by Debra Dunbar
Catcalls eyed the pistol. “What about the sale? I shoot one, that demon can’t fix her.”
“If I can’t find the girl that snuck under the door, then there won’t be any auction. The boss might be willing to forgive us for being one short, but two? And one of them the teenage girl that’s racking up all the online bids?”
Catcalls scowled. “He’ll kill us.”
“I’m going for the girl. If I can’t find her in the next half hour, we’re going to shoot them all, take what we’ve made so far and get out.”
“What about the demon?” Catcalls asked.
“She gets back before I do, send her out to look for the girl. Next time she returns all she’ll find is dead bodies and us gone. Let her try to explain what happened to the boss. Let him take it out on her.”
With that, Pockmarks spun around and stalked purposefully out of the room, not even bothering to close the door. His footsteps echoed as he broke into a run. He slid through the half-open bay door, and into the darkness. He’d left both doors open, tempting us, calling us to freedom. One glance at Catcalls’ face told me why. It didn’t matter anymore. If one of us tried to run for it, he’d shoot them down. They were guys with nothing left to lose. Death, or sold into slavery. I knew which option I’d choose, but I still held out hope that my girls wouldn’t face either.
If I couldn’t free them now, I’d do it later. If I couldn’t get them out of here before the sale, I’d do it later. I’d kill whoever bought me, track down every one of them and release them. They were family. And family didn’t give up on each other. Family didn’t turn their back on someone they’d pledged themselves to. Family didn’t divide itself, didn’t make someone choose sides, didn’t tear their bonds apart over stupid, senseless matters and arrogant pride.
“You’d find her faster if two of you were looking,” Sugar commented. I shook my head at her in warning, knowing exactly what she was thinking. If both guards were gone, we could escape. They couldn’t track us all down once we were out of this building.
But I knew there was a horrible price to pay in that plan. My stomach knotted up at the thought of both men out there, hunting down Kitten. She was just a teenager, just a kid. She was probably scared and crying, running barefoot through whatever was outside those bay doors. I didn’t want her to get caught, and her chances were better if she didn’t have two men after her. But there were five girls here in this room with me that deserved freedom as well, and I knew that’s what Sugar was thinking. The good of many over the good of one.
No. Never again. Unless that sacrifice was me, I would never do that again. I would never turn my back on someone I loved even for a moment. Never again.
“You got out of a locked room, and I’m thinking you’ll do it again.” The guard sneered. “That demon’s helping you, isn’t she? She let that girl die, helped the other one escape, and is trying to help you escape too. The bitch is setting us up to take the fall. Well, fuck her. It’s her that’s gonna take the blame for this. Her.”
Kill us all, and let the boss blame the demon. Or if they found Kitten… I held my breath and eyed the gun, wondering if they would shoot Leethu. Could a demon recover from a gunshot wound? Weren’t they afraid the boss would be just as mad over the loss of his succubus as the loss of nine, now seven, pieces of valuable merchandise?
“You must be really pissed at her,” Sugar continued. “You’re going to lose everything—all the money from our sale, all the money that you would have made helping with future sales. And the boss…he’ll hunt you down and kill you for this. He might take his wrath out on the demon, but he’ll know she didn’t put bullets into our heads. He’ll know. He’ll hunt you down and kill you both.”
“Shut up.” Catcalls pointed the gun at her.
“But if you find Kitten, the kid, then it’s all good, right?” Sugar’s voice crackled as she stared at his gun. “You can blame the demon for the other two, and the boss will be okay with seven at the sale. Hell, Red and the girl alone will make him a fortune. You can tell him how you both screwed up the demon’s plan and kept us from escaping.”
“Shut up,” he snarled.
“It will all be okay if you just find the girl. Lock us in here. Check the door and make sure it’s locked, then go help find her. It’s the only way you’re going to get out of this mess alive.”
The gun wavered. Indecision flitted across the guard’s face—indecision and fear. Then a muscle twitched in his jaw and the gun roared.
