The Virgin Madam (Dark Star Doms Book 5)

by Ivy Barrett

  The rebellious thought followed her into sleep, shaping her dreams as her gift took hold of her subconscious. She was aware that she was dreaming, which seemed odd. Dreams were usually surreal and changeable things that evaporated like mist once she woke.

  This was different, darker and far more acute. She felt rough timber beneath her bare feet and smelled smoke in the warm night air. Long, pale hair streamed over her face, partially obscuring her vision. She raised her hand, meaning to tuck her hair behind her ear, but the hand she raised was not hers. The hand was tiny and grubby, a child’s hand. She looked down and found a girl’s thin body as well. Her being was in someone else! Astral projection or memory sharing, this was different than any dream she’d ever had before.

  Accepting the situation with a deep breath, she looked around, trying to understand the purpose for the images. She was in a rustic room, little bigger than a closet. The only furniture was a rickety stool, a straw-stuffed mattress and a bucket. She crept closer to the bucket, the smell preparing her for what she would find. If the child was forced to answer nature’s call in the bucket, she must be locked inside the room.

  She rushed to the door and confirmed that it was locked. The wooden shutters over the window opened, but bars were affixed to the outside of the glassless window opening. It was all so primitive, so barbaric.

  “Melissa, are you awake?”

  The muffled voice seemed to be coming from the wall nearest the makeshift bed, so Tamara knelt on the pallet and searched for a knothole or a space between the boards. “Hello?”

  “Quietly, don’t let them hear us talking or they’ll lock you in the shed again.”

  “I’m scared,” Tamara whispered. It seemed to be a logical reaction for a child in this situation.

  “I’m here, Missy. I’ll never leave you, no matter what they do to me.”

  Through a sliver of an opening Tamara caught a glimpse of the other girl. She was not much older than Melissa, with long white-blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. It stood to reason that the girls were related. And Tamara was nearly certain whose past she was reliving. Melissa. Missy. Misty Blue? It was a natural progression.

  She searched for a larger opening, trying to determine what all this meant. A sucking sensation erupted in response to her need for understanding. Melissa’s thoughts and emotions threaded through hers. She pulled back, allowing the girl to control her body as Tamara became a silent observer to the scene.

  “Where’s Mamma? When is she coming back?” The longing in Melissa’s soft voice broke Tamara’s heart.

  “Mamma’s not here. You have to accept that.” Tamara heard the bitterness in the older girl’s tone. The mother was somehow involved in the nightmare. “Has anyone bothered you? If they come to you again, you must tell me. They gave me their word that you would be spared.”

  “I want Mamma.” Melissa sobbed. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she rocked back and forth, lost in the misery.

  Tamara’s heart ached as she imagined all the things inferred by their captivity. Who was holding these girls captive, and to which forms of depravity were they being subjected.

  “Mamma wants everyone to think she’s a victim too. She wants everyone to feel sorry for her. We can’t trust her, Missy. She’ll claim we were stolen while she slept. She’ll tell everyone she’s been sick with worry. But I know what really happened. They gave her money and she let them take us. We can’t trust her anymore. You have to believe me.”

  Melissa responded with more broken sobs.

  “It’s almost time, love. Cover your ears and sing your song.”

  She forced Melissa’s echo back into the past and regained control of her small body. Aligning her eye with the slit, Tamara peered into the other room. She heard the shuffle of boots and muffled voices and then the door swung open.

  A dour-faced woman in a shapeless black garment entered first, followed by an equally somber man. “Are you ready to cooperate, young lady?” The woman spoke in a clipped accent Tamara couldn’t quite identify.

  “I am cooperating.” The girl sounded hopeless and frustrated while her shoulders shook with silent sobs. “Please. I’ve done everything you asked.”

  “You resist.” He man took a step toward her and the girl cringed, inadvertently taking herself out of Tamara’s limited field of vision.

  “I don’t.”

