by Vivian Lane
CATHERINE
When one monster kidnaps college girl Catherine, her only chance at freedom is to trust a different one. If she can’t discover a way out in six weeks, she’s dead.
This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.
The Echoes of Ossiria series is contemporary fantasy.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as this is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
By Vivian Lane
Based on a character created by K.C. Taylor.
Published by Phantom Ridge for Willowick Publishing
Copyright
2014 Vivian Lane The right of Vivian Lane to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First Edition
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Echoes of Ossiria series
#0.5 - Ossiria’s Darkest Day
#1 – Catherine (an origin story)
#2 – Knight Rejects
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Chapter One
1986
A young man entered the café wearing a black sweater and dark jeans and ordered a black coffee. Catherine felt his gaze, and looked down, blushing. “Hi. May I sit here? Seems to be busy tonight.”
She pushed her books to the side. “Oh, sure! I guess with the sudden cold turn, everybody wanted something warm,” she said quietly, and glanced down at the open book before her, unsure whether to close it or go back to reading.
“What are you studying?” His eyes were green. She liked green.
“History. With a minor in British Lit, just because I like it. I’m a bit of an overachiever, I guess.” Her cheeks reddened further.
“We can learn a lot from the past,” he said. “I have a passion for art, myself.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, I m-mean, you look more like a…” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment.
“A jock? Well, there is a thrill to a good chase. My father would have preferred I go into the family business, but, I’m here. Do you like L.A., Miss…?”
“Catherine Mitchell. Yeah, I guess… I’m used to it, I mean. I’m from the ‘burbs.”
He managed to coax everything out of her after that: how her grandmother raised her after her parents died when she was twelve, that a college education had been a parting gift from her parents, and the grandmother was now in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, and freshman year had been a bit lonely so far with the exception of her roommate.
When the café announced it was closing, he walked her home to the dorm. “This is probably going to sound weird, but could I sketch you sometime?”
Her eyes widened to comic proportions. “Me?”
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to, it’s just…you’re so pretty, and I need to practice my life sketches. Forget it; you don’t even know me…” He started to walk away.
“Wait. Um… I guess I could meet you in one of the art rooms…”
“Thanks,” he said, sighing in relief. “Everybody already has a subject, and the assignment’s almost due. You saved me, Cate. Can I call you Cate?”
She stroked her long hair behind her ear and blushed again. “I guess. I can meet you at the café tomorrow evening?”
“Great,” he said with a smile. “I can’t wait.”
He walked off, whistling to himself as he turned a corner.
Catherine couldn’t believe she agreed to sit for some art project, but he’d sounded…desperate, and she knew what it was like to face a deadline here. He’d been nice and sweet and listened a lot. She was only a freshman, but there was already a lot of pressure.
Setting her backpack on her bed, she looked at the mirror attached to the closet door. Pretty? She was okay. A nice enough figure for dressy clothes, if she could be bothered. Long, straight brown hair that she usually braided. Blue-gray eyes often hidden behind reading glasses since she was always studying. Five-foot-four was good enough—short enough to wear heels around men, tall enough for clothes to fit with ease.
But pretty?
Maybe his artist’s eye saw something she couldn’t.
She shrugged and pulled her history book out. There was still another chapter to read before she went to bed.
The next night, Catherine waited with her hot chocolate for him to show up at the café. She was really nervous, and hoped he wasn’t expecting her to pose nude. She didn’t have that kind of bravery.
He showed up a couple minutes later dressed similarly to the previous day. “Hey. I’m really glad you showed up.”
“I’m a girl of my word.”
“Shall we?” They walked to the Art building to use one of the classrooms. He opened the door for her. “After you,” he said, then covered her face with a cloth as she passed him.
She struggled but his hold was too tight. Her world went dark. She felt her body going limp.
Arms caught her on the way down. He caressed her face with a cold finger, her soft skin prickling with goose bumps. “You’re entering a whole new world, Cate. We’re going to have so much fun!”
What is he going to do to me?
****
“Wakey, wakey, Katie…”
Catherine’s eyelids fluttered as she neared consciousness. She felt dizzy, even though she knew she was lying down. She tried to lift her hand to rub her eyes, only to discover her wrists were bound.
Her eyes flew open.
“There’s my girl. I thought you were going to sleep the whole flight.”
“What…? Where…?”
“On my jet, somewhere over the Atlantic. I want to introduce you to a ‘friend’.” He seemed to find that idea funny, chuckling nastily.
Her ankles were tied together, too. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
She took a better look at him now her eyes had cleared. Everything was different, but it wasn’t the change in clothes that frightened her—it was his demeanor. Like Mr. Hyde had won over Dr. Jekyll.
