Page 18 of Blood Red Woes

Oh, sorry,soul gem.

It can’t be that long, if he still knows all this about Laconia, but at the same time, I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like, being trapped in there, by himself, for years and years. Long enough for anyone to lose their mind.

I sit up and swing my legs off the side of the bed. “I have to get home,” I whisper. “I can’t stay here.” Whatever problems this place has, no offense, they are their own. They’re not mine. Why should I care?

“Forgive me for saying this,” Rune pauses, as if he’s being careful with his wording—a first, “but from what you’ve told me about your life, it sounds as if you don’t have much to go back to. Are you certain you want to return to your world? Perhaps you’d be better off here.”

“Where they think I’m some demon? No, thanks. Besides, my life back home might not be the greatest, but at least it’s mine.” I think back to the picture of my dad I left, sitting on my bed. God, I hope Frank doesn’t throw it out.

I may have made mistakes—quite a few lately—but it’s still my life, and I’d be damned if I just walk away from it like nothing happened. This place isn’t my home. It will never be my home.

I need Rune off me and I need to find a way back. That’s it. Those are my only two goals, and if I have to sacrifice one, it’ll be getting Rune off me. My biggest goal is to get the fuck home.

“Well, then I suppose we need to break out of here,” Rune mumbles. “We need to be smart about it, however. Not draw any excess attention to ourselves—”

Right as Rune says it, the sounds of the lock on my door start to jiggle, like someone’s messing with it. I hop to my feet and spread them wide, a fighting stance, I think, and I get ready to bust whoever’s ass is about to come through that door. Rune turns black on my wrist and hand once more, though the moment I whip up some magic, he’ll get all sparkly again.

I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m not that kind of person. But they locked me up and basically said they didn’t know what to do with me. It’s way past the time for fight or flight; there’s only one thing left to do.

Raise hell.

The longer the sounds last, the more I realize it doesn’t sound like someone inserting a key. If a key is being used, the door would already be open. No. This sounds like someone’s picking the lock.

Something unlatches, and then the door swings open to reveal who’s on the other side.

I stare, slack-jawed, at one of the kids I saw running around the marketplace earlier. Her dirty face stares up at me from beneath her hood, and she reaches under her cloak and throws a bundle of cloth at me. I barely catch it, too stunned that this girl, who can’t be older than ten or eleven, is breaking me out.

“Who—” I start, but the girl lifts a finger to her dirty lips to silence me. I glance at the bundle she tossed me and see it’s some kind of hooded cape that mimics the one she’s wearing.

Ah, well. What do I have to lose? I wanted out of this cell anyway. Might as well take all the help I can get.

I put the cape on, lift the hood over my head, and tie the string tight around my neck so it doesn’t fall off. I walk toward the girl and whisper, “Lead the way.” However she got in here is how we’d need to get out.

She turns and leads me away from the cell—though I do stop to close my cell door so it looks like I’m still in there before I follow her. As long as we aren’t seen, it’d buy us a bit more time.

The girl is silent as she leads me along. Down the hall we go. It seems like we’re taking the normal way out, which means we’re going to come across guards very soon. I hope this girl knows what she’s doing, but if not, I ready myself to kick some ass.

Right when I feel the need to summon up some golden magic, we pass a pair of guards sitting at a table, totally unconscious. Their figures are slouched, their bare heads bent down to the table. Helmets off, sitting to the side, it looks like they were eating something before they passed out.

Did this girl give them spiked food? Shit. That’s hardcore. Mad respect for this girl, whoever she is. If all the guards are passed out like this, she and I can walk right out of here like we own the place.

Of course, it doesn’t occur to me that she has to be doing this for a reason, which means she must want something from me. One thing at a time.

The girl knows exactly where to go, even though all of the hallways blend together and look the same. When we emerge into the night, finally free of the place, she pulls me to a set of barrels just before a city guard walks by, totally unaware there’s a jailbreak going on. The guard stops about fifteen feet away from the barrels to yawn, and then he resumes his scheduled route through the city.

That’s our cue to go.

The girl is knowledgeable about the side-streets and the routes the guards take. We’re able to masterfully dodge them without too many close encounters. By the time we head down the steps that separate the higher, richer district from the markets, we’re pretty much in the clear. We don’t see any guards patrolling the markets, and I doubt there’s any where the regular people live.

The wall and the rich assholes’ homes; that’s all they care about keeping safe. Let’s be real. Things like that don’t change world to world, I guess.

“What’s your name?” I ask as we walk through the shadowy marketplace.

“Prim,” the girl says, glancing at me from under her hood.

“Thanks for getting me out of there, Prim. I’m Rey.”

“Frederick says you can walk through shadowstorms. Can you?” I wouldn’t say Prim sounds hopeful, but that’s as close to it as a word could be.

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