Penance_An Imp World Novel

by Debra Dunbar

  “Two girls have died because you don’t know when enough is enough,” the boss told him. “Two. I’m tired of losing valuable merchandise due to your inability to control yourself. It’s embarrassing to tell clients that an advertised product has been pulled from the sale. It makes them think we’re doing deals on the side, that we don’t value their patronage. I’m tired of making excuses.”

  “I’m sorry.” Blood bubbled from Catcall’s mouth. “I won’t do it again.”

  “No you won’t.” And with that, the boss pressed the barrel of the gun to the guard’s forehead and pulled the trigger. My stomach lurched as blood, bone, and brain matter splattered across the wall and onto the baseboard. I glanced at the others and saw that while Pockmarks had paled significantly, Leethu appeared disinterested. No doubt she’d seen worse in Hel. No doubt she’d done worse.

  “I’ll send two other men to work with you for the next sale,” the boss told Pockmarks. “I trust there will be no more escaped or dead merchandise?”

  “No, sir,” Pockmarks replied, his voice hitching on the last word. “No further issues.”

  “Good.” The boss looked down at Catcall’s body. “Take care of this. Stuff it in a back room or something. Make sure there is no blood or anything to alarm our more delicate clients.” Then he turned to Leethu. “Prepare the girls. Auction begins in one hour.”

  “Are you in trouble?” I whispered to Leethu once the men had left.

  She shrugged. “Probably. I won’t have as much freedom as before. He’ll keep me contained and only let me out to accomplish specific tasks for him. It was worth it, though. I only wish I could have freed more of you.” Her eyes met mine, her palm rising to cup my cheek. “I wish I could have freed you.”

  “I’m not giving up.” I leaned into her hand. “No matter what happens, as long as I’m alive, I won’t give up. I’ll save these girls, and I’ll save you too.”

  Her smile was sad, indulgent, as if I were a naive child to be humored. “I know you won’t give up. Just promise me you’ll keep yourself safe.”

  “Is there anything you can do to help us?” Pistol asked. “Cause a distraction? Rain down a plague of locusts? Throw a burning bush into the mix?”

  Leethu shook her head. “There was some leeway before, but with the boss here…he will keep a tight leash on me. He knows magic. He has amulets and spells to instantly negate pretty much anything I could do.”

  The girls gathered close around us. “Will they chain us for the auction?” Sugar rubbed her wrists. “Maybe we can make a break for it.”

  “Seven against what are probably twenty guys?” Pillow’s eyes widened. “And they have guns. They’ll just shoot us.”

  “They will only shoot you as a last resort,” Leethu told her. “But if you try to run, they’ll catch you and tie you up, and laugh while they’re doing it. A girl who tries to break and run is seen as a little bit of sport. It’s fun for them. It livens things up a little.”

  “But there are seven of us,” Pistol insisted. “Maybe if four of us cause enough of a commotion, the other three can sneak away.”

  “There is no way you can sneak away,” Leethu said. “There will be guards at the exits and outside, and no amount of commotion is going to be enough for you to escape. Your best opportunity will be after the sale, when you are being transported by your buyer.”

  “But we’ll be alone then,” Kitten’s voice shook. “I’ll be alone in the back of a truck or van. How am I supposed to get away?”

  “Wait until they stop for gas, and make a commotion,” Pistol suggested. “Or tell them you need to go pee, then climb through the bathroom window. Anything. If there’s an opportunity, take it. Don’t be scared.”

  “Yeah, ’cause that worked so well for you and Tasha last time,” Sugar drawled.

  “It’s better than just sitting around and being a slave for the rest of our lives,” Pistol shot back.

  “Hey.” I stopped the argument with a wave of my hand. “Stop. We’re a family. We might be separated after today, but we’re still a family. Remember that. You’re never alone. Never. Be strong. Escape if you can. Survive. We’ll get out of this somehow. It’s not going to end this way. It’s not.”

  “That’s a lot of feel-good woo-woo there, Red,” Sugar scoffed. “I’ll survive, because that’s the one thing I’m good at, but we’re gonna be on our own from here on out. This family thing was nice, but it’s over. There’s no more family. There’s no miracle. It’s every girl for herself.”