Everyone screamed and huddled on their cots, covering their heads—everyone except me and Sugar. The blonde girl sat as if frozen. I panicked for a second, then saw the chunk out of the concrete wall behind her, about two feet above her head.
“Shut. Up.” Catcall’s voice was soft and even. “Or the next one is going between your eyes.”
I saw Sugar’s chest rise with a tiny inhalation, and she nodded. We all obeyed, silent and afraid to move. I kept looking through the open doorway, across the warehouse floor, through the space under the bay door into the dark night. I could smell the cool damp air, feel the sharp jab of broken pavement under my feet. Freedom, so close. So close but completely out of reach.
Something shimmered just outside the bay door. Movement. A man hunched down to squeeze under the half-opened door, pushing someone ahead of him. Tears stung my eyes as he straightened and I saw Pockmarks, holding Kitten tightly in front of him, one hand tight on her forearm, the other twisted into her hair. He marched her across the warehouse floor while I held back a sob, then shoved her through the door and ordered her to one of the empty cots.
Catcalls let out his breath in a whoosh. “Damn, I’m glad you found her. Wasn’t looking forward to being on the run the rest of my life.”
“Yeah me too,” Pockmarks agreed, his eyes hard as he looked us over, counting, making sure we were all present and accounted for. “This shit can’t happen again. Give me the gun, then go get that rope and the chains.”
We all eyed each other, knowing what was coming. Sure enough, Catcalls returned and began to tie our hands behind our backs, chaining each one of us to the metal frame of a cot. When he came to me, he tied my hands, yanking the rope tighter than with the others, then pulled me to my feet.
“You can’t kill her,” Pockmarks told him. “We can’t lose any more girls.”
“She’s the ringleader of this little rebellion,” Catcalls replied. “I’m not leaving her in here with the rest of them. Who knows what they’ll do next with her around?”
I glanced behind me at the girls as Catcalls hauled me to the door, silently promising them that I’d rescue them. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow or this week, but I’d come for them. I wouldn’t rest until they were safe and free.
They took me to the room where Onions had stayed, where he’d tied me to the bed and raped me. There were still bloodstains on the floor. The sheets were stiff and crusted brown with the man’s blood, a perfect outline of white where my body had lain. Pushing me to sit on the bed, Catcalls yanked my one leg onto the mattress and chained it to the frame. I could lie down to sleep, but the chain was too short to put that foot onto the floor.
“Stay here, Red,” Pockmarks warned. He’d kept the pistol aimed at me the whole time, and was now shoving it into my face. “If you run away, every one of those girls dies. Every last one of them. You run, and you’re killing them.”
He jabbed the barrel of the gun against my forehead for emphasis and I nodded, knowing that he meant it. When he left, he turned the lights off, swinging the door closed and locking it.
“I failed.” It was as if something inside me had curled up and died. “I failed.”
You tried. A voice inside me said. You didn’t give up. You won’t give up. Until your dying breath, you’ll be doing everything you can to find these girls and free them. Them and Leethu.
But would my determination be enough? Sometimes someone did all the right things, fought with everything they had and still lost in the end.
Sometimes the good guy didn’t win. I’d suffered for my sins. I’d done my penance. But would it be enough? Would I be able to save these girls who’d become my family, or would I fail and be plunged into the depths of heartbreak and regret once more?
Chapter 21
That night I’d heard loud voices in argument. I’d heard the screams of the girls as Leethu fixed them. She hadn’t come to me. She would have known I had been already healed even if the guards hadn’t told her, and it was better if we kept some distance between the both of us right now. The guards knew she had something to do with our escape attempt, and they’d quickly notice whatever the succubus and I had going on between us and use it for leverage against her. I slept fitfully, hearing every step, every clink of a beer bottle discarded through the door. I assumed it was morning when they came for me, leaving my hands tied as they escorted me back into the room with the others. My entrance was greeted with relieved smiles, but we had little to celebrate. Today was the sale.
