It was two hours later, Sarain paced in the room, back and forth, waiting for Winston’s return. After some more conversation, Winston had decided to hit up his connection for the explosives; they hadn’t decided when exactly to go with the plan, but knew they should do it soon, and that they needed to be prepared first.
Sarain waited and worried for his return. If this was going to work then Winston would be essential to her plan, and she couldn’t risk him getting caught now. He was taking longer than she expected, and with each minute that went by, Sarain was becoming more edgy of this plan with all the possible loop holes of things that could go wrong.
A knock on the door broke Sarain’s train of thought. Was it Winston? No, in walked one of the women. A brunette, the same one from the night before.
She stepped into the room and softly said to Sarain, “I thought you might be hungry; you’ve been here for a while and haven’t eaten.”
Sarain searched her thoughts and realized that she hadn’t eaten for more than a day. So she nodded and said, “Yes, I guess I could eat something.”
And to her surprise she watched as the woman pulled back the collar of her shirt, exposing an old bite mark.
“What are you doing?” Sarain abruptly asked.
“Letting you feed,” the brunette answered in confusion.
“I am not a vil sang!” Sarain shouted at her.
The woman let go of her collar and stammered, “But you’re with Winston, and your eyes!”
Sarain felt completely appalled to be mistaken for a demon. She yelled at the woman saying, “I am not ‘with’ Winston. As for my eyes…” Then she realized that that was exactly what she looked like; with her strange feature and her unholy company, she herself would have easily mistaken her for a vil sang. So she softened her voice when she finally finished by saying, “My eyes are just my eyes. They’re because of something else, and not because of ‘that’.”
Sarain was finding that perhaps she stood out so much when trying to blend in, because she was more than human. The people in her clan were trained to be and do so much more than what the average person aspired to. And even her own mother had achieved such a high honor when she was born with the ability to heal, something Sarain could only do to herself, unlike her mother who could heal anyone of many different afflictions. Her clan had worshipped her mother, not only for being the chief’s daughter, but for delivering them from so many ailments. It was an extremely grievous day when she died.
And now there was Sarain, daughter of a healer, granddaughter of a chief and great warrior, sole survivor of her clan; it was no wonder why she didn’t fit in. But still, getting mistaken for a vil sang was disturbing to her.
Sarain looked at the woman, who stood there awkwardly, and grasped that there was something else about this brunette, other than her ability to make Sarain uncomfortable, that had been bothering her in the back of her mind. And after seeing the old bite marks on her neck, Sarain realized what is was, this was the woman she had seen Winston with that one night.
Sarain wondered if the woman had feelings for Winston. She hadn’t greeted Winston or shown him any special interest the night before in the lobby. But in the moment she had stated that she thought Sarain was with him, Sarain had noticed a look in the woman’s eyes, like envy.
The woman never appeared to recognize Sarain, so she must have never seen her that night, and Sarain’s staring was making her uneasy, so Sarain finally asked her, “Could you bring me some real food?”
The brunette nodded yes to her and quickly left to do so. Sarain sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. There was so much that needed to be done, and she hated having to hide there and wait. She knew that it was probably only a matter of days until she took on Sephor’s army, and even with Winston’s help, she couldn’t see the fight being successful. There were too many; more than two people could take. She knew that even a clan of warriors couldn’t take on a properly trained demon army. But this wouldn’t stop her from trying. She would fight till the day she died, even if the day was soon.
Sarain wondered if Winston would stay fighting by her side or if he would run; perhaps he had already fled. She was still waiting for his return, and he had been the one to bring up running. Winston might not be coming back.
Another hour went by, still no Winston. Sarain had eaten, but the food had been delivered to her by another woman, a red head; the brunette must have been too embarrassed to come back. Sarain found it a bit amusing that a woman in such a line of work would get embarrassed so easily.
Sarain had asked for yet another change of clothes. This time she was more specific for comfortable non-revealing clothing. But the red head told her that they didn’t have anything like that lying around, the best she could do for her was a robe to cover up with. Sarain put it on and was at least glad to have something on over the thin silk of the nightgown she wore.
Sarain looked up at a clock on the wall, it was half past ten. She couldn’t sit around anymore, she had to do something. She got up, and went for the door. Her hand reached for the knob, when it suddenly turned, and the door opened. Sarain jumped back to miss the swing of the door, and standing on the other side was Winston.
“Oh” he said a little surprised, “Were you leaving?”
“I got tired of waiting,” Sarain replied, then added, “And I wasn’t sure that you were coming back.”
He looked slightly disappointed, but said, “I wouldn’t just abandon you like that. I know you need my help, even if you are too proud to admit it.” He walked into the room, closing the door behind him, and said, “I’m sorry it took so long, but dynamite has to be transported carefully. Besides, I also stopped to get you this.”
He held up a bag, and then tossed it to Sarain. She caught it and looked inside. It was a plain black shirt and black slacks. Winston smiled at her and said, “I figured that was more your taste than that enticing number you’ve been wearing.”
Sarain gripped her robe shut; she knew that nightgown would bring unwanted attention, but she was grateful for the modest clothes. She looked up at Winston and said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugged and replied, “Well I needed you to be in something that you could fight in. I also picked us up some weapons.”
“Were you followed?” Sarain blurted out immediately.
“I don’t think so, besides, they probably think that we’ve left town. It would be the more logical thing to do,” Winston said like he was trying to persuade her.
“Well then they don’t realize just how dedicated to my mission I am,” Sarain stated while staring down at her new clothes.
He gave Sarain a worried look that she didn’t see, and replied, “I guess not.”