  “Do not argue,” the woman snapped. “We both feel the power inside you. You will submit or your gift will consume you.” The woman motioned the man forward while excitement lit her eyes.

  One anguished cry was the only sound the girl made then all Tamara could hear was the inhuman moaning of a helpless creature in excruciating pain. Her stomach lurched and she pressed her hands over her ears, her body gently rocking.

  Before the horror of the event could fully register, the scene collapsed in on itself and reshaped her reality. Tamara welcomed the reprieve. Anything had to be better than what those monsters were doing to that girl.

  She stumbled as vertigo tangled her feet. She was older now, perhaps fifteen or sixteen. The bedroom in which she stood was decorated with posters and one of the morphing murals that had been popular ten years ago. Despite the modern technology all around her, she held an antique oil lamp between her trembling hands.

  One glance in the mirror above the dresser confirmed Tamara’s theory. She was reliving Misty Blue’s past. Tamara could feel Blue’s fear and the despair of a person who had run out of options. She stared at the door as dread knotted her belly. Her hands ached, her grip on the lamp so tight her fingers were starting to go numb.

  “Don’t make me do this,” she whispered to the empty room. “Please don’t make me do this.”

  The door handle turned and a desolate sob escaped her dry throat. Inch by torturous inch, the door eased inward. Tamara’s heart beat so fast she could hear the frantic thudding in her ears. For a moment, the man stood in shadow, Tamara couldn’t see his face. Then he stepped into the bedroom and the lamplight illuminated his features.

  Despite the terror she sensed from Blue, Tamara was surprised by the man. He didn’t look cruel or depraved. With curly dark hair and bright blue eyes, he appeared young and friendly. Tamara focused on his eyes. She’d seen those eyes before, but the man in her first vision had been gaunt, his features harsh, his hair streaked with blue.

  “You look so pretty by firelight.” His smile was almost hesitant. “We have the house to ourselves. You can sleep in my arms and no one will know.”

  “I’ll know.” Blue’s voice sounded even though Tamara didn’t more her lips. “The first time was a mistake, but the others were… I won’t let you do this to me again.”

  His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a grim line. “But I can save you. We both know the spirit inside you must be exorcized. It’s growing stronger every day. I’ll help you. We can drive it out together.”

  “I don’t have a spirit inside me.”

  He stepped toward her and she backed up. “You do. I feel it every time I touch you. It squeezes my balls each time I come.”

  “Then stop doing this.” She gritted out the words between clenched teeth, her jaw aching with the pressure.

  “Are you really going to pretend you don’t want me? No one’s here, Missy. Can’t you be honest with yourself?”

  “I am being honest.” Her voice grew louder, more insistent as she failed to talk him down. “You’re engaged to my mother. It doesn’t matter what I want!”

  His mouth twisted in a smug little smile. “I know what you want, and I know how you like it. I don’t mind if you need to struggle. I understand your game. You pretend I’m forcing you because it eases your conscience.”

  “No.” She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “It’s not a game. I don’t want this.”

  “That’s right. Tell me to go to hell.” He reached for her and she twisted away. “Come on. Hit me. That will make you feel better.”

  “Just leave me alone! Please. I
can’t go through this again.”

  “Let’s see if you still feel that way with my dick deep inside you.” He lunged and her anguished cry echoed off the walls. As utter desolation erased her expression, she smashed the lamp against his chest. Oil saturated his shirt and dripped onto his pants, flames half a second behind. He screamed—eyes wide with disbelief.

  Blue pushed past him and ran down the hall. His screams rang in her head as she rushed out into the starless night.

  * * * * *

  “Her real name is Melissa.” Once the vision released, Tamara had curled up on her side and sobbed for almost an hour. Eventually she’d fallen back asleep. Somehow Jericho had managed to sleep through the entire ordeal. He’d ordered breakfast for them and the cart had been waiting when she stumbled out of the bathroom in a hotel-issue bathrobe. The food looked appealing, but coffee was all she could stomach at the moment. “I think the other girl was her sister.”

