Sophie Littlefield - Banished

In the gleaming lobby, the guard nodded and smiled at Prairie. Clearly, he recognized her from past visits. Bryce must not have told the guard that she was no longer welcome. As we got to the elevators, Prairie leaned in close to me, close enough that I could see the fine network of lines around her eyes, the deep purple smudges beneath them. She looked so tired.

“It’s almost over,” she said quietly, and I wondered if she was trying to reassure herself as much as me.

The elevator glided smoothly to the top floor. We walked down a softly lit, carpeted hallway. There were only two apartments, the penthouses. Prairie slid her key in the lock and the last possible obstacle was removed-not that Bryce would have had time to change the locks, but I had learned to take nothing for granted.

The door opened on a beautiful if sparsely furnished apartment. The midday sun sparkled off tabletops, wood floors, a vase of tulips. Sleek furniture was arranged around a richly patterned rug.

Everything looked normal. Inviting, even. My shoulders practically sagged with relief. At last it felt like we had reached the end of our journey.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Prairie said, going to the desk in the den off the main room and starting to gather up papers.

Kaz put out his arm and I leaned into him, letting him support me, breathing in the comforting scent of clean laundry and soap. As my eyes fluttered shut, I wondered if it would be possible for me to fall asleep standing up, because I felt like I could sleep forever.

That was when the voice called out.

“Mr. Safian?”

It was a woman’s voice, heavily accented, like Anna’s but far closer to its speaker’s Polish roots. I froze as Kaz stiffened at my side. Prairie dropped the papers in her hands.

The voice came from behind a closed door in the apartment’s long hallway. I looked at Prairie questioningly.

“Guest room,” she whispered.

I started toward it, but she stopped me, a warning hand on my arm.

“She’s Banished,” I said. I sensed it, even through the closed door, even across the distance. The stirring of the blood, the heightening of my senses, it was all there.

“Mr. Safian!” the voice said again, now wailing. “You leave me all night. Mr. Safian!”

“It’s her,” Kaz said. “The one I saw in the vision. It has to be.”

“We don’t know,” Prairie said. “We can’t be sure-”

“You not come back, you promise come back, you not come back, I am so scared.” The voice broke down in sobs as Prairie’s hand tightened on my arm. “Please don’t be angry, Mr. Safian. We will do your work. No more fight, no more resist. We do what you ask. Now you bring my sisters, yes? Now you bring my sisters back to me?”

Sophie Littlefield is the author of several thrillers for adults, including A Bad Day for Sorry . She lives with her family in Northern California. Visit her online at www.sophielittlefield.com.