“Sleep, sleep,” she whispered into it. “Deep sleep, eyes closed, ears shut, body heavy, mind numb, dreams taking over. So dreamy. So comfortable. So warm and soft. Dreaming—you’re dreaming. This is all a dream.”
She lifted her other hand. The bottle of water floated lightly to her without spilling a drop. She poured a thin, steady stream in the hole, right onto Sage’s head, speaking low and rhythmically.
“Look at this water. I’m so thirsty and it looks so clean and pure, and it’ll make me feel better. I’ll drink it right now.” Abigail emptied a quarter of the bottle onto Sage’s head, then withdrew her finger, and the magical energy flowed back onto itself, closing the hole.
“Kilwateschi,” she said, extinguishing the flame.
She held up the nearly empty bottle of water and squeezed it. It magically re-filled from the bottom. When it was full, she commanded the cap to her and capped the bottle, then tapped it once with the flat of her hand. It clicked, loud in the silence, and plastic seemed to grow out from the bottom, creating a seal.
Abigail picked up her lituus and pointed it at the water bottle.Vvystrushed to her from all around the room, evencoming up out of her own pockets, wrapping the water bottle in a cocoon. Abigail flicked her lituus up and the magical energy followed her hand, flowed along her lituus, and lifted the small cocoon until it floated over her head like a balloon with a shimmery string. Abigail found Sage’s clothes, cocooned them, and floated them in the air next to the water bottle.
She made her way to well number seven and picked through the eyeballs until she found some tiny black ones—mouse eyeballs. Mouse eyeballs didn’t last long, but they weren’t easily detected either. She selected several and put them in her pocket.
She pointed her lituus at Sage then flicked it up. Sage’s cocoon effortlessly lifted up next to the others. Abigail directed all of them into the rotation room. She walked in and sat on the chair. The room spun. When it stopped, she made her way through the treatment suite to the second bedroom. She put a hand on the lock, and it opened.
Inside was a bathroom and an actual circus cage big enough to hold a lion… or a person.
Abigail floated Sage inside the cage and dumped her on the floor, dropping her clothes near her. She floated the bottle of water inside and set it up carefully near where she thought Sage’s head was. Once all was in place, she locked the cage up tight, using the door lock, a padlock on a chain, and several magical locks.
Abigail went to the doorway and placed a mouse eyeball at floor height, looking up at the cocoon. She placed another eyeball on the other side of the doorway, facing the first. She placed another in the hallway facing the second, and then she plodded down the hallway to get as far away from Sage as possible so Sage wouldn’t sense her. At the far wall, she lowered her hand suddenly like she was slapping the air, and all the lights in the suite turned off. She took two more eyeballs out of herpocket and stuck them together, back-to-back, then held them in her palm.
“Dim,” she commanded. Her body and everything on it wavered, becoming dark and shadowy, making her feel like she was floating, and not quite there.
She lifted the eyeballs to her eye and looked into the pupil of one. It could see out the pupil of the other, and that one could see down the hallway to the one stuck on the doorframe, which could see what the one that was facing the cage could see.
Abigail poked a finger at the vision she saw through the trail of eyeballs. “Kilwateschi,” she whispered. Her voice was distorted by her state, but the magical energy knew what to do.
The cocoon trembled, then pieces of it dropped to the floor and scurried into the corners to collect. Within thirty seconds, Sage lay naked on the floor of the cage, her limbs pulled in close to her body.
“Wake,” Abigail whispered, then quickly switched her focus to the water bottle, which was all she wanted Sage to see.
Sage moved slightly. She groaned. She put her hands to her head, and then she sat up. Her eyes were on the water.
“Look at this water,” she said in a stilted voice. “I’m so thirsty and it looks so clean and pure, and it’ll make me feel better. I’ll drink it right now.”
She lifted the water, cracked the seal, and had a drink.
“More,” Abigail mouthed without making any noise.
Sage drank half the bottle, and then it slipped from her hand. She folded over slowly, drifting down to the floor, eyes closing.
“Perfect,” Abigail whispered.
She held the mouse eyeballs up to her shoulder for her cask to eat, then hurried back down the hallway into the room, plucking and offering each eyeball as she passed it. At the cage, she unlocked the door and went inside. She righted the waterbottle, then pulled a roll of candle wick from a pocket. She tied one end around Sage’s big toe, then unwound it and dipped the other end in the bottle of water. She shut the cap tight, securing the wick in place, then put the bottle next to Sage.
She left the cage and locked it up tight, then turned around to check over her work. Sage was out like a light and would not wake until the wick was removed from the water, which Abigail wouldn’t do until Sunday afternoon. Everything was in order.
Good. She left the room, leaving Sage to her unnatural sleep.
53—Abandon Trap
Canyon hiked along the forest trail, his mind working overtime. In front of him, Timber tracked the scent of the males, “Six,” and “Thirteen.” Behind him, Predator wheeled along quietly. Darkness was falling fast, bringing freezing temperatures, but Canyon was warm.
They moved in silence for ten minutes, Timber taking seemingly random turns, cutting them through the underbrush and onto various trails. Canyon caught thin scents of forest animals, and of the two males, but he left the tracking to Timber, who was better at it. Ahead, Timber stepped left off the path. Canyon followed him, pushing through leaves and branches to follow, with Predator slipping under.
After a minute, Canyon found his brother standing on another trail, a grassy one wide enough for an ATV. Timber had a hand over his mouth, his stance alert. Canyon nodded and stopped short, listening and scenting.
They’re close,Timber said, then he went down the trail for twenty paces. Timber stopped abruptly, staring at something—a wooden sign made from a rough piece of lumber and topped with an arrow-shaped board. INN was painted on the board and the arrow pointed down a slim, dark, deer trail.
