I run a hand across my forehead. Before I was captured by the Emperor, I worked in a dilapidated factory with hundreds of women. We were made to assemble weapons for the Imperial Army, while the men in the town were dragged to the mines and mountains to be worked to death. The factory was overseen by a retired soldier, Officer Goddot, who was none too pleased about his premature retirement. He took his frustration out on us often. Some of the women in the factory shared the same dormitory as me. We slept and worked together, whispering our fears and secrets to one another before we fell into an exhausted, unhappy sleep each night.
Did they blown up the factory in my town? The one where I worked? What about all the women who worked in the factory? What happened to them?
“Irin,” I interrupt her in a hoarse voice.
“Yes?”
“W-what happened to the women?”
“Women?”
“The women who worked in the factories.” I clear my throat. “You said you blew up some weapons factories. Were the workers in the factories when...?” I trail off, swallowing painfully.
“We blew up the factories at night. There were no workers inside. Just weapons.”
I let out a small sigh of relief. “But the Imperial Army will retaliate against the town,” I mumble almost to myself. “They'll be made to pay.”
My eyes are on the floor, and I see Irin's boots appear in front of me. “Make them pay, Zoey. Make the Emperor and his Imperial Army pay. Find out everything about them, their plans, their weaknesses, anything. Make them pay.” She grips my shoulder. “Can you do that, Zoey?”
I look up at her and see my own fervor and determination reflected in her gray eyes. “Yes,” I tell her firmly.
“Good. You don't have much time. You will be dropped off at the Red Lantern at midnight. Someone will receive you with a question. These are your responses and questions.” She hands me a small piece of paper. “Memorize them now.”
I take the slip of paper from her and frown at the series of meaningless, seemingly nonsensical questions and answers scribbled on it. They make no sense to me whatsoever but I dutifully memorize every line of the gibberish text and return the piece of paper to Irin.
She flips a lighter and burns the paper to ashes. Grinding the ashes beneath her boot, she cocks an eyebrow at me and asks, “Do you know what goes on in the Red Lantern? Do you know...what you have to do?”
I gulp. “Yes. I know.”
When I don't say anything more, Irin takes pains to spell it out for me, making sure I do know what is expected of me. “The Red Lantern is part of the Lantern chain of novelty brothels run by the State,” she intones. “There is the Red Lantern, the Lavender Lantern, the Golden Lantern, and a host of other Lantern branches. The Wardens dispatched to the Lantern brothels are soldiers from the Imperial Army. They are rotated every week or so. For security reasons. The Red Lantern is the closest from where we are. It is built to resemble a medieval castle, right at the very top of a cliff, catering to the rich, the powerful, the well-connected, people who can make anyone they wish disappear with a snap of their fingers.”
She snaps her own fingers to emphasize her point.
“What you may be made to do there might be...highly traumatizing for you. But you can find out information, important information that few would be privy too.”
I take a shuddering breath. I can do this. I know that Irin wants me to do this for the resistance. But I am only doing this for Jaxon.
“I will make sure I get the information,” I answer.
Information about Jaxon.
She goes to her messy desk and pulls out a box from under all those papers. Extracting what looks like a small black stud from the box, she holds out the stud to me and says, “Wear this. When you press it, it will record your message, encode it and transmit it to us. But you can use it only once.”
I take the stud from her and hold it up to examine it closely. It is designed to look like a small earring, almost like the one I am wearing on my right earlobe. The one Jaxon had kept with him for ten years. My mother's earring.
Carefully, I thread the black stud through my other ear, and fasten the clutch behind my earlobe. Hopefully no one notices my mismatched earrings, but heck, mismatched accessories seem to be all the rage right now.
“As a Siren, you've been groomed, by the Matrons in the Palace,” Irin begins slowly. “But now, you have to groom yourself. Before you go to the Red Lantern, you'll have to...”
