The Taken - Part 4

Below is the fourth installment of my story, The Taken. If you haven't read the first three installments, please click here for Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” I mumbled as I walked out of our classroom. As promised, Billy was standing just outside the room, leaning up against the cave wall.

“Hello beautiful,” he said, flashing me another grin.

“Don’t call me that,” I hissed.

“You’d rather me call you ugly?”

“I’d rather you not call me anything.”

“Ouch, Em. Ouch.” He gestured down the hallway with his chin and I followed him after a moment’s hesitation.

Billy rambled on and on about his day and we soon found ourselves in the commons. It was abuzz as people scurried around. Some were on their way to do evening chores while others were meeting up with friends to just hang out. I spotted the hallway that led to my room and nearly made a break for it, but Billy turned down the hallway too. On and on he talked, as if I cared about everything “Billy”. When we reached my room, he stood to the side of the doorway and waited for me to go inside.

“Was that our date?” I asked hopefully, still standing in the hallway. Please, oh please let that be Billy’s idea of a date. I could handle listening to him yammer about himself if it just lasted a few minutes.

That hope died as he narrowed his eyes on me. “No, I’m letting you drop off your things.”

I looked down, noticing that I was still holding my books. I stepped inside my room and set them down on my bed. Billy stepped inside as well, not caring that he wasn’t invited.

“Nice,” he said with appreciation. “I see that you still have some things that I brought back from our supply runs.”

I faced him, not trusting him for one second. Number one: I didn’t like him in my room; Number two: I didn’t like the two of us being so close to a bed. Knowing Billy as the upstanding gentleman he was (Riiight), I shouldn’t worry about him attacking me.

“Are you going to change?” he asked after looking dubiously at my clothes.

“No.” Like I would change for him. Like I would change for any of them.

“Pity,” he said, flashing a half-smile. “I would have offered to help.”

Oh I was sure he would have. I rolled my eyes. “What are we doing Billy? I thought you said you didn’t want to waste one minute?”

“You’re right,” he replied. He reached out and grabbed my hand and held it so tight that I couldn’t wiggle free. We were out into the winding hallway the next second and Billy had resumed the one-sided conversation about his entire life up to this very minute. I tuned out and let him lead me, nervous about where he was taking me and what his plans were.

“Football?” I asked a minute later, my mouth gaping open. “We’re playing football?”

Billy laughed and finally released my hand as he made his way over to his buddies. “Yeah, see? You won’t find a better date,” he said. His chest puffed out and he appeared every bit as cocky as he could get. Travis, Blake, Clay, and James looked over at me, and if I had to guess, they were a lot happier to see me than I was them. Travis, Blake, and Clay were Billy’s age. The three of them had been nearly inseparable since I could remember. James was a few years younger, but his larger build gave him the perfect “in” for what I liked to refer to as the Brute Squad. I never did understand why he hung out with them, he seemed a lot nicer than the others.

“You better mean that you guys are playing football. I’m not getting in there with you,” I said, glaring at Billy as he fist bumped the others.

“Oh, you most certainly are, Davenport,” he said. His tone was anything but joking. “You’re mine tonight.”

My teeth gnashed together. “I’m no one’s,” I growled.

This only seemed to make him laugh.

They more or less ignored me while they decided on teams. Billy, of course, wanted to be on the team opposite me. Being that I’d never played football, it was a certainty that my team would lose. My “date” chose his team mates, which consisted of Blake, Clay, and of course Billy. I was on Travis and James’ team. Each team split up for a quick huddle, so the other guys went to the far end of room, near where the cows and chickens were safely tucked away in their corral. Travis and James stood by me.

“You ever played?” James asked quickly.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Okay,” he said, as though he though that had been the case. “I think we all know what game Billy is playing, and it only partially has to do with the ball.” He said this pointedly at me.

I know my eyes widened, but it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

He looked over his shoulder and I followed his gaze, seeing that the others were already breaking from their huddle. He faced us again and gave me what must have been the fastest rundown of the game ever.

I pretty much nodded along, trying to remember the rules and terms, and just before we split up, he added, “Em, you’ll play football just like I explained. Trav and I will be playing too, but we’re also going to try to keep them away from you. You ready?”

I nodded, but my uncertainty was plain on my face. He stepped in closer and put his hand on my shoulder, eyes burrowing into mine. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if you get hurt, okay?”

“Kay,” I said lamely, giving him an answering smile.

He broke his hold and stepped away. The three of us met the other three in the middle of the room. Someone had already drawn lines in the sand for where the goals were. I knew I could catch a ball—not that I’d ever tried to catch a football—so I hoped that wouldn’t be a problem. If I caught the ball, I knew I’d have to run like hell.

Copyright © 2014 Katalyn Sage

Poverty's Pool Part 2

Here's part 2 of "Poverty's Pool". You can read part 1 here: http://writerchics.blogspot.com/2014/05/povertys-pool.html

Ethan helps me off the bed and pulls my body close to his. Supporting me and without a backward glance at the gawking faces around the room, he leads us out into the hall. The shock of the situation leaves me trembling. He holds me tighter. It doesn’t help.

With my mind racing to digest everything I’ve learned in the past two minutes, my body will never relax. Not only is Ethan’s dad alive, he’s rich. Why would Ethan leave money and starve with me in the streets? What drove him away and why is he dragging me back into the world he ran from?

