Stolen Souls

56

GALYA’S THROAT TIGHTENED against the sickly salt tang. She coughed, but couldn’t expel the towel from her mouth. For a few moments she thought she might vomit, and the idea of choking here in this cellar terrified her as much as anything she had experienced in the previous twenty-four hours.

She forced herself to breathe deep through her nose, letting the oxygen flood her mind, dampening the panic enough to allow her to think. She thought she had endured all the fear she could, more than she would ever have thought possible. It might have been easier had sanity deserted her, but her mind clung on, even though it seemed it could do her no good.

But then the madman left her, and hope stole back in. For a moment she cursed it, wished she could banish it from her consciousness, but still it came.

Once more, Galya prayed to her grandmother’s departed soul. She screwed her eyes shut and begged Mama for some miracle, some way out, anything. Her prayers had gone unheeded up to now, but she offered them regardless.

Tears stole her vision as she opened her eyes. She blinked hard and felt the hot lines on her cheeks. The haze cleared, but only for a moment, because what she saw caused yet more tears to fill her sight.

A man, tall and broad, coming down the steps, his big hands ready to free her.

Galya Petrova wept for joy, thanked Mama’s soul, and offered one last prayer.

Please, Mama, let him be real.