A Grave Exchange

by Jane White Pillatzke

  Gretchen always arrived with a donation of some sort—usually pillows she made herself and puppy or kitten food. Without people like her, we would be closed in no time. I set the bag behind the front counter, and then invited her into the other room for some coffee.

  We talked a while about some of the animals we’d had around for awhile and sipped our coffee. An hour or so later, a young couple came in, asking to see the kittens.

  Mr. and Mrs. Clark—Adam and Elizabeth—were new to the area, they said, and they wanted a new addition to their family. Just as I started to lead them into the back, where we kept the kittens, the phone in the little kitchenette rang.

  “I’ll get that for you, Ivy. You see to your customers.” Gretchen waved me away and headed off to answer the phone.

  I shrugged. The elderly woman knew almost as much about adopting a Humane Society animal as I did, so she could probably handle the caller just fine. I turned to Adam and Elizabeth.

  “Let’s find you a kitten, shall we?”

  While the couple examined and cuddled half the kittens we had available, we talked in depth about what was needed to raise a kitten to a healthy cat and how much shots and neutering or spaying would be. By the time they’d made their choice—a tiny, ginger-colored female I simply adored—the Clarks had agreed they could afford the expense and were ready to sign a contract. We walked into the surgery and I looked toward the kitchenette. Gretchen had the phone to her ear and appeared engrossed in a conversation. I led Adam and Elizabeth into the front room, where I readied their adoption papers while they chose a blue collar with a tiny bell on it and some kitten toys and treats from a display rack. They said they’d buy the rest of the items they’d need at their local supermarket, so I wished them all well and walked them to the door. Surprised to find the weather had turned sour, I stood and watched as the couple raced to their car through an icy downpour.

  The sound of Gretchen’s German accent reminded me of the phone call she’d taken, and I headed back to the kitchenette. She looked up and waved me over as I came to the doorway.

  Assuming it was the local vet, who rang regularly to see how his patients were doing. I took hold of the phone, noting Gretchen cheeky smile.

  “Hello?” I said hesitantly.

  “Ivy, it’s me. I just had to ring to see how your day is going for you so far.”

  My cheeks heated, and I squirmed as I noticed Gretchen watching me. I gave her a pointed look, and she giggled and went into the back, no doubt to find Max, an old shepherd we’d had for ages, and Gretchen’s personal favorite.

  “I’m fine, Lucius,” I said, returning my attention to the phone. “Thank you for calling me. What a nice surprise.”

  I found myself scuffing my foot on the tiled floor. I shook my head at my childish behavior and tuned back into the conversation.

  “Are we still on for five o’clock?” he asked.

  His soft accent brought a smile to my face. “Yes, I’ll be ready.”

  Without warning, the scar on my wrist flared with a searing heat and an intense itching, and I dropped the phone.

  “Ivy, are you there? Are you okay?”

  As quickly as it had come on, the pain eased, and I snatched up the phone. “Yes, sorry. My wrist . . .it started burning for some reason, but it’s stopped now.”

  “Make sure you have the phone close by you at all times today, and please be careful. Remember what I said about your wrist?”

  I assured him I was fine and I’d see him later that day. After hanging up, I found myself smiling uncontrollably. I felt so lighthearted and happy; I truly could not remember the last time I felt this way.

  “Ivy, I’ve never seen you look so happy. Who is this gentleman, Lucius?” Gretchen asked.

  I had almost forgotten she’d talked to Lucius for quite a long time. My face grew warm as I found myself beneath her careful scrutiny.

  “I met him last night,” I said quietly. “We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

  Gretchen smiled and took hold of my chin. “You need someone in your life, and this man feels right to me. Trust me on this . . . he’s good for you.”

  I nodded, a bit puzzled by Gretchen’s words, but passing them off as the essentricities of an old woman.

  “You might be right,” I said with a smile, and then walked into the surgery to put old Zeus’ collar on him. It was time for his morning walk.

  After shouting to Gretchen that I was heading off with Zeus, and telling her to ring my cell if she needed me, I zipped up my coat and headed out the back door of the shelter.

  For a few moments, Zeus and I walked quietly along the old track into the field beyond the shelter. It was very windy and cold, but at least the rain had stopped. Falling leaves flew on the breeze and hit our faces. Shuddering, I pulled the hood up on my parka and held Zeus’ leash tightly.