“Why? Because I can,” he answered gleefully. “You see, sweetheart, you’re no longer in the safe little coed life you knew.”
His eyes changed to red and black veins stood out under his skin. He covered her mouth so she couldn’t scream. “Now, now, Cate…you really want to save that for later, when I’ve earned it. I so love a good scream. Here’s the deal: I’ve been bored, you’re mine now, and you’re gonna be trained to please me.”
She shook her head in denial, because that was all she could do.
“Cate, you really don’t have a choice in the matter,” he said with false regret. “I could always just kill you, but then I’d have to find another girl, and you wouldn’t want me to be so inconvenienced, would you…?” He shook her head ‘no’ for her. “Good girl.”
“Please…” she whispered.
“You hear that, boys?” he crowed. “I haven’t done anything, yet, and she’s already begging! Ohhh, you’re going to be SO much fun, little Cate. Starting now.” He cut a line into her ankle, making her scream, then licked the blood off his finger before dragging his nail across the first line to form an “x”. “So much
better than those little tattoos the girls get, huh?” Hard evil eyes bored into hers. “If you’re naughty, I can make the scar permanent.”
“I won’t…I won’t…” she sobbed.
He patted her knee. “Glad we understand each other! So, let me tell you a story about a girl…”
He described horror upon horror in lurid detail, slapping her if it appeared her attention wasn’t fully on him. He didn’t touch her hard enough to bruise, but her cheek felt hot from the sting just the same. The monster delighted in her tears, licking them off her skin when they escaped, then laughed at her efforts to not cry anymore.
What had she done to deserve this?
When the plane finally landed, he loosed her ankles, fastened a tacky rhinestone collar around her neck and tugged her along by a leash, then made her sit on his lap in the car. The minions laughed at her humiliation, barking like dogs and making lewd gestures.
Catherine stared out the tinted windows, trying to ignore it all.
It was soon apparent they’d landed in London at night. She had no idea what time it might be or how long she’d been unconscious before. He took her watch.
What would happen to her in the next few days? Would she live? Would she ever see her grandmother again? Would her roommate try calling the cops?
She contemplated everything as she sat there, rigid and stoic as possible. She wasn’t going to give that bastard the satisfaction of her fear, though he probably knew just how much she felt, anyway.
She hated that he kept stroking her hair.
Hated being thirsty and not able to ask for water.
Hated needing to use the bathroom.
Hated the way her stomach was growling loud enough for her to hear it.
They drove for a long time out of the city on a highway. The lack of food was making her sleepy, but she couldn’t chance passing out around this bunch. Her bladder wanted to leap for joy when they finally turned down a private road. The car pulled up in front of an enormous house that had to be very old. Probably the 1700s originally.
The minions opened the door for him.
He tugged hard on the leash as he started for the mansion. She barely avoided falling. Walking now made her acutely aware of the poor shape her body was in.
The big doors to the place were opened as they approached.
A woman with a shoulder-length bob stood in the entrance. “Tallis! I hope your flight was pleasant,” she said.
“Alicia. I’d have one less minion if it were anything less. Where’s William?”
“In the parlor.” She backed further into the house, leading the way.
Catherine looked around. The home she entered was part Gothic bordello, part Victorian opulence, with everything in shades of red, gray, and black.
Tallis—apparently Liam wasn’t his real name—tugged her toward the parlor, which was dark green and cream. A man with medium blond hair lounged on a settee, a drink in his hand. He rose as they entered.
“Long time, no see, Willy. I’d almost think we weren’t family anymore,” Tallis said.
He sounded pouty, but she knew by now it was only an act. The two men looked ready for a skirmish to break out.
“We were never chummy, you ponce. Nor are you my family. This the girl?”
Tallis let go of the leash so William could walk around her. Catherine kept her gaze on the floor, but she could feel the blond man’s scrutiny from head to toe.
“This is what you bring me? She’s totally green! You expect me to turn out a human in two months? No deal.”
“Hundred grand says you can, and will.” Tallis wasn’t deterred that easily.
“If she was part demon. For a human? Six months, and no less than five hundred.”
“She’s already smart, so you only have to instruct her physically,” Tallis countered.
William rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna bloody turn her, anyway. Just have at it and save yourself the dosh.”
“It’s better my way! Two-hundred-fifty for two months. You can’t afford to turn that down, Willy. Word gets around, you know…”
“Three hundred on a tentative contract. If she isn’t close in six weeks, then you have to give me the appropriate time,” William said.
“Done! You won’t mind if I check in periodically, of course.”
William sneered. “Of course. Any subject you want her to focus on?”
Tallis dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Do anything you want to her, I don’t care, as long as she remains…untouched. I prefer to take care of that break-in personally.”
“Whatever.” William obviously didn’t care, either. “Alicia! Escort the wanker into the office so he can sign a contract.”
