by Lizzy Ford
Katie awoke on the lower bunk bed in a prison cell with no windows and a tiny metal toilet and sink. Her blurred vision fell to the corner, where a creature with glowing emerald eyes crouched. She jerked back, pain shooting through her.
"You brought much blood," the creature said, its voice trembling a little with excitement.
She closed her eyes and pushed herself up, her breath catching at the sharp pain in her ribs. Her feet felt swollen and fiery.
"What are you?" the creature asked. Its voice was hoarse, and it spoke with a small lisp.
She braced herself and opened her eyes. The lighting was harsh. Aside from its large, glowing green eyes, the creature appeared near-human with a lean body covered in some sort of leather jumper. She couldn’t distinguish whether it was male or female. The voice sounded like the sultry growl of a woman, but it had short hair and no breasts. And four fingers on each hand. Its skin was porcelain pale, as if it never saw sunlight.
"I’m a human," she said.
"A mortal human?" it replied skeptically.
"Is there any other kind?"
The creature looked confused but shifted from its guarded crouch to a kneeling position.
"Does the mortal human have a name?" it asked.
"Katie."
"Katie," it repeated pensively. "Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatie."
Her feet were swollen and shredded, as she expected. The creature repeated her name several more times while she examined her body. She was bruised all over and wondered if her ribs were broken as well. She’d be lucky to walk again soon, and without medical supplies…with her luck lately, she wouldn’t die from infection, just suffer for the rest of her life.
"Kaaaaaaaaaaaatie."
"Would you stop that?" she snapped, her head aching.
"Katie."
"Do you have a name?"
"Lankha," it said promptly.
"Where are we, Lankha?"
"In Hell. Heeeeeeeeeeell."
She looked out of the front of the cell into a small corridor with equally harsh lighting. Across from them was another cell, this one darkened. Its occupant stared back at her with glowing silver eyes.
"He drinks blood. He smells yours," Lankha volunteered.
"What is he?"
"Don’t know. From the mortal human realm like you."
"What…realm is this?" she asked.
"Heeeeeeeeeell. It’s in the underworld, the only place where immortals can’t come."
If no immortals could save her, she wondered who could. Who’d have ever thought she’d want to be found by the jackass, Kris?
"I need whiskey," she said, and rubbed her head.
"Whiiiiiiiiskeeeeeeey." Lankha’s voice was almost sing-song. It stood and retrieved small blue pellets from its bed, offering them to her.
"What is it?" she asked, accepting them.
"Water for mortal human. Warden says one every moon cycle."
She eyed them doubtfully but popped one into her mouth. It tasted like a plain jelly bean, until she swallowed, when it felt like a stream of water spilled from the back of her mouth to her gullet. Within seconds, she felt refreshed.
Lankha retrieved a small satchel from its bed and sat cross-legged on the floor beside her feet, withdrawing small vials and balled gauze.
"What’re you doing?" she asked, watching.
"I’m a healer. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeealer. Warden put you here so I could help you. I cleaned your blood. I started but grew tired. Now, I finish."
Lankha licked its lips in satisfaction. She feared asking more and braced herself when it took one foot in its hand. Lankha’s hands were covered in what felt like soft, feathery, cool micro-suede. Its touched eased the heat and pain. She watched, astonished, as it carefully cleaned her feet without hurting them and then slathered on oil from one vial and wrapped them in gauze. When it’d finished, she felt little pain, and the heat was completely gone.
"That’s amazing, Lankha," she voiced.
"Amaaaaaaazing," it agreed. "I’m the oldest male healer in my guild. There's one female older. Your body is stubborn, but you will heal."
Male, she noted mentally.
His hands traveled up her legs with the expertise and gentleness of a doctor, all the while spreading the soft coolness through her. His touch lingered on bruises, and he retrieved a small tool when he reached the hem of her dress. He sliced through it, and she pushed his hand away.
"You’re hurt," he said, surprised.
"I don’t have any other clothes! You can’t be cutting up the only set I do have."
He looked concerned and stood again, retrieving something else from his bed. He dropped a leather jumper similar to his on her lap and then returned to his cutting. The creature across the hall growled. She didn’t let herself think too much about what it might be, how she ended up in Hell, or why she’d just let some otherworldly creature with fuzzy hands cut off her clothes. No, those were not thoughts she could handle in her current condition.