  “We won’t be out here too long today, old boy; I don’t want you getting sick.”

  Zeus looked up, and, as if in agreement, he waggled his tail. We plodded along the outskirts of the field, the tree line of the woods keeping us somewhat sheltered. Again, my wrist got extremely hot to the touch and very itchy. I looked around warily and checked in my pocket to see if I had remembered to bring my cell. I clutched the phone like a lifeline as we wandered along our regular path. Feeling more and more apprehensive, I decided to cut our walk short, telling myself old Zeus would catch a cold if I didn’t. As I neared the back door to the shelter, the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. I swung around, but saw nothing . . . not even a bird in the nearby trees. As I turned back around to open the door, Zeus started to snarl, and the fur on the back of his neck stood up. I gasped and rushed to open the door, knowing for certain I wasn’t alone. I pushed the door open and tried to pull Zeus inside, but he stubbornly stood there, as if determined to defend his territory. Against what, or whom? Lucius’ words ran through my worried mind. I reached for the phone to call him, but dropped the phone back into my pocket, feeling silly. After all, I had just met the man, and besides, nothing happened. I was fine. Shaking my head, I heaved Zeus’ leash and finally managed to drag him inside. Grateful for small mercies, I locked and bolted the back door. With a sense of relief to be safely inside, I took Zeus’ leash and collar off and walked him back into the surgery, where I gave him a small treat to compensate for his shorter-than-usual walk.

  Gretchen greeted me with a warm cup of coffee. Eyeing me, she frowned. “What’s happened, Ivy; you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I shivered at her observations, but determined to keep my reality in check, I smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just cold. It’s freezing outside.”

  She grunted, shrugged, and then walked to the desk, where she’d sit and do her knitting or read a novel, unless and until I needed her to help out with something.

  The afternoon flew by, between calls about animals that were available and people coming in to visit and play with the adoptees. All too soon, the clock struck four. Someone knocked on the front door, and I looked up to see Fausto walking inside. Again, my wrist burned with an intensely painful itch. I rubbed it furiously and pulled my sleeve down to hide my scar as Fausto approached me.

  He nodded and said, “Miss, Sir Valentine sent me to collect you.”

  I did not recall Lucius saying Fausto would come for me, and I was pretty sure we had arranged for five o’ clock, but I could have been wrong, as I was so easily distracted when it came to anything to do with Lucius. The shelter had become quiet over the past half hour, so I calculated that it was safe to leave early. Gretchen could handle anything between now and when the part-time evening manager, Georgia, arrived at five. We’d already fed the animals, and for whatever reason, Zeus did not want to go on his afternoon walk. I told Fausto I would meet him at the car in a few moments, as I needed to get my coat and lock up the shelter. He nodded and walked back out the door.

  For a moment, I stood there watching him through the window. He walked to a darkened SUV and climbed i
nside. Why wasn’t he driving Lucius’ Jaguar? Perhaps Lucius preferred the SUV in the stormy weather that was brewing outside again. I shrugged.

  “Gretchen, will you be okay if I leave early?”

  The elderly woman looked up from her book. “Oh, of course, honey. You go on. I’ll be just fine.”

  “Thank you, Gretchen. You’re a lifesaver. And Georgia’ll be here in less than an hour, so it’s not like you’ll be stuck here ‘til closing.” I slipped on my parka, zipped it up, and wrapped a scarf around my neck.

  As I headed out the door, I heard what sounded like Zeus’ howling, coming from the back room. The noise bothered me; Zeus was usually such a placid old boy. I decided to call the vet in the morning to check him out.

  I crossed the lot to the SUV, the wind hurling dancing leaves around my face. A strong gust of wind came up, blowing me sideways, and as I veered back on course toward the vehicle, I saw what appeared to be Lucius driving his Jaguar up the street.

  “Fausto, is that not Lucius driving toward us?”

  No sooner had the words left my mouth, than my head exploded with pain as it slammed against the door of the SUV. I heard glass smash, tires screeching, and then before the darkness took over, I heard savage growling.