He’s looking at me. He knows I’m about ready to run out of here as fast as I can. I’m only waiting for the effects of the shock bullet to wear off enough for me to feel steady on my feet. He pulls me into an empty room and shuts the door. He doesn’t bother turning on the light. I feel his face in front of mine. My body trembles harder.

“Cass,” he whispers.

My breath catches. He puts his hands on my shoulders as he gently leans me back into the wall.

“When you went to the pool the first time, it was because it was the only way you could think to save my life, right?”

I nod, but remember it’s pitch black in the room. “Yes,” I squeak.

“This is the only way I knew to save you. I know I’ve lied to you, but you have your secrets too.”

My face scrunches up. The only lie I told was about going to the pool the first time.

A low laugh leaves his throat. “I know the look on your face, but I’m not wrong. Sure, you lied to me about going to the pool before, but I know you’re not telling me the truth about yourself, about your eyes.”

The trembling stops and I stand still as stone. No one knows the truth about purple eyes. At least, no one I’ve ever encountered. Once I started practicing as a healer under my dad’s watch, I caught wind of the rumors that began. They were superstitious stories from children’s books, but among the poor, that’s as good as truth. Business at our apothecary dropped off until it disappeared completely. It’s my fault my family ended up on the street. If it hadn’t been for my eyes or for the way I understand medicines, things would be different. Maileen would never have gone to the pool. She wouldn’t have died from the Gutter, leaving me as the oldest sister in her place. And my parents wouldn’t have gotten it from her, leaving the rest of us kids as orphans.

Pulling myself out of this depressing reverie, I whisper, “What do you know about that?”

Ethan has never been dumb, but no one knows about my eyes. Not even my parents. But, Ethan is much more than he ever let on to be. The police chief bowed to him. That kind of power comes from more money than I can even imagine. What wouldn’t Ethan have access to in that kind of environment?

“Probably more than you.”

I tense under his resting hands.

“Hey.”

His fingers lift my chin so my face is lined up with his, or where his must be in this impenetrable darkness.

“If I wanted you for your eyes, I would have made my move long ago. That’s not what makes you the biggest target.”

I can’t imagine anything being more dangerous than having purple eyes.

“Ethan.” A voice echoes down the hall. It’s the police chief. He drops his hand. Whatever he was going to say is gone. Our time alone is disappearing fast.

“I’m asking you to trust me. You’re life is in danger now and my father will be at the head of the mob. Can you trust me and play along with whatever I tell him?”

He’s telling the truth. If he wanted to use me because of my eyes, he would have done that already. I’m trapped in a situation I see no way to escape from. My shoulders droop in resignation. “Okay.”

He pulls me to his chest in the first hug we’ve ever shared. It’s not that we didn’t care about each other before. There just never seemed to be the right moment or mood to express physical affection. That’s not a luxury for people on the streets.

We slip into the hall behind the chief. After a few steps, he hears us following him. He opens the side door to an alley and waits for us to walk through. The nicest car I’ve ever seen sits idling in the brisk wind. A chauffer jumps out and opens the door, beckoning us to go in. Ethan’s words ring in my ears. His father is my enemy and I’m walking into his lair.

I duck into the car. It’s the first car I’ve ever been in. I doubt regular cars are this nice. I look across the seat and see a face I recognize. His picture is plastered all over the walls of the building we just left. He’s the czar of the prostitution pools. Staring at anything I could as I awaited the fate of my virginity in the waiting hall, I studied his picture long and hard. He didn’t share one feature with Ethan. They stare at each other now.

“Did you really think you could hide forever?”

That was it. His opening line to his son he hasn’t seen for at least two years since Ethan’s been in the Terrs with me.

“This is Cass, my fiancé.”

I meet his eyes and then look away. There is a hunger in them that alarms me.

“You seem to be so prepared to provide for a family, sending your ‘fiance’ to the pools.”

“It’s a long story.”

“One you had to use the power of my name to get out of. It’s that same power that has kept you out of the work camps for three years. I’m glad you’ve finally found a girl to marry so I can stop bribing the camp czar to forget about your age.”

Ethan is silent. I add another tally to the lies Ethan has to clear up later. He’s twenty, not turning seventeen. This day couldn’t get much worse. I don’t want to say anything. Hell, I don’t even want to be here. I stare at the floor.

His father sits back in his seat and pulls out a cigar. “How long have you two love birds been engaged?”

My hand is crushed tighter by Ethan as he sits a little taller and says, “Six months. We’re saving money to pay the court dues for our wedding.”

His father rolls the cigar. “Six months is a long time.”

“We’ve already fooled around, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

I grind my teeth. I will kill Ethan as soon as we get out of this car.

The smoke swirls lazily as his father takes in the news. “No you haven’t. Running away might have been a rash decision, but that doesn’t make you stupid. You should know I’ve already checked up on your ‘fiance’. She’s been to the pool before, four months ago. She went through an exam. She was confirmed a virgin and was injected with the ‘vitamins’ to keep her healthy. Now, I know you see where all of this is going. I know what you’re trying to hide, but nothing gets away from me. Not even you.”

Ethan dives for the door, dragging me behind him. He slams his face into the window. The door won’t budge. His father laughs, not having moved from his reclined position across from us. “She’s more valuable than even you, my boy.”

Turning to me, he says, “Welcome to the family.”

The Red King

I just wanted peace. Was that too much to ask for when I was locked in a cold cell? I didn't think so, but apparently the high-pitched screeching coming from the hall had a different idea.