  “And she caught her stepfather on fire?” Jericho munched on a piece of toast as he entered the information into the search engine. “There can’t be too many teenaged girls who were arrested for—”

  “We don’t know that she was arrested. The fire might have been ruled an accident or covered up entirely.”

  “Still there should be some record of…” He scooted closer to the holo-display and scrolled through several entries before he said. “I think I’ve found something. Melissa Sue Cramark was found guilty of murdering her mother’s fiancé thirteen years ago on Chiron. They were part of an agricultural coop. It says there was an older sister Megan, who drowned four years before the incident. Oh God, the mother hanged herself while the trial was still in progress. There’s nothing listed after Melissa was taken to Borrelly for rehabilitation.”

  “Is Melissa still on Borrelly?”

  He closed the search engine and accessed Borrelly’s master roster. “Good call. No Melissa Cramark in residence today. Let me check the archives.”

  Tamara picked up her coffee and carried it across the room to the massive windows overlooking New Shardrake. The view was breathtaking from this height, but her mood was still rather gloomy. A glimpse into Blue’s past had left her feeling hopeless and forgotten. She didn’t even want to imagine what the rest of her life had been like.

  “According to official records, Melissa Cramark was assigned to the Crossroads mental health complex on Halley Prime as part of a plea bargain. She must have had some powerful friends. Most convicted murderers are kept on Borrelly, even if they have mental health issues.”

  It was an interesting fact, but she didn’t see how it pertained to the present so she didn’t pursue the tangent. “How long was she at Crossroads?”

  “Most of those clinics are private, so I don’t have access to their records, but let me see what I can find.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We know her current location.”

  He joined her at the window, concern clear in his expression. “So she thought she killed her abuser, even went to prison for his murder. But he’s returned to seek revenge? Why now after all this time?”

  “Maybe it took this long for him to find her? I don’t know. The better question is, why drag me into the middle of their family feud?”

  “You’re right.” He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “That’s a much better question.”

  She snuggled against his chest for a few minutes, savoring the warmth of his strong arms. Something had shifted last night. Whether she liked it or not, their weekend fling had matured into a relationship. “We need to go back.”

  “Back where?”

  Easing away so she could look into his eyes, she said, “Blue and I are in this together. I think it’s going to take both of us to bring this guy down.”

  “So you tell her what you know and hope she’ll do the same? Doesn’t sound like a very strong negotiating position to me.”

  “I own the Dark Star. If she doesn’t cooperate, I’ll throw her out on her ass. Does that sound like a better negotiating position?”

  He chuckled. “That’s what Petra would have done.”

  “I’m not Petra, but it will work to our advantage if people believe I’m more like her.”

  “So we’re back to the madam idea?”

  “More or less. As far as the staff is concerned, you and I are partners, and I am going to be running the Dark Star from now on. I think Paul and Blue are going to need to know more than the Mistresses and Masters, but we have to start somewhere.”

  “I agree.”

  She reluctantly left his arms, squaring her shoulders as she stepped away. “Then I better find something suitable to wear. I’m about to begin my life as a madam.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sick of Serra’s whimpers, Fenton finally tied her up in the bedroom and turned on the entertainment stream. The programming was anything but entertaining. What the fuck was taking Victor so long? The sun had been up for hours. Fenton hadn’t planned on being here nearly this long. Vic was supposed to make a report, offer himself as a witness and get his ass back here in time to rescue his lover. Was that so difficult?

  The front door rattled and Fenton deactivated the display. It wouldn’t do for Vic to find him lounging in front of the entertainment stream. He grabbed his knife off the coffee table and faced the door. “Took you long enough.”

  “They questioned me for hours.” Vic paused to lock the door, which seemed ironic being that the most dangerous man in the city was already inside his apartment. “What did you expect?” Belatedly realizing something was missing, his brow creased and he looked around. “Where’s Serra?”