“I understand,” I say quickly. “I know what to do. If you'll let me have a razor blade, I'll make sure I'm thoroughly groomed in an hour. Or less.” I shrug.
In the Palace, all the girls were made to stand on platforms while the Matrons, who had once upon a time been Sirens themselves but who were now maimed or disfigured, painstakingly made sure that the Sirens were all groomed to hairless, polished perfection. When I first laid eyes on the Matrons, I'd felt as though I was staring directly at my fate and my future. This was how Sirens were used and abused. This was how I would end up. Missing an eye, ear, some fingers, with scars twisting down my arms and legs. It was horrifying, tragic, and so sad. The Matrons always shuffled around with their head lowered and eyes averted. Many of them were young, in their twenties or thirties at most. But all the life had been tortured out of them.
I had been groomed with care by a gentle, soft-spoken Matron. I still think of Gwin, and I wonder how she is. Will she have a chance to escape? Will Mam Mallisa help the rest of the girls? Nothing is for certain, and everyone is in danger. Right now, I can only think of Jaxon. And the danger he is in.
I look up to see Irin staring at me with an odd, unreadable expression on her face. I can't tell if it is pity or admiration, or just morbid curiosity. There are only four members in this underground cell and all of them know that I was a Siren in the Palace before Jaxon rescued me, but no one has ever asked me about my experience in the Palace. Maybe they had been warned by Jaxon. Maybe they don't really want to know all the ugly, sordid details about what goes on behind the gleaming Palace walls.
“I...I know what to do,” I say, squirming slightly.
I certainly know from experience how to groom myself and rid my body of every strand of hair, from under my arms and between my legs and all over. Save for the hair on my head, I'll be completely smooth.
Irin laughs softly, but it is a humorless laugh. “I know you do. I just want to make sure that you are ready. If you are not ready, then you can't fight. This is a fight. Make no mistake. You are going to the Red Lantern to fight. To get what is necessary. You have been training with us for a few weeks now. Put your training to use, Zoey.”
I stand up and look her right in the eye. “So, can I have a shaver now?”
With a lopsided smile, she presses one into my hand. “Go eat, wash up, do what you have to do and meet me back here in an hour. We have much to go over.”
CHAPTER THREE
“We're here,” Irin tells me over her shoulder as she navigates the motorcraft skilfully around the shadows, hugging the side of the sheer cliff face. The motorcraft hovers silently under an overhanging rock. On one side of me is a sheer, steep rock face. On the other side, huge waves are charging relentlessly at the vertical rock wall, breaking against the rock with an angry roar.
I gulp and shiver in my thin T-shirt and track pants. My feet are bare and dangling over the sides of the hovering motorcraft.
“Get ready. We're here,” Irin repeats, louder this time.
I grip the edge of my seat harder as the motorcraft tilts at an angle.“I am ready.” As ready as I'll ever be.
Silently, Irin eases the motorcraft out from under the rocky ledge. I see lights flickering at the top of the cliff. The Red Lantern is built to look like an ancient castle, sitting atop the rocky cliff. True to its name, the battlements are adorned with red lanterns instead of flags.
We hover up and land in the shadows of the Red Lantern, behind a tall stone wall. I clamber down from the motorcraft. �
�Do you remember all the passwords and codes?” Irin asks.
“Yes.” My life depends on it.
“Good luck, Zoey.”
I nod, and open my mouth to wish her luck back, but she has already taken off. Flattening myself against the wall, I watch the motorcraft dip down suddenly from the edge of the cliff and veer sharply away, receding rapidly into the gathering clouds.
Okay. I am on my own.
As briefed, I inch my way along the wall until I find a back door with a black dot shaped vaguely like a human skull at the top right hand corner. I give it a tentative push with my shoulder and it swings open quietly. I slip in and just as I close the door behind me, a hand closes on my shoulder.
“What are you?” a female voice asks.
“A...a giraffe,” I say, listening to my own shallow breathing which sounds too loud in this dark, cramped space.