“Out of my way, maggot! I can go anywhere I please.” I heard the loud metal of the heavy door swing open and lazily stood to my feet. A woman wrapped in the most beautiful red silk ever made came storming inside. Long, shiny, brown hair tumbled down her shoulders in perfect waves and her lips were painted the exact shade of her clothes. I heard a few timid catcalls from the neighboring cells, but no one wanted to elicit the wrath of the Red King. Well, no one except me.

“So, you’re the little tramp who tried to kill my love.” Shea. That’s what Canton said her name was. I met her fierce brown eyes easily.

“I assure you, that was a mistake. If I’d really been trying, he would be dead.” Not exactly true. I was trying to kill him, but she didn't need to know that.

“How dare you. Do you even realize what kind of a position you’re in right now? I could have you put to death this instant. Your pathetic attempt to steal what belongs to us has landed your entire guard in our dungeons. They would be utterly helpless if I dragged you out of here by your hair and slit your throat.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. The Red King would never allow it. Apparently I’m worth more alive than dead to him.” I wasn't entirely sure why I was trying to provoke her, but I could see that it was working. “Don’t you find it odd he refused to have me killed after I came so close to ending his life? Why do you suppose that is?” Shea’s delicate fingers closed into tight fists at her side.

“My king’s actions are his own for now, but I trust he has a good reason. He can, however, be easily persuaded if given the right motive.”

“I can see why you’re so upset,” I told her as I crouched down in front of the thick, steel bars. “I would be too if my betrothed preferred his enemy’s daughter to his fiancé.”

“You worthless rat. How could anyone prefer you to me?” I couldn't actually answer her question, because the truth was, I didn't believe it myself. The Red King had been spending a lot of time down here, but I knew it wasn't to be near me. He was smart, calculating and a heartless tyrant no matter what he pretended.

I refused to believe otherwise and be the downfall of my entire people like so many ancestors past. I would finish the job I came here to do, even if it caused my own heart to stop. It was a worthless organ anyway.

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. One thing I know for sure though; the look on his face when he heard you had come was not one of adoration and love. He couldn't have been more disappointed.” I barely finished the words before she screamed and ran toward my cell. I sprang up just before she could reach me and tensed my body for a welcome fight.

Instinctively I knew the men in the cells around me were also on their feet, having heard the entire exchange. I also knew, as Shea pointed out earlier, they could do nothing to help me. And I was glad for that. I wanted this fight, needed it.

I shot forward, faster than the pampered woman could react to, and grabbed her thin arm. Twisting it back behind her, I grabbed her other shoulder and slammed her back into the bars of my cage. I released her shoulder and slid my arm around her neck before her two personal guards could ply me off. I didn't actually care about hurting her; I just wanted to prove a point. I released my hold easily, desperate for what came next.

“Kill her! Now!” a red-faced Shea screamed. Her guards exchanged uneasy looks, but eventually decided their fate would be worse if they didn't obey the future Queen. Three more guards flew into the room with confusion written all over their faces, but it was too late.

I heard the click of my cell door and jumped up to grab the bars overhead. Using the momentum of the opening door and my swinging body weight, I pushed against the door and knocked the surprised man to the ground.

I landed on my feet just as Shea’s other guard swung at my face giving me barely enough time to dodge it. Grateful the other three were hesitating to jump in, per the Red King’s previous orders, I took full advantage of fighting the lone man still determined to get his hands on me.

Taking a moment to step back and assess the situation was a huge mistake on his part. I didn't hesitate a second before ducking into the man and thrusting my elbow into his nose, crunching bone and sending him flying into the wall by the door.

I whirled on Shea who screamed and dove behind the protection of one of the guards. It didn't matter to me though; my only thought was getting out of here. To do that I would have to take down everyone who got in my way.

Forcing the man closest to me to engage in fighting pretty much tipped the internal struggle they were having before, and two of them attacked while the other stood protectively in front of Shea.

My body felt alive with adrenaline and my senses clearer than they had since I was brought down here. I was meant to work, to move, not sit around like Shea and entertain people I didn't like. Female or not, princess or not, I was good at fighting. Something my father would never understand and the Red King underestimated, almost costing him his life.

I loved being able to defend myself, not having to rely on others to take care of me. I threw a pitying glance at Shea who obviously didn't know anything about dignity and courage, hard work and sacrifice. She didn't know what it was like to be desperate to help those she loved, and being powerless to do something. But I did.

I watched my people being hunted down until we were forced to flee the only home I’d ever known. That’s why I begged the Captain of my guard to train me without my father’s knowledge. That’s why I came to the Red City to kill the man I knew was responsible for so much of my pain. That’s why I have to get out of this place and complete the mission I set out to do.

Finally getting in a lucky shot to the kidney, one of the men hunched forward, giving me the chance to crouch and sweep my leg under his feet, knocking him off balance. Fortunately for me his head smacked against the unforgiving ground and I knew he wouldn't be up again soon. Unfortunately for me, I’d spent too much time getting him to go down.

The other guard I’d been fighting launched himself at me, catching me around the waist, and pulling me to the dirty floor. His weight knocked the wind out of me and while I struggled to suck in the air I so desperately needed, he wrapped his large, meaty arms around my body, successfully pinning my own arms to my side and causing little black spots to dance in my vision.

I stopped fighting to catch my breath and the man, assuming he’d gained the upper hand, picked me up and proceeded to walk back to my cell, obviously not aware of Shea’s orders to have me killed.