  “She’s in the bedroom.” Fenton grinned. “I got bored.”

  “If you…” Rather than finish the threat, he ran down the hall and checked on his lover.

  Fenton heard sobs and muffled voices, and rolled his eyes. He should have roughed her up just to convince Vic he was serious about this shit. Vic closed the door to the bedroom as he returned to the main room of the apartment.

  “I kept my word,” Fenton stressed. “How did the Enforcers react to your story? Was Tamara still there?”

  “Tamara was long gone. She has an alibi.”

  “What? What alibi? I made damn sure she was alone when I killed Mort!”

  “If I’d been wired, you would have just given the Enforcers your confession.” Vic shook his head. “You’re so obsessed with this woman you’re getting careless.”

  Fenton ground his teeth. The twit was right and it pissed him off. He had to slow down and be more careful. He could not afford a mistake, any mistake, at this late stage. He had come too far and risked too much for his day of reckoning! He’d worked long enough through underlings. It was time for a personal appearance.

  “You completed your mission to my satisfaction.” He slipped his knife into the sheath on his belt and turned toward the door. “I will trouble you no more.”

  * * * * *

  The main lobby of the Dark Star was three times the size of the simulation and twice as lavish. Tamara looked around with a combination of fascination and disgust. If people only gathered here as they waited to be admitted to the club, why did the area need to be so gaudy?

  They’d chosen dusk for their visit, hoping the nooners would have gone home and the main evening rush would have yet to arrive. A blonde hostess approached on impossibly high heels, her large breasts and curvy ass brazenly displayed by her miniscule costume. “Welcome to the Dark Star. Do you have a reservation?”

  “I’m Tamara Owens. I don’t need one.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Owens. The Dark Star is a reservation-only establishment.” She looked relieved to have successfully formed all the syllables.

  “An establishment’s owner doesn’t require a reservation to tour the property,” Jericho told her.

  “But Petra is…”

  “I’m Petra’s daughter.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t you say so?” She flounced over to the security station and e
xplained the situation to the doorman, who promptly ushered them inside.

  Tamara smoothed down her knee-length black sheath and squared her shoulders. With a wide scoop neck and low-cut back, the dress was sexier than anything she would have worn in front of a class full of horny coeds, but far more conservative than the sex slave getup they put together yesterday. Jericho fell in step beside her, but didn’t touch her. They were business partners, not lovers.

  Though larger than the simulation, the main floor of the Dark Star was much the same. Lots of naked bodies in creative poses, lots of gasps and moans. She focused straight ahead and walked at a steady clip, high heels ringing on the tile floor.

  They were almost across the room when one of the Masters called out to Jericho in a deep, booming voice.

  “Damn it,” Jericho muttered under his breath.

  “If we didn’t want people to know, we would have slipped in through the back,” she reminded him.

  They turned to greet the Master, who turned out to be as massive as his voice. “What are you doing on the dark side? I didn’t think you liked to get your hands dirty anymore.”

  “This is business, not pleasure,” Jericho told him.

  “Really?” The Master looked at Tamara with new interest. “Introduce me to your friend.”

  Not waiting for Jericho, Tamara stuck out her hand. “Tamara Owens. I’m Petra’s daughter.”

  “The history professor?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Not any longer,” she informed with a sweet smile. “The entrepreneurial spirit is strong in my family, so VinDerley University and I have parted ways.”

  The Master gaped at her, too stunned to shake her hand. “Are you going to…? Does Z know about this?”

  “That’s where we’re headed now.” Jericho placed his hand on the small of her back and led her away from the astonished Master. “Every employee in the building will know within an hour. Good work, my love.”

  My love. The endearment made her heart flutter, but she refused to be distracted by the reaction. They had the rest of their lives to sort through their feelings. Right now they had a killer to catch.