One at a time we showered, one of the guards watching and “helping” while the other stood guard. Clean, we sat on the edge of our individual cots and waited. Leethu was out in the warehouse, and from the voices and sounds of metal chairs being unloaded and set up, she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t just about escaping two guards now, one with a gun. Were there two, three more out there? Our chances were slipping away, approaching slim to none.
Leethu slid into the room, her eyes briefly meeting mine before edging away. “The boss has arrived.”
Pockmarks tensed, holstering the pistol and folding his arms across his chest, a studied expression of cool disinterest settling on his face. I bit back a smile. He would have seemed weak, needing a gun to hold a bunch of girls at bay. Catcalls made no attempt to hide his unease, swiping a hand across his forehead and shifting from foot to foot, the pole clasped tightly in his other hand.
They moved respectfully aside as the boss walked into our room. He was older than I’d expected—a man in his sixties with slicked-back silver hair and a wispy mustache. He was tan with lighter circles of skin around his eyes from sunglasses. A tan from the golf course? No, he looked more like the yacht type, with his open-collar button-down shirt and an expensive suit tailored for his fleshy body. He was clearly a man who liked to indulge—a man who wouldn’t allow anyone to get in the way of what he wanted, whether that was a snifter of brandy or an empire of wealth built on human sex trafficking.
“Line up,” Pockmarks ordered.
We stood and did as he said, partly because we were thrown off balance by the appearance of this new man in our room, and partly because the new man had a pistol in a shoulder holster clearly visible under his open suit jacket. I doubted he’d shoot us, not with the sale today, but I was pretty sure if any of us so much as sneezed, Catcalls wouldn’t hesitate to hit us with the pole. Neither of the guards would want to appear weak or lacking in control in front of this guy, especially when he was about to realize he was missing some of his merchandise.
“Strip,” Pockmarks ordered. We complied, and stood while the boss eyed us dispassionately.
“Leethu, do your thing,” the boss commanded.
Suddenly the room was thick with sexual energy. Our pupils dilated, breath coming short and shallow. Every girl in the room felt like they were on the edge of an orgasm. The guards weren’t unaffected either.
“Enough.”
The atmosphere fell with the word and we all gasped. So that’s what Leethu was to do at the auction. We’d be turned on, climax hovering teasingly just out of reach. And the clients would feel it too, wanting us and paying more than they probably would have under normal conditions. We’d all be drunk on sexual energy, to maximize profits.
“A nice batch,” the boss commented. “Have King get more young girls next time. Ten to fourteen years old. That one has racked up some serious online bids already. Eight her age or a little younger. We can do a specialized sale.”
“Will do boss,” Pockmarks agreed quickly.
He moved down the line. “I like the Russian girl. Nice. Very nice. This Mexican girl has a great ass.” He jabbed a finger at Baa. “And this one’s a pretty blonde, although she looks a bit used up. No more hookers or junkies, okay? They’re just not worth as much.”
“Got it,” Pockmarks replied.
“This…” He paused and stared at me. “Why is her hair that color? Her skin is amazing. It’s like alabaster, but that hair is very unnatural.”
“It wouldn’t take the dye,” Leethu explained. “We tried three different boxes, and they just washed right off.”
“And you didn’t think to use your demon abilities?” The boss’s voice held a recrimination. “You can enhance breasts, but you can’t change someone’s hair color?”
“I tried, but I wasn’t able to do so.”
There was a staring match between the demon and the boss. “And why was that?” he finally asked.
Leethu shifted ever so slightly. “I believe she may have a tiny bit of demon in her background. Possibly a few generations ago.”
“I see.” He moved on down the line, then paused. “Didn’t we have an Asian girl? And a black girl? King was bragging about the diversity of this bunch. I think I remember him saying something about a Russian, two Mexicans, an Asian, and a black girl.”