I used the moment to gulp down sweet oxygen, forcing it to my lungs and brain, only allowing enough time for me to be capable of fighting once more. Something warm and sticky trickled down my temple and I idly wondered if it was my blood or if it belonged to the man holding me.

Finally my vision cleared and I noticed we were two feet from my cell and my opportunity to free myself. I readied my legs to push against the sturdy holding, hopefully catching the man off guard and either causing him to drop me or better yet, lose his balance and fall to the ground with me on top of him this time.

“What’s going on in here?” a deep voice boomed from the doorway. Everyone froze at that voice. Despite the achievement of just having recovered enough air to fight, my breath again became labored and shallow. My heartbeat instantly quickened and my pulse raced underneath my skin.

The reaction was even stronger than fighting and I prayed the man holding me wouldn't acknowledge the owner of the voice and just let me stay hidden, safe from the eyes I felt searching for me.

Everything was playing in slow motion now. The man crushing me wisely loosened his grip, but wasn't smart enough to let go of me completely. He turned with me still in his arms and I kept my eyes averted from the man who commanded the entire room. Even my guard, shouting encouragements and instructions earlier, fell silent at his presence.

The three men I’d taken out were shakily rising to their feet with the help of the man who had stood watch over Shea. The princess had thrown herself in the Red King’s arms the moment he appeared and sobbed shamelessly on his shoulder. I felt the hatred for the spoiled princess increase tenfold, but still I refused to meet his eyes.

It had been three days since I’d seen him. Three days since the princess arrived and he’d taken my father out of his cell, leaving no more doubt in my mind what kind of a person he really was. I would never forgive him and I would never forget the hurt I felt from his betrayed promise to not harm my family. I knew I shouldn't have believed him and I hated myself more than anything for trusting someone I knew to be so evil.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone else enter the room. Someone so familiar the shock and surprise of his presence once again stole my oxygen. I lifted tear-filled eyes toward my father and let out a small sob of relief. I assumed he was dead, tortured into giving away our secrets and silenced forever. Instead he stood just as strong and proud as any King should, completely unscathed. I searched every inch of him; desperate to see for myself he was really okay.

“Thaila,” the same voice as before commanded. Reluctantly I tore my gaze from my father’s to finally meet the pair of blue eyes I’d been avoiding. Blue eyes that were so intense, I was suddenly grateful for the guard still holding me upright, even though I knew the action would ultimately lead to his suffering.

I felt bad for the poor guard, but the moment my eyes locked with the Red King's it was like no one else existed but us. I felt the heat from his gaze and was sure mine was just as hungry, despite how evil he was.
"Canton," I heard myself whisper. The guard holding me sucked in a sharp breath at my intimate use of the King's name, but I couldn't make myself care. I drank in every inch of his face even as I mentally prepared myself to do whatever was necessary to end this. The Red King had to die. And I had to kill him.

He didn't even glance at Shea before pushing her away and stalking toward me. I saw the devastating look in her eyes turn to pure hatred for me, and this time the pity I felt for her was genuine, even if her anger was misplaced.

“Are you alright? What happened in here?” he asked coming to a stop in front of me. The guard holding me fidgeted nervously, finally realizing the mistake he made in keeping his arms around me. He dropped them slowly, trying not to draw Canton's attention. I marveled at how much older he was than his King, yet how different they seemed in stature.  

“Sir, she was trying to escape,” he foolishly tried to explain.

Thankfully for him, those blue eyes were completely focused on me, anxiously awaiting my response.

*Copyright Jayne L. Bowden*

Blaze is talking to me again

As some of you may know, I've had a pretty hard time writing one of my current WIPs. Not only did I lose a massive amount of the story that I'd written, but I found that after starting another series, I had a hard time refocusing on my delectable Guardians again. Throughout this week, I've felt that spark of life in my Guardians again. Where there backs have been turned to me for not making backups of my backups of my backups, they're at least starting to peer at me from over those shoulders, and my main hero in this novel has finally started talking to me again. So, below is a section of Blaze's story. For anyone who has read the story so far, the end of this section may sound familiar...only from a different view. I hope you enjoy, and no I haven't paid much attention to editing, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

No flippin’ way. There was a body. She walked right up to it and snapped a few pictures from different angles, narrowing her eyes at the strange elongation of the guy’s face, and the dark bluish-black liquid that ran off his body and pooled in the snow. What the heck was that, oil?

“Campbell.”

Sophie cringed at the familiar, gruff voice and turned, seeing Detective Harris stalk toward her. “Harris,” she greeted. Dammit, she’d thought she’d be here longer than a few minutes before the jerk saw her.

“What are you doing here? You know you can’t get this close.” He lifted his hands up as though he was going to herd her like some sort of cow back to the police line.

“Freedom of the press.” She shrugged, lifting her chin a degree. She refused to back up a single step. She was not a heffer, thank you very much.

“Freedom, my ass—” 

“I’ll handle it from here,” another officer said. 

She turned toward the newcomer and smiled as Harris’s partner strolled up to them with a shake of his head that was directed at her. 

“Detective Larkin. Nice to see you.” She lifted her camera again and snapped a picture at Elongo-Face without even looking through the viewfinder. No need. She was pretty sure she nailed it.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, though she knew damn well he found her charming. Why wouldn’t he? “Right. Listen, you’re disrupting a crime scene and we’re pushing everyone back anyway.”