“And what does a giraffe need?” The grip tightens on my shoulder.
“A collar.”
“What for?”
“He has a fever.”
“For that he wears a sweater.”
“What color?” I whisper.
“Gold.”
“And the moon?”
“Black.”
The hand lifts from my shoulder. I spin round to see a masked face and a pair of dark, black eyes. The woman is wearing a black satin mask over her eyes, the long-sleeved black uniform of the Imperial Army and a cap pulled low over her face so that I can hardly make out her features. I won't ask for her name. Neither will she ask for mine. She has responded correctly to all my answers and questions, the ones that I had committed to memory before Irin reduced that piece of paper to ashes.
This Imperial soldier is a member of the resistance.
She is a head shorter than me, but she walks with long, powerful strides. I follow her out of what appears to be a storeroom and scurry up various flights of steps.
She enters a room and closes the door quickly behind me. Her eyes look me up and down once, before reaching for the shelf behind her and handing me a stack of clothes.
“These should fit you. You wear the sarong to sleep. The rest you keep folded at the foot of your mattress.”
I stare down at the clothes in my hands.
“Change now,” she says impatiently.
Hurriedly, I count the pieces of clothing. A tank top, a pair of tight shorts and a sarong.
“I wear...just the sarong?”
“Yes.”
“And...underwear?”
She whirls round, frowning. “You're wearing underwear? I thought I told Irin explicitly...”
“No, no. I'm not wearing any. Irin told me...”
“Good.” She seems to exhale with relief. “The girls here aren't allowed any.”
I take off my old T-shirt and track pants and wrap the sarong around my body. Irin had showed me how to secure the sarong round my body and had made me practice until she was satisfied. The woman stoops and bundles my discarded clothes into a plastic bag. I'm guessing my old clothes are about to be incinerated.
Her eyes widen a little. “Perfect. You're a natural.”
“I've had practice,” I deadpan.
She nods and starts to reel off information in an urgent, low voice, “There are around forty girls in the Red Lantern right now. More may be coming in in the next couple of days and nights. I've put you in the least crowded room. You'll be sharing the room with five other girls. Just lie down on your mattress and go to sleep. Or at least, pretend to sleep until you hear the bell. Then just follow the girls. Do what they do. And blend in. There will be a roll call by the Warden on duty. Your name is already in the database. You've been in the Red Lantern since two nights ago. Your name is Ana Zen.”
“Ana.” Right. I am not Zoey Whard. I am Ana Zen. Remember, Zoey, I mean Ana. Don't screw up. I repeat my new name in my head.
“Let's go, Ana. Just remember the first and last letters of the alphabet. A for Ana. Z for Zen.”
“Oh, I see. Thanks.” I smile.
I see her eyes crinkle in a quick smile before she turns away.
“Um, wait.” I frown. “Won't the other girls, or the Warden, notice that I...well, that I'm new?”
“There will be a new Warden coming in tonight. The Wardens are rotated every week. I will leave tonight once she comes in.”
Her words take a few seconds to sink in. My eyes round. “You...are the Warden.”
She makes no response, neither confirming nor denying my statement. But I know that I am right. “Why can't you stay longer?” I mumble half to myself. “I could certainly use your help...”
At this, she narrows her eyes. “There is a reason why the resistance cells are kept small,” she says evenly. “We only interact and know the identities of a limited number of resistance fighters. That way, if our cover is blow and we are captured and tortured, there is little that we can reveal. You will never know who I am. For everyone's sake.”
I nod, feeling my face heat up. Jaxon and Irin had explained this to me before. I must sound like such an ignorant fool.
Without another word, she leads me up the steps and through the shadowy corridors. Despite the outward appearance of an ancient castle, the interior is modern and posh, designed and furnished like a classy hotel. I pad silently across the soft carpeted floor of the sprawling foyer, gasping at a towering marble statue in the middle of a gleaming fountain.
