Chapter the next

I looked down at the bowl of stew. "Y'got half an hour to eat it and den I'll be back." The blond that I had mentally dubbed Mulleta told me..

"Joy," I responded, looking at the two utensils that were stick out of the brown sludge. One was a fork and the other was a spoon. I didn't question the logic if it. I had found that the Rippers were sorely lacking in that area.

I lifted the spoon to my lips and licked the gravy off of it, setting it on the desk. The gravy was gloppy and the meat was mostly gristle, but I had eaten worse in my day..

I ate hurriedly. My room didn't have a clock and I didn't have a watch, so I was relying on my sense of time, which was rarely accurate and since the Rippers seemed also to be under the impression that lunch was nicety I hadn't had anything to eat since eight in the morning.

As I sat, contemplating my empty bowl and silverware, an idea began forming in my mind. I wiped the last of the gravy off of the spoon and slipped it under my pillow and then I sat staring at the wood grain, hoping that someone other than Mulleta would come take the dish.

Lucky for me, the door to my room was opened and silently someone took away that had been resting at my elbow away.

I didn't even bother to look up and just continued to stare at the wood grain. Even I closed my eyes; I could still see that wood grain. I was beginning to detest it.

Once upon a time, I had made friends with a rather shady character and they had showed me how to make and a lock pick. I had never had time to try it, but it was better than sitting there and staring at the damn wood grain.

I slipped my hand under the pillow and pulled out the spoon. I began rubbing the bottom of the handle where it met the bowl of the spoon with two of fingers. I rubbed until my fingers started to burn, touching it with my pinky showed that the metal was warm. I switched to my left hand and kept rubbing until the metal was soft and then I bent the spoon.

I let my fingers rest and started the process all over again towards the top of the handle this time.

My fingers were red and in some places raw, but I had a pick and a possible way out. I crouched near the door, pressing my ear to it. As soon as it seemed peaceful in the hallway I slid the end of the handle into the space between the door and it's frame, grasping the spoon end I slid it down until it was close to the stop. I closed one eye and worked against the lock. Slowly pushing against the tumbler, I reached up for the door handle and twisted and the door swung open.

"Yes!" I breathed, closing the door behind me and taking the spoon pick with me. "Out."

Well sort of.

If things went as they had the day before, no one would check on me until the next day only to be met with an empty room, so really all I had to do was keep out of sight and somehow get a boat or escape someway.

Standing in the middle of the hallway was not a smart idea. I heard voices and quickly looked around and found what I hoped was a closet and opened the door and slipped inside. A linen closet that hadn't been used in awhile, if the dust was anything to go by.

I held my breath as the footsteps grew louder until I could see the feet tramping along from the slit under the door. Then they faded just as suddenly they had come and I let my breath out in a whoosh.

All right. So now what I suppose to do? I was in a closet and was as much a prisoner as I had been moments ago and it would be worse once they found out I was missing and they went to search every nook and cranny.

But I wasn't one to give up so easily on something I wanted.

So what to do, what to do?

I began slowly getting to my feet and knocked my head against the lowest board. It sprang up thudding against the board above it, knocking that one slightly askew. I grabbed the board before it hit the ground and stood in utter terror, waiting for at least ten Rippers to descend on my hiding place.

But after a few heart wrenching moments and nothing happened, I relaxed and began to breath again. As I took in my second deep, calming breath, my nose caught something different. Fresh air? But where could fresh air be coming from? Wherever it was, it might be a way out.

I took a step back farther into the deep closet and my foot struck the floor. I blinked and brought my heel back down again. Hollow that section of the floor was hollow and from the very back of the closet was where the air was coming from. I fell on hands and knees and with much pushing and shoving managed to push the door open wide enough for me to drop down onto the stairs below.

I had no idea where it might go, but something was better than nothing right?

As I stood there contemplating the darkness, I heard what sounded like a familiar voice. I froze straining my ears for another word.

"Where is she, Ripper? Because, homme, I swear if y're tryin' t'be funny? Where is she really?"

"I don' know, LeBeau! Put me down!"

"I t'ink not." Something slammed up against the closet door, surprising me so much that I fell down the newly revealed staircase. My head bumped against a stair. "What was dat?" Julien demanded.

"Ripper, M' not finished wi't y' yet!" Remy said. I pushed myself up on my knees and started down the stairs, away from Julien hopefully.1