“Disrupting? Me? Nuh uh, I’m just minding my own business. I promise, I haven’t even approached any dead bodies that have cops around them. Just this guy so far, and he was all alone over here.”

Larkin shook his head warningly. “Sophie. I’ve known you a long time. Your Dad and I—”

“Nuh uh, not tonight, Larkin.” She shook her head, not wanting to hear about how close he and her dad had been when her dad was still alive. They’d been partners in crime, keeping the good city of Newark safe behind their shiny badges. She reached into her bag and extracted her voice recorder. “Can you give me a report on what’s going on here?”

“No more than what I’m sure you heard on your radio. Put that thing away.” He reached for it and pushed it down as Detective Harris sauntered off to speak with other police officers, all of which were tense as they kept guns trained on the house. Even Larkin kept his hand on his gun, even though it was still holstered. It was then that she noticed that he kept himself between her and the house. “Listen. This isn’t some quick story that I can help you out with. This is serious, Sophie. And if I let you get in harm’s way I wouldn’t be living up to the promise I made on your dad’s headstone.”

Sighing, she clicked off the recorder and dropped it into her purse again. “I’m just really trying, you know? I’m up for a promotion.”

“I know,” he smiled kindly, but with an air that he was still keeping an eye-and-a-half on the house. “I heard you were up for it. Put in a good recommendation for you too.”

That was a surprise. “What’s going on? Off the record.”

He eyed her silently for a minute before he released a slow breath. “I can’t say.”

“Come on. Don’t make me sit here all night.”

“Stubborn as your old man.” A sympathetic smile appeared. “Off the record, we haven’t gone in yet, but we have a team on the way. There were…violent sounds inside. It’s gone silent since then, but we have no idea if it could be a hostage situation.”

“Another one?” Jack-freaking-pot.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t nearly as enthused. Not that she was enthused. She hated violence. But this could be just what she needed for a certain promotion and, even better, raise. 

“Have you gotten out the xylophone—”

“Megaphone.”

Yep, as soon as she’d said it, she knew she’d called it the wrong thing. Damn, she needed another shot of Buzz-Be-Gone. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“No, we haven’t. We’re working on getting a visual. If you’ll just go back to the street and stay on the other side of the tape, I’ll get statements together and I promise I will talk to you if I get clearance. I just need you to go where it’s safe.”

Larkin looked exhausted. No doubt this new development was nerve-wracking, especially after what happened at the Children's Hospital in Newark. The police had been cautious then as well, and an even bigger disaster had struck, which had rocked the entire state of New Jersey. Investigations were still going on, and a lot of families mourned those lost, hoping and waiting for some kind of answer. 

“Deal. Just give me two minutes.” Sophie stepped around him, heading toward the house. She couldn’t help but take a few more pictures of another body that was in front of the home, despite the detective’s attempt to stop her. From this view she had a nice angle of the house as well, with two windows behind the body—one of which was broken. Holding the viewfinder to her eye, she snapped one picture, then another. 

Something moved in the background as her camera snapped a picture. She quickly zoomed in for a better look, focusing on the windows. She snapped another pic without even realizing she’d moved her finger. Sophie lowered the camera, unable to rip her gaze from the unbroken window. 

There'd been a man peering through a gap in the curtains. In that split second of seeing him as her flash went off, she'd noted black and blue, spiked hair, and wide frame. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she’d seen blood on his face before he’d dodged out of her view.

Detective Larkin stood next her, so close that her shoulder brushed his arm. “What’s wrong?” 

Her eyes never left the window, even though she couldn’t see that deadly apparition anymore. “There are definitely people inside. Or, at least one person.”

“You saw someone? Where?”

“In that window. He’s gone now.” Hitting the view button on her camera, she pulled up the last picture she’d taken, holding it for Larkin to see. Yep, right there. The man’s eyes reflected back at her in the picture. Coupled with his large build, spiky hair, and blood streaked face, he looked a good deal more than merely frightening.

Detective Larkin cursed under his breath and gripped the radio at his shoulder. Speaking into it, he informed the station that there was confirmation on people inside. The crunch of snow under his boots alerted her that he’d hustled over to other cops, where he told them to watch for movement in the windows. 

Sophie pulled the memory card out of her camera. There was no way in hell was she giving that up if they seized her camera. She removed the card and stuck it in her pocket, all while keeping her eyes trained on that window. 

She willed the man to return to the window so she could catch another peek. It hadn’t been his hair or the blood that smeared his face that had captivated her. There was something in his eyes that took her breath away, that made her feel as though she’d never forget the way they looked. His eyes hadn’t just reflected back at her in that picture. They’d been that way when she’d seen him in the window, when there’d been no flash at all.

It was almost as if they glowed.

© Copyright Katalyn Sage

Poverty's Pool

I know it's out of character for me to do a serial, but this story was getting too long for one post. Here is part one of Poverty's Pool.

The decaying sign swings in the cold breeze. Only desperate people come here. I’ve always known this place existed. I never wanted to walk through those doors, but I’ve run out of options. It’s not the first time I’ve been this desperate. I push open the door and Ethan follows me.

I’m glad he came. As much as we argued about it and how badly I wanted to hit him over the head for his insistence, I need him here. If I came alone, I would have run back the way I came screaming my head off. If anyone understands my desperate situation, it’s him. He’s just as poor as we are. He has just as many siblings to feed as I do. And his parents are just like mine: dead.