  Chapter Eight

  I woke up and gingerly tried to reach the side of my head that was pounding, but nausea prevented me from my objective. Instead, I rolled onto my knees and threw up. Gasping for breath, overwhelmed by the pain, I shook from head to toe. Suddenly, I realized with absolute clarity that I was in mortal danger. I tried to open my eyes wide and see where I was, but my they felt dry and raw. I reached up and rubbed them, and my vision cleared enough for me to see my surroundings. I had no clue where I was or what time it was. I tried to stand up, but legs wouldn’t hold me, so I sat back and stared, horrified at what I saw. A concrete room—no windows, no flooring, no furnishings just concrete. The only non-concrete item in the room was the door, and it was made of a thick metal. I pushed myself up on to my protesting feet and sluggishly shuffled over to the check the knob. I did not really believe it would open, but I had to try.

  Of course, the door would not budge; I laid my head against it and listened for any sound from beyond, something to indicate where I was, but I heard nothing. I remembered I had my phone in my pocket and hoped there was enough of a charge for me to make a call. Surely, Lucius would be missing me. Then, what he’d told me earlier hit me, and I fell to the ground, cowering in fear. Was this to do with the king? What was going to happen to me? I absently rubbed my wrist, although it wasn’t throbbing. Surely, with me being in this much danger, it should have me screaming? Maybe my ward didn’t work anymore. Did that mean I would die? I sat for a moment, wondering who I would call. Gretchen? Was she still at The Humane Society? I hit the speed dial button I had pre-assigned to my work and waited. Nothing happened. No ringing, no busy signal. Nothing. I tried Gretchen’s number with the same results. What was going on? Why wouldn’t my phone work?

  As I closed my phone and was about to put it back in my coat pocket, I noticed scratches on the back cover. I lifted up for closer inspection, pulled off the backing, and saw the chip had been removed. That would explain why it didn’t work. I froze. While I was out cold, what else had been done to me? Apart from the pain in my head, I didn’t really any different. I had a few bruises on my wrists, and I noted my ankles felt sore. Opening the zip on one of my boots, I saw the beginnings of a wicked bruise. Who’d done this? Fausto? But he was supposedly Lucius’ trusted friend. As I sat there trying to piece things together, with the makings of a ferocious migraine forming behind my eyes, I heard footsteps approaching. I hastily retreated farther back into the room against the wall. The few martial arts classes I took suggested if you were in the line of attack and couldn’t run away to back yourself to a wall. I never did finish the course. Cursing my stupidity, I sat like a duck with a target on its head. The lock clicked, and the door slowly opened.

  Expecting Fausto, I looked up in surprise as four men in ornate uniforms entered, and moments later, a man who took my breath away for all the wrong reasons entered the tiny room—the king. Claustrophobia made my lungs ache, preventing me from drawing a full breath. I shivered wildly, and began hyperventilating. Dots appeared in my line of vision.

  “Woman, snap out of it or I will put you down like the creature you are should be.”

  His shocking words pulled me back to the present. Feeling completely out of my league and fearing for my life, I stayed mute. Nothing in my life could have ever prepared me for this moment. I was in a room of vampires, and I had no chance of getting out of there alive. The king stood there, towering over me. He had eyes the color of a cold winter sky, and hair so white blond, it looked like snow. There was nothing warm about this man. Shivering, I glanced down at my wrist, wondering why nothing was happening. I thought Lucius said I had a safety ward, that the scar protected me; perhaps, it only worked when he was with me?

  “Silly child; that ward will not protect you from me. Maria may have cast a spell of protection, but I am the king of all, and as the king, my spells and enchantments are far mightier than any mere witch’s.”

  I couldn’t speak; no words would form, and my brain felt totally addled. Too much was happening too fast me to think coherently. The king chuckled, leaned down, and lifted my chin.

  “I do not know what Lucius sees in you. Perhaps I will later.”

  His gaze travelled down my body, and I felt completely naked. Shivering, I tried to wriggle free, only to have the king clutch my chin harder.

  “Ivy, I have not finished with you. I will get to know you intimately yet. After that, your life will be worthless to me.”

  As if the king silently commanded them, the men in the room turned and left us alone.

  I scrambled to my feet, but I had nowhere to go, so I cowered against the back wall of the room, tears threatening to fall. Violently, I brushed my eyes with my fist.

  “So brave, little one. Alas, resistance is futile. And as soon as I get what I want, you will cease to exist.”

  With that, the king stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut and locked again behind him. Falling to the hard concrete floor, I lay there, letting the tears finally fall freely. How did I ever get into this situation? Why me? I lay there crying, and eventually, sleep came to me. Slowly, my world of terror faded for a few moments. Sweet moments, during which Lucius came to visit me. As sleep closed her arms around me, I felt his presence, his arms around me, his mouth upon mine, and passion ignited my body once more.

