Anna added, “Better than war, you know?”
Alya said nothing more. Mikhail said nothing. He wanted them to go, but they just stood around. Apparently they intended to stay out there until the last possible moment. Close to writhing with impatience, he forced himself to be still and profoundly uninteresting. They had to leave. If they left, Alya might be able to escape. The awkward silence grew and grew until the parents began to look like they might go inside, but then the boy plopped himself on the corner of the table.
“So, does that A on your chest stand for asshole?”
Alya let loose a long, trilling cry, as wild as a coyote’s, but far more menacing. Mikhail’s hair stood on end. The Halversons instinctively moved closer together. At the end of it, Alya gulped a huge mouthful of air and began to chant—pray—rant—he didn’t know what, because it was in Arabic. It sounded like a curse. Her chains creaked and groaned as she rocked against them, her words fast and husky with emotion.
Anna Halverson mustered a weak smile. “Well, time for us to go in.”
Mikhail twisted to see Alya. She leaned against her chains, snarling and spitting as she screamed, her eyes burning. He’d go inside, too.
“Wish it could have been otherwise,” Halverson said to him.
“No you don’t,” Mikhail said. “If you did you’d let us go.”
“Got me there.” He touched his forehead in a brief salute and ushered his family off the roof.
“Have a nice day,” Anna called from behind him.
When the door slammed closed, Alya stopped ranting. “I thought they’d gloat until we were ash.”
“What did you curse them with?”
“I don’t know any curses. I was just making shit up.”
Mikhail grinned. He enjoyed smiling, now that he’d remembered how to do it. “How long until sunrise, do you think?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“That building to the east will shade us from the first rays, give us a few minutes more. Can you get out?”
Alya had always been an escape artist. When she was a teen, she’d had a poster of Houdini on her bedroom wall. Every bit of his hope rested on this memory.
“I’m working on it. What about that thing they’ve got you in? It looks like they bought it at a Star Trek convention.”
“Wish they had. I know this manufacturer. These are state-of-the-art locking mechanisms. They can’t be picked or broken.”
“What if I smashed your hands and feet? Could we pull them through the cuffs?”
His toes curled at the idea, but he liked her thinking. She would have been a good wife for him.
“Not going to work here. The cuffs contract automatically. They keep constant pressure on whatever is inside them.”
“Fucking hell.” He didn’t know if she meant his situation, or if she was just struggling with her chains.
“Alya, what are the odds you can escape?”
“Not too bad. I’m going to dislocate my shoulder. I don’t see any cameras. Do you?”
“No, but they could be around. We could be miked. There could be lookouts in the adjacent buildings.”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” He heard her grunt and a length of chain clanked to the ground. “Progress.”
“Excellent.” If she could escape, he knew what he had to do. The horizon glowed purple. “I’m going to finish the story.”
“Roland and Illysia? Now? Ow! Son of a bitch.”
“You’ll understand.” Mikhail rushed through the story as fast as he could. “Roland found her at last. She’d taken shelter in a monastery. He came to her a walking skeleton, repentant as hell, but he came too late. She was dying.”
“Dying?” Another chain hit the ground.
“She’d eaten poison mushrooms. It doesn’t matter. Point is she accepted Roland’s apology. And she gave him a choice. Either die with her, or drink of her and be free.”
“‘Drinking of her’ is what fucked him over to begin with.”
“The choice she offered was to drink her to the dregs. Take her soul.”
“He wasn’t a prince, she wasn’t a combatant. He had no right to do that.”
“He was her bound mate. Listen to me. One mate can free themselves from the bond by exing the other.”
Even the chains went silent while she considered that.
“You understand? If you swallow the soul, you won’t pine for it.”
In a quiet voice she said, “You could have done that right off. You could have finished me by the pool and walked away.”
Mikhail jerked against his cuffs in frustration. “No! Well, yes. I could have. But that’s not the point right now. Not at all.”
“Hold on a second. I’ve almost got it.” Then lower, to herself she said, “This is going to hurt.” He heard a soft pop, and she shouted, “Motherfucker! Cocksucking Minnesotans! Goddamn them!”
Suddenly she was above him cradling her arm, tightlipped with pain, but free. “Open your hand,” she said. “Hold this.” She put her elbow in his palm. He clamped his fingers around it, and she used the leverage to pop her arm back in its socket.
When it was done she sighed and smiled at him gratefully. The beauty of her smile took his breath.
Her gaze lingered a beat too long on his face, and then she turned away, coloring. She made a show of trying out her arm. “All better. Now how are we going to get you out of this?”
“You’re not.”
“No?”
“Adrenaline can only get you so far. You have no weapons.”
“I’ll take a length of chain.”
“And they have guns.”
“Maybe they cleared out. Maybe there’s no one down there.”
“I doubt it. They won’t go until they know we’re ash.”
“But I need Halverson to open this lock.”
“Give it up. I want you to think about yourself. How are you going to make it past them? Think. They’ll be in there, the three Halversons and five others that I know of, probably more. All men. All strong. And you’ve been tapped, Tasered, shot—”
By me. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his head against the table.
“Mikhail!” She slid her hand beneath his head. “Don’t. I’m going to get you out.”
“No. You’re not. This is my fault. I’m going to get you out. Listen to me.” He held her eyes. She had to understand. “You’re going to make Roland’s Choice. You’re going to ex me.”
She blanched.
“It will give you the strength you need to get out of here. And if you take my soul, you’ll not suffer afterward.”
“Not suffer?” She shook her head. “No. That’s not even an option.”
“I’ll live on inside you.”
“I’ll get Halverson. I’ll make him—”
“Alyaushka.” He used his old pet name for her. “I know how strong you are, but you’re outmanned and outgunned.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Then we’ll both die.”
“You underestimate me.”
“I understand odds. You know it’s the only logical plan. Tap my strength. Get out of here, however you can. Go home, get your men, call my family and rain hell down on these people.”
She stared at him, trying to break his resolve, but he just stared back, knowing he was right. Somewhere, a bird began its morning song.
“There is no time!”
Alya turned toward the mountains, as if some last hope might be found there. A second later she turned back, her jaw set. “Okay.”
Mikhail let out the breath he’d been holding.
She leaned over and kissed him fiercely, her hands deep in his hair. This was right. It would work.
She climbed up on the table and crouched over his body. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to do this.”
“Lust.”
They’d both ex’d at the climax of a fight. The passion of violence helped drop the inhibitions against cannibalism. Lust would work the same way.