We move to the end of the line. I’ve sold everything I could possibly sell for money. I’ve asked every business in town for work, any kind of work. No one cared that we would starve if I didn’t find a way to feed us. They threw me out their doors, worried I’d scare off business. I couldn’t blame them. That's how it's been my whole life. I can't change the way I look.

They say I can do this just one time, that I don’t have to commit to more than one night, to one customer. Even once is too much, but I’m down to the very last thing I have to sell: myself. I am nervous as hell.

I turn to Ethan. “How bad is this going to be?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who is going to choose you. I…” His hand trembles as he scratches his forehead. “I don’t think they’ll care if they hurt you.”

“Maybe you should do it to me first so I can be prepared.”

He takes my hands but keeps his eyes on the floor. “You get five times as much if you’re a virgin.”

My hands are shaking in his. I know he’s right. I just don’t want someone rutting at me like a hog. At least I know Ethan. It wouldn’t be so bad with him. But to have a stranger’s face so close to mine, foreign hands touching me, it is almost more depravity than I’m capable of. Almost.

There are four of us to feed. I would rather die than let those helpless stomachs ache for want of food. Those little hands that curl around my neck at night after the meager meals I manage to scrounge up for them are more precious than anything I have left in my life. I can do this for them.

I take my hands from his. “You’re right. That kind of money will feed us for at least six months. That will give me time to figure something else out.”

                

                I get back in line. We’re at the front. “Name?”

“Cass Mullen.”

Ignoring the papers I shove in front of her, the receptionist clacks on the computer. From a drawer, she hands me a folder. Pins hang next to my name. I know what they mean, but it can’t be right. I tell the receptionist so.

“My records are never wrong.”

Ethan looks at me. I can’t read his expression. I can’t tell him I’ve been here before. How am I supposed to tell the receptionist that the man who chose me took me to a back room, but didn’t use me for sex? I didn’t tell anyone I didn’t sleep with him because I couldn’t bring myself to come back here. Payment is only given after customers file a satisfaction report. My payment never came. It’s my word against his. It’s not even that. It’s his money against my poverty. Money wins every time. If he’s buying virgins from the prostitute pool, he’s got lots of it.

                

                “There was never a report filed. There was never an exchange of money. It never happened.”

                

                “Like I said before, my records are never wrong. Move aside.”  

I’m shoved out of line. Ethan doesn’t look at me. I don’t know why I kept it a secret from him. He was the one who found me in the street after that bastard beat me. He was the one who nursed me back to health and fed my family while I recovered. I grab his hand and pull his face to mine. “Do you remember that time you found me half dead in the gutter?”

He pulls his hand away from mine and nods, refusing to look at me.

“It was when the infection had you. I went to the apothecary shop to get some herbs to heal you, but the owner didn't want me in there. I begged him to sell me the herbs. Finally, he told me he would sell, but for eight times their value. I could either hurt him and steal the herbs or I could come to the pool to get the money." I look up at him and take courage. "I came here. The man that bought me didn’t use me for sex. He was just looking for a punching bag. After he got tired, he threw me out. He never touched me that way.”

Finally he looks at me. He studies my eyes.

“If it really happened, we wouldn’t be starving. I would have been able to buy the medicine you needed and I wouldn't have been unconscious for three days.”

"You had the physical exam and everything?" He is looking me over with panic. There's another emotion on his face, but I don't know what it is.

                "Yes, I got the health injection too. I am healthy, but underweight. What else would you expect though." He isn't upset with me. That's more than I hoped for.

                 His expression changes. He believes me. A huge breath is released from his chest and he relaxes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie about it?”

                "It would have upset you more than the lie I told. It was the only option I had. Just like now."

He looks uncomfortable, like he knows what he wants to say but doesn’t know how to. “Look, I’ve been setting aside what little I can for whenever I marry. I…What if I let you have the money?”

“You can’t give me your money. You turn seventeen in two months. You only have four months to convince some girl to marry you or you’re thrown in the work camps. Two months isn’t enough time for you to save up enough for a girl who deserves you.” I don’t tell him he could never save enough money to get a girl that deserves him. 

He shifts on his feet. “I wouldn’t be giving you the money if we were married.”

“Ethan, you've never looked at me that way. I've never thought of you like that either. There's never been enough comfort in our lives to think about anything beyond survival. You don’t want to marry me. You want to protect me. Don't throw your life away looking after me. You don't have any obligation to us. Besides, I’m not good for you. I’m not good for anyone.”

“But I want you. Ever since I first saw you, I’ve wanted you.”

I know I’m not good for him, but I’m selfish. He’s a hard worker. We've been pooling our resources  together for over a year now, feeding both our families. If we were married, it would be even easier to keep food around. Married people have more job options, more ways to make money. 

I stare hard at him. He doesn't flinch. I make up my mind. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Just as we push open the door to leave, someone shouts from behind us. We freeze. Turning, I see the man from that night a few months ago. He’s walking toward us. An officer is with him. “I want her. I never got to use her for what I wanted.”

The receptionist moves from behind her desk, toting my record with her. “What do you mean?”

We all know what he means. The receptionist is already scribbling a change in my record. She pulls the pins from the frame. Now my record is clean. Shining, just like my virginity. Everyone in the building is staring at us.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not for sale.”