  Just like it was before. I looked around at my girls and felt my heart break. I’d fight. I’d do all I could to my dying breath to save them, but Sugar was right. There was no miracle. I needed every one of them to think for themselves.

  “Survive.” I tried to brand the word into their minds. “Survive and never give up hope.”

  Leethu sighed. “And perhaps pray that Miller does not buy any of you. Your chances of survival will be greater if you are purchased by another client.”

  I shivered, remembering the mention of this Miller before.

  “He’s some kind of serial killer?” Pillow caught her breath. “He kills the girls he buys? That’s why he’s at every auction?”

  “Not every auction,” Leethu said. “But he is our most revered client. He doesn’t often buy the highest priced girl, but he’s a regular customer and occasionally he will buy two. Many of the clients are one-time only. Those are the ones you want. They are willing to pay a lot for the girl they choose. I think those girls stay alive and become personal slaves. Others run high-priced prostitution rings. They don’t like to spend a lot of money, but sometimes buy several girls.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” Sugar commented. “No different than what I was doing out on the street. And if they’re charging a lot, they’re probably treating their girls better.”

  “No,” Leethu’s mouth set into a grim line. “The rings cater to those with unusual tastes. I think those girls live longer than the ones sold to Miller and clients like him, but they do die.”

  “So, personal slave.” Pistol took a deep breath. “How do we identify those buyers, and how do we appeal to them?”

  It made me sick to think my girls had been reduced to this.

  “I can help with that,” Leethu told her. “I’ll concentrate my energy on those buyers who I believe might be looking for a personal slave. They’ll want you. They’ll be eager to pay more than they originally wanted. Hopefully they will outbid the others. There are no guarantees though. I don’t know the clients personally, and I’m not given access to their information. What I think is a safe buyer may be a killer attending for the first time.”

  Pistol nodded. “Thank you. It’s better than nothing. I’ll take my chances and just hope I don’t get some Dahmer dude.”

  The demon turned to each of the girls in turn going down the line and placing a kiss on their foreheads, muttering words in a strange language. Each girl shimmered with a glow, a glamour that drew the eye and quickened the pulse. When she was finished, she came to me.

  “Do I get a kiss too?” I teased her, not wanting whatever we had to end on such a desolate note.

  Her hands cupped my cheeks. “You don’t need my glamour, Red Bird. Your beauty needs no enhancement.” Something sparked in her dark eyes. “But I will still kiss you.”

  Her lips met mine—soft, sweet, and full of desperation. When she broke the kiss and stepped back, I saw there were tears in her eyes. “Good luck to all of you.”

  She turned and fled the room, closing the door behind her. I knew without even trying that it was no longer unlocked on the inside. This wasn’t a good time for escape. Later perhaps. Later when we were alone and afraid, without each other’s support.

  My family was about to be fractured. And something deep down inside told me this wasn’t the first time I’d experienced such a tragedy as this.

  Chapter 22

  We sat for what felt like days in our room, the only sounds our
breathing and the faint noises from out in the warehouse. They’d taken our clothing away, but none of us used sheets or towels to cover ourselves. Why bother?

  The air was cold and thick with fear. Kitten pressed up against me, shivering. It was like waiting for our execution. Time had run out, and now one by one we’d be led up to the stage, to the scaffold. All my determination withered. I slid my hand down to lace my fingers with Kitten’s, so afraid for her. Her parents were probably panicking right now that she didn’t return from band camp. Her sister would be climbing into a cold, empty bed, trying to hold tight to what memories she had. They’d mourn her forever. I’d mourn her forever. All these girls, I’d mourn them all, but this young, frightened girl most of all.

  I flinched as the door opened.

  “Line up.” Pockmarks ordered. I saw a flash of defiance in Pistol’s eyes, followed by fear as she dropped her gaze. Freedom was no longer our goal, survival was. Slavery was our future, and every one of us was hoping our buyers wouldn’t kill us or make us wish that they’d kill us.