The trickling water sound ominously loud in the silence of the sprawling castle. I squint hard at the looming shadows, but I don't see any movement. There doesn't seem to be anyone around.
Where are the rest of the guards, or servants? Where are all the girls?
Spooked, I scurry down the long corridor after the Warden. She stops abruptly in front of a narrow sliding door in the wall, and taps an electronic key against the side panel. The door slides open, revealing a darker, narrower corridor. I step in after her, and immediately wrap my arms around myself. Am I imagining it, or has the temperature dropped suddenly? The floor here is not carpeted, just bare concrete. There are no wood panels on the walls, just cracked, unpainted bricks. There is like another world, compared to the facade of luxury beyond that sliding door behind us. There are three metal doors on one side of the dark corridor. The Warden stops in front of the middle door and whispers, “This is the least crowded room. There are five other girls inside. When you enter, just lie down on the empty mattress nearest the door. You will find your toiletries at the head of the mattress.” She places her hand on the door knob. “Take care, Ana Zen.”
I turn to her, staring into the shadows under her cap. It is impossible to even make out the exact color of her eyes. Are they dark brown, black or even midnight blue? Even if I saw her again, which is highly unlikely, there is no way that I will be able to recognize her.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “You take care too.”
She nods and eases the door open silently. I step into the room and hear the door close behind me. As instructed, I tiptoe a few steps to the empty mattress near the door and lie down. There are a few soft snores and whimpers in the dark, and I make out some movement in the far corner of the room. I can hear a quiet sigh, a snort and some mumbled words.
I freeze.
Someone is awake. She would have seen me come in.
Would she expose me?
I don't move a muscle and wait. After a long silence, there is a huff and I see someone fluff out her blanket and turn roughly to her side, away from me. I finally let out the breath that I had been holding, and blink furiously up at the ceiling.
Well, here I am. In the Red Lantern.
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I peer round at the five girls huddled under their covers. There is a stack of old mattress in the far corner of the room. The Warden had mentioned that there would be more girls coming in soon.
Gingerly, I touch the small stud on my left earlobe. I have only one chance. I can press this earring just once to record a single message to the resistance.
I will have to be very careful, but I have to act quickly. The longer I take, the less time Jaxon has. He is in danger. I know it. I can feel it in my bones, in my very soul.
I tug the blanket up over my body and curl tightly into a ball. I will survive, and I will succeed. Everything has gone smoothly so far.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to snatch whatever little sleep I can. But my dreams are only of Jaxon.
Where is he? What has happened to him? Is he alive, dead or dying?
Flickering images of Jaxon, bloodied and horribly mutilated, flash on the back of my throbbing eyelids. My body is drenched in cold sweat, my mouth wide open in a silent, choked scream. But there is nothing I can do. This is a nightmare that I cannot wake from. Or perhaps this is a nightmare that is only just beginning.
CHAPTER FOUR
A bell tolls, jolting me out of a discordant dream. I jerk up, blinking away the jarring, terrifying images. The red haze fades from my vision and I gape at the strange, spinning room in confusion. Where the hell am I?
And who are all these people?
Five girls are standing at the foot of my mattress, pointing and whispering. They are clutching towels, mugs, toiletries in their hands and staring at me with mixed expressions of curiosity and fear. They fall silent when they see that I have awoken, but two girls continue whispering.
“...she just came in last night...”
“Do you think she was caught or bought or transferred?”
“There might be more coming in tomorrow night...”
“...yeah, to replace the last dozen who were...”
“Shh! She can hear you!”
Well, duh.
I blink their faces into focus. Three of them look around my age, between eighteen to twenty, while the other two look a little older, probably in their mid to late twenties. They are all clad in the same, teeny-weensy sarong which doesn't quite cover everything it should. I glance down at my own body. My own sarong is crumpled and askew, exposing one of my breasts. With a gasp, I snatch up a fistful of cloth and try to cover myself.
Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series) Page 2