Lankha’s hands remained on her ribs for a long, long time. He appeared satisfied at last and touched her breast. She slapped his hand away, and he looked at her, confused again.
"What are these?" he asked.
"Just ignore them and finish up."
He obeyed. He finished at long last and replaced all his things in his satchel. She pulled on the jumper, not expecting it to fit and surprised to find the leather-like material as flexible as spandex. It fit snugly, though it was so thin, she still felt exposed.
"What do you do?" Lankha asked, sitting back.
"I’m in the food industry. I help them with marketing, which would’ve been my major, if I didn’t quit school on the fourth day."
"You make vegetables? There’s a marketing guild?"
"Oh, no," she said, realizing his meaning. "I don’t do anything…special like you."
He frowned.
"Rather, doing nothing is my apparent talent," she clarified.
"You are not a normal mortal human."
"No. I’m, um, apparently unaffected by the…talents of other…guild guys, unless they’re, like, really old," she fumbled.
"Ooooohhhhh. Old like me, oldest in my guild."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Very nice talent," he said. "Very rare. Not good for you, though."
"Why not?"
"The Ancients are very rare. I’ve been in Heeeeeeeeeeeell forever, and if I wasn’t here, I couldn’t heal you."
"Only the Ancients can offer any protection," she murmured with a frown. "Interesting."
"You’ll die soon."
"Shouldn’t I be dead already if I’m in Hell?"
He shrugged, not nearly as concerned with her life or death as she was. She set the blue water pills on her pillow and stretched back. Her ribs were sore but no longer painful. Amnesia was looking like a good option compared to Hell.
"Now you pay me," Lankha said.
"Excuse me? Pay you what?"
He smiled, revealing fangs among the neat row of white teeth. She shivered, cold inside.
"Blood," he confirmed.
She stared at him.
"Not much. I don’t have the appetite of the beast," he said, lifting his chin to the glowing silver eyes across the corridor.
He took her hand gently in his feathery, cool hands and pressed a finger to the inside of her forearm. It fell numb. She said nothing, the world too surreal for her, and turned her head away as he dipped his head. She didn’t feel his fangs sink into her, but she heard the sound of punctured flesh. He sipped quietly. As promised, he did not drink long, and she felt him press another finger to the wound to seal the seepage.
Her stomach turned. She didn't know how she could ever eat again.
The beast across the hall roared and threw itself against its prison. The cell wall buckled and bent. She scrambled toward the back of the cell, huddling with Lankha in a corner. She couldn’t see what was there but knew it was on its way to get her.
"He likes mortal human blood,"
Lankha whispered.
"No shit!"
A man in a robe hurried down the hall as the beast battered itself against the weakening cell. The man paused and whispered something in a harsh tongue. The cell repaired itself until it stood straight again. The beast within continued to throw itself at it, ceasing finally when it saw the prison had been reinforced.
The robed man strode away, and Katie and Lankha eased from the corner. She sat on her bunk while Lankha climbed atop his. She stared at the beast across the hall staring at her and soon heard Lankha’s snores. He was fed and happy. She shuddered, looking at the tiny scars of his teeth on her forearm.
One day, she’d wake up and find herself on the Metro again.
"Hey, human."
She glanced up. The voice came from a cell down the hall.
"Lunchmeat," the male voice called.
She moved to the bars at the front of her cell, aware of the beast across the hall doing the same with a growl. Pale hands draped through bars two cells down from the beast.
"Did you just call me lunchmeat?" she asked.
"Oh yeah. A little mortal meat, some cheese and crackers. How ya doin’, lunchmeat?"
"Pretty shitty. Is there anyone here who doesn’t want to eat me or drink my blood?"
The masculine voice gave a surprised laugh, and he pressed his face to the bars. He looked human, aside from the fanged smile.
"Sexy lunchmeat," he said. "You’d enjoy what I’d do to you."
"Never really been a fan of being eaten alive," she returned.
"Spunky. Me likey."
"Thanks, psycho."
"You talk big behind those bars, little girl," another voice said.
