Page 24 of The Darkness is Calling
“A few weeks,” she says, thinking I mean how long is left until the wedding. “And if I come up with any idea to get you out of this entire situation, I’ll do it. Believe me, I think about that more often than what dress I’m going to wear that day.”
“You’re the maid of honor. You already tried on the dress.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this unenthusiastic about a wedding. Not even when my father remarried five years ago to wife number three, who was only a little older than me,” she says, bitterness sharpening her voice.
“You and I are on the same page,” I add, smacking my lips in the same sad tone.
I push the dresser back into place with my hip, and this time the background noise catches her attention.
“What are you doing over there?” she asks, intrigued.
“Looking for little gifts that were left for me around the room.”
“Gifts?” she asks, confused. “Jewelry or something?”
I huff, but I can already feel my breathing growing heavier from all the moving around.
“Not quite that precious. But they are just as small.”
“What the hell are you... Wait!” she exclaims loudly, almost outraged. “They planted microphones in your room?”
“Yep,” I say, popping the p loudly.
“I can’t believe it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a hidden camera somewhere too.”
I clench my teeth, then my eyes, drawing in a deep breath.
Slowly, I let the air out and open my eyes, which could very well be full of flames with how furious I am right now. I am fully convinced my friend is right, and my bedroom is equipped with those kinds of accessories too.
“I wouldn’t be surprised either,” I say through my teeth, scanning the room for seemingly innocent objects that could be hiding such a device.
Damn it.
Even the TV has a tiny light in one corner that could be a built-in surveillance camera.
I think I am losing my mind, and I haven’t even been here for three hours. For that exact reason, my next move is worthy of an insane person, because I leave the room and go straight to the Pakhan’s office to interrogate him.
“Oksana, can we talk later, please? I have something to discuss with the small birds living in this nest.”
She doesn’t miss the reference I make to the organization’s name, the Birds of Darkness, and it makes her whistle softly.
“Yikes... Please be careful. You know they’re not people to joke around with.”
“Neither am I.”
I hurry down the marble stairs, covered in the center with an anti-slip runner, while dragging my fingers along the glossy, black-painted wooden railing.
The dominant shades in this house do not surprise me at all. Black and charcoal gray, contrasted here and there with light gray tones, clean architectural lines, and furniture as simple as possible. Even though the style is contemporary, traditional Slavic elements are visible in the frames of the large paintings on the staircase wall and in the decorative objects placed throughout my room.
Objects that could very well be hiding surveillance cameras.
The large, solid wood door to his office is closed.
I hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding hard in my chest, but I gather my courage and knock on it with my fist, while in my other hand I hold the three microphones I have found so far.
He doesn’t answer.
Not even after I knock harder, taken over by the frustration growing with every second this confrontation is delayed. I want to shout, scream, hit something, but there is no one here to take it.
