while Jace sprinted tofreedom. Her roomie didn’t like the arrangement but eventuallyunderstood it was the right one.
As they rounded the bend near the northwall, Celene glanced at the guard who remained asleep. She noddedat her partner.