She stared with surprise at the low growl from the darkened cell across from her.
"The rabid dog speaks," she noted. "I’m already in Hell. I’m thinking death might be a bit more to my liking."
The pale, fanged man laughed again.
"Which one of you will promise me a painless death?" she baited, at her last wit’s end.
"I’ll make it less painful than usual," the pale man said.
"I like pain," another voice down the block growled.
"Less pain than Jared."
"More pain than Jared but less than Khakhala."
"No deal."
"No death, just pain."
"Mortal blood rocks."
"Can I get some action and then give you a painless death?"
The immortals in the cell block threw out their best offers, and she couldn't help the sense of terror settling into her gut.
"No," she replied. "No action. Just the pleasure of killing me. You can do whatever you want to my body afterwards."
"No good to me dead."
"Only good to me dead. Not allowed to kill."
The voices down the hall were all male, though she doubted any of them were human.
"No pain," the beast across from her said.
"Don’t you want to drink my blood?" she asked skeptically.
"It won’t hurt, little girl." His menacing growl chilled her more than any of the others’.
"I’ll think about it," she replied, and stepped away from the bars.
"Hey Lunchmeat," the pale man, Jared, called.
"Yeah?"
"Don’t stick your hands outside the cage."
"I have no intention of doing so."
"Rhyn might grab one and pull you out. You’d be cut into pieces by the bars, and then no one would get their snack," he continued.
"Yeah, real shame, shithead," she retorted, feeling more ill by the second.
He laughed. "What’re you doing here, Lunchmeat? Humans don’t come here unless they’re dead, and even then, only a couple make it onto our supermax zoo."
"No idea."
"Why aren’t you crying, little girl?" the beast, Rhyn, asked in his gravelly, low voice.
"Maybe she’s a spy," a voice farther down the hall called. "Here to listen to our secrets."
"I’m not a spy."
"Wouldn’t matter if you were," Jared said, unconcerned. "The beast is right. You’re holding up well. Maybe when they start the torture, she’ll cry. Then she’ll negotiate on that no-pain thing."
"How I ache to be there," another voice moaned.
"You taste as sweet as you look, little girl?" Rhyn mocked.
"Like soggy gym socks," she snapped.
"I like you, Lunchmeat," Jared continued. "Will be a shame when they break you. Or when one of us gets loose and kills you. Not sure what’ll come first, though Rhyn there has almost broken through his cage twice now."
Supermax, inhuman predator wing of the zoo. Torture.
It figured. Her heart was beating fast, her palms sweaty. She returned to her bunk and lay down on her stomach facing the hallway, cold fear filling her. She stared at the silver eyes staring at her, slowly falling into an exhausted, restless slumber.
The sounds of Rhyn slamming his body into his cell and snarling awoke her sometime later. Lankha was huddled in a corner, but she rolled to watch. She popped one of the water cubes into her mouth, head pulsing from a nasty hangover.
Rhyn had bent his cage again. Though she tried hard not to fear death, she wondered what kind of creature was capable of breaking through bars made of materials she’d never before seen and held in place with some sort of magic. She wanted to see what the beast looked like, what kind of monster he’d be, yet knew if she saw him in full light, he was on his way to kill her.
The robed man came again and repaired the damage. Rhyn fell quiet, and the robed man turned to her. His eyes were black and empty, his frame small and wiry. He wore a glowing talisman on a leather chain around his neck.
"Hey Lunchmeat," Jared called.
"Yeah."
"If you take the amulet, no pain, guaranteed."
Her eyes dropped to the talisman around the robed man’s neck. The robed man sent what looked like a lightning bolt down the hall. Jared cursed.
"Come with me," the robed man ordered her.
The bars of her cell dissipated at his command, and she stepped into the hall. A narrow, lit walkway extended all the way down the corridor, the only part of the hall out of reach of the arms of the prisoners on either side.
He led her toward Jared’s direction. The pale man was tall and lean, and he hung his hands again through the bars of his cell. He winked as she passed and licked his lips.
"Nice ass. Wouldn’t mind a bite of that."
She ignored him and crossed her arms. Some of the cells were black like Rhyn’s, some with bars, and others with glass. Some appeared empty while others…she stopped looking when she saw the fanged moth man. The predators were silent, watching their lunch parade by them.