I felt the tension in the room. Catcalls swiped his brow again. Leethu bit her lip, the eyes briefly meeting mine full of amusement.
“No, these are the only girls we have,” Catcalls said, sweat dripping down his face.
“Leethu?” The boss turned to look at the succubus.
“There were nine. King sent us an extra this time. These girls are a feisty bunch and there were several escape attempts. The black girl died. The Asian girl escaped.”
The air was so thick that I struggled to drag air into my lungs.
“The Asian girl escaped,” the boss commented, his tone indicating nothing beyond mild curiosity. It frightened me more than any overt anger could.
“I had her behind a locked door,” Pockmarks explained. “You told us we were allowed to sample. I didn’t harm the merchandise. I left her behind a locked door with no windows, no means of escape. She was gone when I returned.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” The boss made a clucking noise with his tongue and shook his head.
“It was yesterday. She doesn’t speak any English. No one is going to understand her. We’ll move locations for the next sale.” Pockmarks remained calm and collected, but I saw the edge of his eye twitch.
“Her value will be deducted from your take,” the boss told him. “What happened to the black girl? I liked her picture. She was generating a lot interest online.”
“She was punished.” The look Pockmarks gave Catcalls was pure calculation. The boss followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow.
“The bitch hit me with a toilet lid,” the guard explained. “Knocked me out and damned near escaped. I taught her a lesson. Not my fault if the demon refused to heal her.”
I held my breath, praying that Leethu wouldn’t take the blame for honoring my, and Deena’s, decision.
“Isn’t this the second girl that has died from your overzealous punishment?” the boss asked Catcalls.
The man looked as if he’d suddenly been turned to stone. “The first. I just got carried a bit away. This one, she deserved the beating. She hit me, could have killed me. And the demon should have fixed her. She refused to do it. She’s trying to set me up—set both of us up. She helped the Chinese girl to get away. She’s been helping them in their attempts to escape. She’s refused to follow orders. We told her to heal the black girl, and she didn’t.”
The boss turned to her, waiting.
“She was beaten to death,” the demon calmly explained. “Even if I had been able to fix her injuries, she would have died within a few days. They took the discipline too far. There is a limit to my abilities when it comes to repairing human injuries. As for the others, you know I am forbidd
en by my summoning contract to help any of these girls escape.”
“The demon refused to fix the black girl and she died,” Catcalls protested. “She didn’t even try.”
“I did all I could,” Leethu lied. “I’ve repeatedly told them that I can only make cosmetic adjustments, repair minor broken bones, bruises, and abrasions. Internal bleeding, ruptured spleen, punctured lungs, perforated bowel, and swelling of the brain are beyond my skills.”
“There seems to be a lot of things you can’t do lately,” the boss commented. “Hair color. Fixing the injuries of one of our product.”
The demon didn’t even flinch as she met his eyes with a steady gaze. “When you summon a succubus, you get a sex demon. If you want someone to heal mortal wounds, I’d suggest next time you call upon an angel.”
I held my breath, worried she’d taken it too far. There was a moment of silence, then the boss chuckled. “True. So very true. I’ve no desire to summon an angel, though. In the future, my staff will just need to ensure they don’t beat the merchandise to death. What do you imagine the worth of that dead girl to be?”
Catcalls relaxed. “Three grand maybe. She was one of the hookers, and older. She wouldn’t get as much as the kid or the others.”
“Still, she was very pretty from the picture.” The boss shook his head, the corners of his mouth curving downward. “She had a very exotic look about her. I’m thinking she might have brought closer to six.”
Catcalls swallowed hard. “Then take six out of my take for the sale. If that’s more than my share, I’ll pay the difference.”
The boss smiled and nodded, the tension in the room dropping noticeably. “I appreciate your willingness to make financial restitution.”
Then with a smooth motion, so fast that no one had time to react, he pulled the pistol from its holster and shot Catcalls in the chest. The man crumpled to his knees, hands pressing against the wound as blood poured between his fingers.