The man scowls. I brought on his rage that night. He had every intention of using me as the prostitute he purchased. I thought I could sacrifice myself for Ethan. I thought I appreciated all his work for my family that doing something like that would be a small price to pay for him. He would die without the medicine and that was the only way I could pay for it. When the man touched me though, I knew I wasn't selfless enough. My instincts took over. I kicked the man in the throat. Then I ran for the door. It was locked. There was only one key and he had it. I went back for it, but he'd recovered by the time I reached for it. I didn’t stand a chance. He was a grown man. I was an undernourished, skinny sixteen year old. I thought I was going to die that night. But I didn’t. Once he'd worn himself out, he couldn't stand the sight of me. There wasn't much to see other than blood, bruises, and open wounds. He threw me to the gutter.

“No one tells me no.”

“I did before, didn’t I?”

The officer fires a shock bullet at me. I fall to the floor. My mind is jumbled. Ringing clouds my hearing. I’m taken away to a back room. I can’t believe this is happening. My body is paralyzed from the shock bullet. The man is shutting the door. Now he’s taking his clothes off. I can’t feel my limbs. I cry to get them to move, to run, to fight. I can’t do anything but lay there.

                

                The door flies open. Ethan is there, shouting. I can’t hear what he’s saying. Officers push into the room and tackle the naked man. Ethan runs to my side. He’s saying something, but all I can do is stare. I’ve never seen him look the way he does now. He turns to the officer bowing beside him. An officer bowing to Ethan.

                

                “The medics are out front.”

                

                My hearing comes back. The words are muffled, but I can finally hear what’s going on.

                

                “What good are they doing outside?” Ethan growls. “Send them in now!”

                

               “Ethan,” I try to speak. My throat is dry. It’s barely a whisper. I try again. “Ethan.”

                

                He turns to me. “Cass!” He grabs my hand and sits next to me on the bed.
                

                “Ethan, what’s going on?”

                

                “I’m getting you out of here.”

                

                “But how? Where is the money to pay for the officers? What about…”

                

                “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you. You promised to marry me, remember? This is what husbands do. They take care of their wives.”

                

                 Feeling is coming back to my limbs. I curl my fingers around his hand. Before I can find out more, medics enter the room. He steps aside for them to reach me. The chief of police is in the room now and he’s approaching Ethan. The probing of the medics doesn’t hinder my hearing.

                

                “Your father hasn’t heard from you in years. Why now?” The chief’s moustache bristles with his words.

                

                 “I was fine on my own. Money doesn’t buy everything.” Ethan’s voice is hushed. He doesn’t want me to hear him. Of course he doesn’t want me to hear. He’s lied to me. His father isn’t dead. And Ethan isn’t really poor. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, but strain to hear every last word.

                

                 “So you wanted this prostitute for yourself and you didn’t have the money for her? Someone outbid you?”

                

                 The sound of a fist connecting with bone resonates through the room. Even the medics pause in anticipation. “Don’t you ever call her a prostitute. She is my fiancé. There was a misunderstanding here today. If my father doesn’t want to see me, that’s fine. I’ll take her and we’ll leave.”

                

               I can’t find anything on the ceiling more interesting than the exchange taking place in the room. My eyes find Ethan. He stares at the chief who holds his hand against his eye. I’ve never seen Ethan so full of fire or confidence. Normally, he cowers under authority. Now he is the authority.

                

                 “My apologies, sir. I didn’t mean anything by it. Your father wants to see you. A car is waiting out front.”

                

                 Ethan stands straight. He looks at me. I'm staring at someone I've never seen before. Even his eyes have changed. They are still the startling green they’ve always been, but now they control the room and everything they touch. “Are you okay?”

                

                 Shoving medics hands out of the way, I sit up. “Yes. Since I’m going to be joining the family, let’s go meet your father.” He pulls me to my feet and warps his arm around me for support. Under my breath, I add, "Because apparently your father is alive and your not really poor."

How It Appears

I’m staring at a white ceiling with dim lights humming around me. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I don’t know where here is.

“She’s awake.”

I turn to the sound. A man in scrubs is in the room with me.

“What’s going on?” I know I spoke the words, but they don’t sound like me. My voice is richer, stronger than it has ever sounded.

A woman in a pencil skirt clicks into the room. Behind her, a man in a tailored suit that cost more than I make in two years closes the door.

I shrink into the covers of the soft bed.

“How do you feel?” the man asks, lifting my eyebrows while shining a pen light into my eyes.

I jerk away. There’s a lot I want to say, but I don’t like the voice I hear when I speak.

The woman smiles and comes to the other side of my bed. “Considering what you looked like when we got you, we’ve done an excellent job putting you back together.”

The man steps back. “I’m Doctor Williamson. And this is Doctor Howe.” The woman nods. “What do you remember about the accident?”

“What accident?” There’s that voice again. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.

Dr. Howe turns on the tv. A news reporter speaks and the screen flashes to a security camera on a busy street. A beautiful woman, a woman everyone in the country knows, starts into the crosswalk. A van speeds next to her, throws open the door, and pulls her inside without stopping.

“Rachel Evans, the daughter of the media tycoon Doug Evans, was kidnapped in plain sight.” The reporter keeps talking in the background. The video footage continues. A police car, siren blaring, blazes by the camera not five seconds after the van passed.

Dr. Howe turns it off. “The police caught up to the van a block away. The kidnappers drove into the MediaState building. The explosion was huge. You were the only one to survive. If we didn’t have video footage of who was kidnapped, we may never have known who you were or what you were supposed to look like.”

“That wasn’t me.” I try to ignore the voice that comes out of my mouth.