She trailed the robed man through two doors and into a hot, dry night. He led her through a fortress too ancient for her to date, its blackened walls and well-worn stones massive and thick. There were two moons in this realm, one full and the other a sliver.
The robed man led her into the fortress and wound his way through bright intersections, down stairs, and into a more opulent part of the building. The halls grew wider, and the stone turned to carpet beneath her sore feet. She was surprised she could walk at all and knew a few ounces of blood had been a small price to pay for Lankha’s work, which she’d never have gotten for all the money in the world at home.
She nearly leapt past her escort when he entered the banquet hall, the scents of roasted meat and a million other things making her stomach roar.
Until she saw the spit with the human-like body roasting above it. She stared, knowing no amount of counseling would fix her when this was over.
"My lord, Sasha, I have brought the human," her robed escort said in a monotone voice.
"Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
The robed man bowed and retreated to the door. She turned as the man called Sasha lifted one of her curls from her shoulder. He was a lean man with gleaming silver-blue eyes, teeth filed into points, and an aura so cold
she stepped away.
"Like a doll," Sasha said, admiring her. "So full of life. Perfect."
"I told you, Sasha," a familiar voice said.
Katie looked past him, gasping. Jade stood near the spit, dark eyes blazing.
"And you were right," Sasha replied. "Now go, my love, before they notice you're gone."
Jade's glare stayed on her as he hesitated. Sasha turned to him with a smile, and Jade's gaze softened. He bowed his head and left her alone with the madman. Sasha faced her. Katie took another step back, the stillness of his gaze unsettling.
"I’ve been waiting for a long time to claim you. We knew you’d appear eventually."
He motioned to a seat at the table loaded with food she feared eating. The seat was at his left, and he waited until she accepted before sitting. There was already food on her plate--meat from an unnamed source, vegetables, bread.
"I know you’re hungry," he said.
She was starving. She took the roll and bit into it, surprised to find it tasted perfect. She ate the whole basketful while he watched. When he motioned to the meat, she looked toward the spit and then lied.
"I’m vegetarian."
He ate nothing. When her stomach was full, she allowed herself to look at him. His eyes gleamed. He took her wrist and raised his pinkie, where she saw the nail had been filed to a point and reinforced with metal. Before she could draw her wrist away, he pierced it. The pain surprised her after Lankha’s gentle ministrations. The creature twisted her wrist and squeezed, capturing her blood in a small vial. The robed man who had led her to the hall strode forward and took the vial, then backed away silently.
"Verifying your identity," Sasha said with a polite smile.
"What do you want with me?"
"You know what. Your blood is rare. It can lead us to victory."
"You’re the bad guys," she said with a frown.
"We serve a different master."
He said nothing more, as if unwilling to say more until the identity verification was done. Still hungry, she ventured to try the vegetables. The broccoli tasted normal, and she ate all of them. She looked up at Sasha, her heart hammering under his hungry look.
The robed man returned and spoke in the harsh tongue. A look of satisfaction spread over the face of the creature before her. He gripped her wrist hard, lowering his head. She wrenched away. His reflexes were like Kris’s, too fast to follow. He snatched her neck and rose, jerking her off the chair. Her air supply cut off, she tore at the hand holding her until the skin on his arm fell away to reveal smooth, black skin more akin to a reptile’s than a human’s. When the world narrowed, he released her. She fell, gasping for air.
"I want you alive, but I don’t care how much you suffer. You will find I’m a reasonable…man. I offered you the easy way, you refused. Now that choice is forever gone. You are stuck with a way less comfortable for you. You’re in complete control of how much I hurt you."
His calm words terrified her. She rubbed her neck, sensing the evil and determination in his tone. He paused a moment for the words to sink in. She caught her breath and waited. When he reached for her, she flinched but didn’t fight him. He pulled her up and gripped her neck, pushing her head aside to expose the vulnerable skin.
She closed her eyes, telling herself she’d survive this and figure out how to get the hell out of there, even if it meant bartering with the monsters on her cell block. Her resolve to grit her teeth and bear it lasted until the pain.
He tore into her neck, and agony seared straight through her.