  My limbs felt heavy with desire, my eyes too leaden to open. I lay there imagining Lucius beside me. I moved my hand down my stomach until I reached my scarred pelvis, which Lucius had showered with love. Gingerly, I slid my fingers over my scars. Butterflies spread through my tummy as I remembered Lucius using his skilled mouth. My nipples hardened at the very thought of his tender ministrations. No longer able to hold off, I slid my fingers under my skirt and found my wet panties. Slowly, I started rubbing my pussy, hardly able to breathe. I found myself grinding into my fingers, harder and faster, and I became so wet, my finger slid into my tight pussy. I gasped at how good it felt as passion spread throughout my body, and all the while, I thought of Lucius, thought of his naked body.

  “Ivy, little one, slide a second fingers inside, now. For me.”

  My eyes shot open, and I looked around. Horrified at myself, I quickly pulled my skirt back down and fixed my panties. What was wrong with me? Why was I hearing voices? Had I finally crossed the line from sanity to lunacy? Considering all I was going through, I wouldn’t be surprised. There was only so much a person could take before their mind checked out, once and for all.

  Suddenly, the scar on my wrist few fiery hot. I looked down at it and gasped. The blood red teardrop was enflamed and looked ready to burst. Desperately, I blew on the mark, trying to cool it down. I glanced around solemnly. I was alone—completely, utterly alone. The situation remind
ed of the horrors I’d faced as a teen, and yet again, I was alone to face my worst nightmare. Driven by a wave of hysteria, I ran to the door and started hammering on it with my fists, screaming for someone—anyone—to hear me and let me out. I could not bear this. I could not bear being alone, facing my fears once again. Lucius promised I would never be alone again, but he’d lied. I hitting the door over and over again, screaming until my voice went hoarse, and still no one came. Finally, exhausted, I collapsed to the ground once again.

  My dragged air in and out of my lungs. My mind barely holding onto a thread of sanity, I raged inside. This was not going to happen. I would get out of this. I had to, and Lucius was somewhere waiting on me. The king must have me hidden away somewhere, but I knew Lucius would try to find me. Meanwhile, I wouldn’t just sit here; I had to figure out a way to get out of there. In that moment, something happened to me. Not only did I come to the realization that I would have to pick up the pieces of my shattered, tormented heart and heal it, but it also dawned on me that I would have to help myself escape. Lucius was right; I had the power in me to get through this. I and I alone could heal myself; no one else could. Just as I had this epiphany, my scar stopped throbbing. I looked down to see it had sunken into my wrist, a pale pink drop no longer blood red. Perhaps Maria’s gift had served two purposes—not only warning me of grave danger, but also helping me realize I had the strength inside me to carry on. I stood straight, took a few deep breaths, and waited. No matter how long it took, I would wait it out, and I would find a way to get out of there alive.

  I paced the concrete floor, rubbing my shoulders from the cold. Hours passed, and I pulled out my phone, mulling over the fact I could not use it. Pissed and despondent, I threw it across the room; it clattered to the ground and broke into pieces. Immediately, I regreted my actions. As I stooped to pick up the shattered remains, I heard footsteps quickly approaching. I screamed and hollered, banging my fists on the door. The steps kept coming, and I backed away, up against the far wall, and waited. I cowered like a caged animal, but I was ready to take flight. If given half a chance to escape, I had to take it, even if I died taking the risk. I had to get out, I had to find Lucius. The door lock clunked and swung open, and one of the guards walked in and looked at me, smiling like a Cheshire cat. He threw a tray of food down beside me, and when he turned to walk out, I charged. With everything I had, I jumped on him, but it was like hitting the concrete wall beside me. He laughed cruelly and grabbed my pummeling fists, squeezing them so hard I had tears in my eyes. I could hear bones crunch, and I screamed. I kicked him and kicked him, tried to scrape his face, but he grabbed my wrists and flung me up and straight over his head. I landed on the cold, hard ground. The guard stepped over me, then kicked me in the ribs. I curled up into a ball. The pain was horrendous, but I’d managed to block his aim with my arm, avoiding any lasting damage to my ribcage. Maybe I couldn’t do this on my own, I thought, as I lay there with my hands over my face. Where was Lucius?