  Kitten stayed close as we lined up. Pockmarks rearranged us into some predetermined order, then opened the door wide. The stage was lit by two tall lamps like the kind used in photoshoots. In front was a row of chairs. It looked like there were close to two dozen men there, although I was sure a few of them were bodyguards.

  The boss stepped onto the stage and welcomed the crowd before gesturing toward us. “And here is today’s selection.”

  “Move,” Pockmarks growled, poking Sugar in the ass with the broom handle.

  We moved. The guard brought up the rear, keeping us going forward at an even pace, occasionally smacking his hand with the stick, reminding us the price for defiance. He lined us up on the stage, spacing us a few feet apart. The lights radiated heat and I felt a trickle of sweat pool under my breasts. The buyers moved close, staring and commenting. I kept my gaze a few feet above their heads, trying to breathe, trying not to panic.

  “Turn around.” Pockmarks thumped the stick on the stage and the sound echoed like thunder. We turned, and while I could still hear the buyers commenting on our backsides, at least I could no longer see them.

  “Face front,” Pockmarks commanded. We complied.

  The boss went into an explanation of how the bidding process would commence, reminding the buyers that there were several online bidders they’d be competing with. Then he offered closer examination.

  They were allowed on stage two to three at a time to run their hands over our flesh, to pinch and prod and put their fingers anywhere they wanted. They checked teeth, checked the firmness of our breasts and butts, checked how tight we were. Silent tears rolled down Pistol’s cheeks, her face pink with humiliation. Baa was nearly hyperventilating, she was breathing so fast. Sugar had that dead, resigned expression in her eyes of someone who’d been through this sort of thing before. And Kitten…poor Kitten. The boss was very clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any of the clients harming the highlight of the auction, but she was clearly drawing a lot of attention. Every single man fondled her, touched her, asked about guarantees of her virginity as well as her age. One man was disappointed that she was thirteen, asking the boss if he anticipated having anything under the age of twelve at the next sale.

  Something flickered inside me at the boss’s affirmative response, and his announcement that he intended to have several sales that were exclusively with product under the age of fourteen.

  Once we’d all been felt up, the boss fielded several questions. He had a few of us turn around again for a backside view, then announced the auction would begin with the most anticipated piece of merchandise.

  Kitten. He was going to sell her first. I clenched my jaw tight as Pockmarks grabbed her around the neck, squeezing as he pushed her forward.

  “Internet bids are up to eight thousand on this one. Just look at her in person. Only thirteen years old and a virgin. Beautiful, young, nubile, and a blank slate to train as you want. You’ll have many years of fun with this one before she even gets a hint of a stretch mark. Isn’t she adorable? How about nine thousand? Do I hear nine?”

  I shook with rage. We were just money to these people, just product. Deena’s death hadn’t mattered. A young girl died, and it didn’t matter to any of them beyond the loss of money and the embarrassment of having to pull her from the auction. Catcalls beat her to the point that the bones in her face had broken, that her skull had broken, that her ribs had splintered and punctured one of her lungs. She’d been in agony. He’d raped her, beat her. He’d killed her. And none of them cared.

  Would Kitten face the same thing?

  “Ten thousand from Miller. Do I hear ten five?”

  My breath left my lungs in a whoosh. Miller. The one who killed the girls he bought. The one who tortured and killed his girls. He couldn’t buy Kitten. Let him take me instead, not Kitten. I followed the bids anxiously, my heart leaping every time Miller raised his hand. Thirteen thousand. Surely he wouldn’t spend thirteen thousand dollars on a young girl just to kill her. Those crazies grabbed women off the street, they took junkies and prostitutes and girls who wouldn’t be missed. They didn’t spend huge sums of money buying someone just to kill them. I stared at the man, horrified as his thoughts began to spool into my mind.

  He’d keep Kitten alive. She’d be special. All the other girls would die, but Kitten would be trained, coveted like an expensive crystal vase. But the things he would do to her….

  “Going once. Going twice. Sold to Miller for thirteen thousand.”

  “No!” Kitten cried out, her hands covering her mouth. Her shoulders shook with sobs as Pockmarks grabbed the girl’s arm and turned to lead her off the stage and into the hands of her owner.