“Happy to!” she sang.
They left the room.
Catherine attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. She’d just been…sold. To this…whatever guy for “lessons”, whatever that horror entailed.
She wanted to go home and pork out on pizza with her roommate and snuggle into her comfy bed. But wishing, so far, hadn’t made this nightmare end.
She froze in fear when the blond man grabbed her chin and lifted it to look in her eyes.
“What’s your name, girl?” he asked.
“Catherine,” she whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.”
His grip tightened. “You will answer questions I ask and only questions I ask. Are we clear?” His eyes were crystal blue and a little too bright.
“Yes.”
“You’re what, eighteen, nineteen?”
“Eighteen.”
He nodded in confirmation. “American…university student?”
“Yes…”
“The rules here are simple. You do as you’re told when you are told, and you will be treated well. Disobey me, or any of your instructors, and you will be severely punished. Understand?”
Catherine nodded. He let go of her chin and unbuckled the collar around her neck. His fingers were cool against her skin.
Another monster?
William snapped his fingers, and a previously unseen man came forward.
“Take the girl to the kitchen. I’ll retrieve her shortly.”
The servant bowed, and took her arm. “Yes, sir,” he said, and led her deeper into the house.
The servant only gave Catherine a glass of water, a hunk of bread, and a slice of cheese, but it might as well have been a gourmet feast. Of course, gulping down the water reminded her of her need to visit a ladies’ room. Not knowing the protocol for talking to a servant, she raised her hand and waited for him to speak to her.
“Yes?”
“I need to use a bathroom.”
The servant rolled his eyes, but didn’t get angry with her. Instead, he took her by the arm again and led her to a tiny powder room she could use.
Catherine whispered “thank you” and closed herself inside. There was no lock. She couldn’t have tried anything, anyway, since the room only had a sink and a toilet and no windows.
It was the first time she’d looked in a mirror since leaving the dorm to meet “Liam”. Her hair was fuzzed out of her braid in spots, her face had bags and bright pink patches, and her clothes were rumpled and dirty.
At least she was finally untied.
She gently washed her chafed wrists, then the “x” dug into the inner side of her ankle. Her sock had been rubbing against it since they put her shoes back on to move her.
The servant rapped on the door. “Time’s up.”
She came out and was escorted back to the kitchen, where she was told to sit and wait for “the Master”.
William came in, his eyes always assessing her. “Get enough to eat?”
Should she be honest? “N-no, sir,” she mumbled.
He snorted. “Tallis never did remember the practical things.” He opened the refrigerator, then tossed a carrot on the table. “You’ll be on a strict diet, here. No snacks or sweets or junk. Finish that, and I’ll take you to your room.”
She was getting her own room?
She bit off the end of the carrot, wishing it had been peeled first. The outer skin was always a bit bitter.
Her new captor heated something in a mug, watching her as he sipped it. He would be handsome if he didn’t look so stern and cold. She felt like a bug under a microscope.
“Come on,” he finally barked. “It’s getting early.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and nodded, rising from her seat. He steered her where he wanted to go by putting a firm, strong hand on her shoulder. His grip wasn’t painful, but definitely unyielding. She figured he could probably crush her shoulder with one squeeze if he wanted to.
They went up two flights of stairs to the top floor and down a long hall. He finally stopped at a door and took a key out of his pocket to unlock it.
“This door has no internal lock. It will be locked from the outside whenever you are in here until we know you can be trusted. Don’t bother trying to escape out the windows—you can’t.”
The light flicked on, and she saw a surprisingly pretty bedroom. There was a twin size canopy bed opposite the door and a matching dresser against the wall in dark-stained wood. The walls were papered with medium blue brocade, and the linens were cream. There was a pile of boxes in the corner.
“My things?” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Tallis was very thorough,” he said. “The loo is through there. Nothing fancy. Understand, Catherine, that anything can be given or taken away depending on your behavior.”
“Yes, sir. May I ask a question?”
He pursed his lips, but nodded consent.
“What exactly am I here to learn?”
“Many things. By now, you might’ve guessed you are not among human life as you know it—you’re among demons. As many species of animals on this planet, you’ll find just as many demons, and they range from barely more than animals, to highly powerful evil beings. In Tallis’s case, there’s not an ounce of humanity left in him. The pompous bastard likes to make certain appearances, and that’s where you come in. You’ve heard of a courtesan?”
“Yes, sir.” In Renaissance usage, a courtesan came to refer to “the ruler's mistress”, and then to a well-educated and independent woman, a trained artisan of dance and singing associated with wealthy, powerful, or upper-class men who provided luxuries and status in exchange for companionship. Not to be confused with today’s reference to a high-dollar call girl.