  “No!” I echoed, stepping forward to block them from the stairs. “He can’t have her. I won’t let him have her.”

  “Red Bird, don’t,” Leethu warned, her voice low with fear. “Let her go.” I ignored her and stood my ground.

  You can’t help them if you’re dead, the demon silently told me. Let her go.

  But I couldn’t. Not Kitten. And not to Miller. I raised my chin and met Pockmarks’ eyes. “He can’t have her.”

  There was laughter, a few comments of how I was feisty and would be fun to break. Pockmarks raised his stick. “Get back in line.”

  I reached out and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held Kitten and held tight. “Let her go.”

  The stick hit me on the arm. I gritted my teeth and met his eyes. I raised my hand at the next blow, grabbing the stick in my hand.

  Thunder—far off but closing in fast. The stage trembled faintly under my feet. The stick creaked in my hand. Pockmark’s eyes widened then narrowed.

  “Tell you what,” Miller called out. “I’ll throw in an extra thousand and take her as well.”

  “Sold,” the boss replied.

  A smirk curled Pockmarks’ lips. “You can watch him fuck her, Red. Won’t that be fun?”

  I hated this man, hated him as much as I’d hated Catcalls, as much as I’d hated Onions. Fury rose from my depths, spreading outward with a silvery light. Sweat beaded on Pockmarks’ skin, and he blinked in surprise. The sweat turned pink, then red—blood welling from his pores, streaming down his face and body, soaking his clothing. The blood began to smoke. The clients in the audience gasped then fell suddenly quiet.

  The silence was broken by a piercing scream from the guard. Pockmarks’ hand left Kitten’s arm and yanked from my grasp as he pawed at eyes that were bubbling and blistering in their sockets. Smoke came from his mouth and nostrils, from the blood pouring from his skin. Then the screams ended, and hot blood flew everywhere, splattering me, the stage, the buyers seated near us. Pockmarks dropped to the ground, his eyes empty black craters.

  It was just like Onions. He’d been killed just as Onions had been killed. Was there a guardian angel protecting me, as Deena had thought? Or…or was it me that had somehow done this?

  There was a gunshot that ech
oed around the warehouse, ringing in my ears long after the sound died. I saw Kitten slap her hands over her mouth, crumpling at the waist as she stared at me in horror. I heard a scream in the faded echoes of the gunshot. Leethu. It had been her scream, crying out in fury and fear.

  Pain. Sharp and hot, radiating from my chest outward. I looked down and saw the nice round hole gushing red. My knees crumpled and hit the floor.

  “Don’t kill her,” Leethu pleaded, tears in her voice. “I beg you, don’t kill her. I’ll do anything, just don’t kill her. I can fix her. She’ll be okay. Give her to me. I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause any more trouble. Please.”

  Two legs moved into my line of sight. I traced them upward and saw the boss standing in front of me, a pistol pointed at my head. My chest hurt. My legs felt cold. I couldn’t feel my hands. A thought flitted through my mind, wondering why the boss didn’t explode on the inside like the others had. It would be really nice if that happened. Why wasn’t that happening?

  “You want her do you?” The boss’s face blurred and tilted, but I was sure he was sneering. “She’s some kind of demon, isn’t she? She has to be a demon, and not just a little, not someone generations ago. She’s a full demon and you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t! She might be a half-breed.” Leethu’s voice was closer. Shaky. Higher-pitched than normal. “She’s not a full demon. I swear it, I swear it. I can keep her in line. Please give her to me, please.”

  “No.”

  Gunshot. Screaming. I could do nothing to catch myself as I fell to the floor. I couldn’t close or move my eyes. Cold. Static. Something touched my cheek—a hand and something wet. The pain faded and I shrank down deep inside, pulling away from flesh into something hot and bright. I hovered, rising above my body like a morning fog.

  “Get over there and do your job,” the boss ordered Leethu, grabbing her and yanking her away from me. She stumbled down the steps. Then the boss took Kitten by the arm and led her down to Miller who pulled her close to his side.