They ignore it too. 

“That wasn’t me in the van. I’m not Rachel Evans.”

Now they look at each other. “If you’re not Rachel Evans, then who are you?” Dr. Williamson speaks to me like he would to a child caught in a lie.

“I’m Bridgette Torry.” Saying my name with this new voice makes me feel like I’m lying to myself.

The man in scrubs who hasn’t introduced himself starts typing on a computer.

“Who’s Bridgette Torry?” Dr. Williamson asks.

“I’m from the Pine region. I work at the lum…”

“Bridgette Torry. Married to Zane Torry. Two kids.” The man reads from the computer screen. “Worked at a lumber yard in the Pine region. Killed in an accident at the yard.”

“Killed?” I put my unfamiliar hand on my chest. “I’m not dead. I’m right here. I was at work and a rope snapped. The load it carried dropped to the floor of the yard. No one was hurt.”

They all look at me, expecting me to say something else. “I’m not dead and I’m not Rachel Evans. I don’t live in the city. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I’m not the person you say I am.”

I look down at the metal tray of food sitting in front of me. Nothing about my face is familiar. My eyes are wider apart, bigger. My lips are fuller. My nose is smaller and turns up more. I look at my chest. Those have definitely never been there. 

I only notice the doctors have left when the door shuts behind them. I hear a lock switch into place. They think I’m crazy. Am I?

I know I’m not Rachel Evans. Everyone knows who Rachel Evans is. She’s who every woman dreams of being. Her life is glamorous. I would know if I was Rachel Evans. I wouldn’t remember the brush of the fresh cut wood on my calloused hands. I wouldn’t remember the back breaking labor I’ve been doing since I was twelve years old. I wouldn’t remember the hunger, the desperation of poverty.

I also wouldn’t have the memories of love that make me feel like I’m going to burst when Zane’s face comes to my mind. I wouldn’t remember the overwhelming joy of my kids, the way their little hands wrap around my fingers, the way their arms curl around my neck. No, I’m not crazy. I’m Bridgette Torry.

Throwing the covers off my unfamiliar legs, I run to the small window at the door. The doctors are talking with a man even more famous than his daughter, Doug Evans. At least they’re not looking at me.

I back up and hurry to the windows on the opposite side of the room. The view is dizzying. My head spins for a moment. I shake it and try to get my bearings. The latch on the window slides open when I test it. I climb onto the ledge and lower my body onto the balcony below mine. I don’t know what floor I’m on. I only know that I want to get to the bottom and there’s only one way to go: down. It takes a few floors to get accustomed to the motions my new body makes. With different limbs, my coordination isn’t what it used to be. I don’t bother looking in the windows I pass. If someone sees me, what does it matter? This may be my only chance to get away from this madhouse and back home.

My feet drop to the cold pavement and I break into a sprint. I’m in the city, but on the outskirts. The Pine is only a short distance away. I run faster, anxious to see my family, anxious to find out how I ended up in that hospital, how my obituary was in the system. I’m a block from my house and I’m breathing wildly. Then, I’m on my doorstep. A black ribbon is woven through the wooden banister surrounding the porch. The glass window reflects an image I’ve only seen in magazines. I really do look like Rachel Evans. What if I can’t convince my family I’m Bridgette? What if they only see my image, hear my voice, and start the rumor that Rachel Evans is crazy? What will I have left to live for? My family is everything to me. My job was inconsequential. It was only there to pay the bills. But Zane and all that we’ve created together, that’s my life.

I knock because I don’t feel right barging in on them looking the way I do. It’s late so I know everyone is home. A chair screeches and I see Zane’s silhouette through the window. His hair droops over his eyes. The door opens slowly. Dark circles underneath his brown eyes make them black. His shoulders are stooped and a black armband is tight on his loose sleeve.

“Zane,” I breathe. I lean toward him, raising my arms around his neck.

He backs away quickly, lowering his head in a bow. “Miss Evans.”

“Zane, it’s me, Bridgette.”

Submission disappears from his face. His eyebrows tighten. “What did you say?”

“I’m Bridgette. I’m your wife. I woke up in a hospital and everything about me was changed. The doctors made me look like Rachel Evans, but I’m not her. I’m your wife.”

He steps further back.

I wring my hands. He doesn’t want me to touch him and what I’m telling him is upsetting. “I can prove it to you. Remember when Taylor was born? Remember the words you said to me? You told me…”

“Stop.” The look in his eye ties my tongue. “Look outside. Don’t you see the black ribbon? Are you so crazy that you don’t know what that means? My wife is dead. You’re not her. Go back to the hospital you ran away from. Leave me and my family alone.”

My heart starts to disintegrate. What can I say that will convince him? All he hears is this voice. It’s so different from the voice he used to listen to in the dark when we talked for hours in the quiet of the night. What can I do to show him I’m Bridgette? All he sees is another woman, a woman he shares nothing with. None of my features are the same. My body is different. All of my distinguishing features have been taken away. I am nothing to him.

I can see I’ve hurt him. He thinks I’m dead. Am I? “I’m sorry to bother you. I made a mistake.” 

I turn and leave the porch. I don’t have any purpose now. I walk without a sense of direction. My mind swims with panic. What am I going to do now? An emptiness permeates my chest. There is nothing to fill it. Everything I’ve worked for, my marriage, my kids, my life with Zane, is gone. Other than scrape together enough money to have my features changed back to what they were, to have my voice returned to what it was, there’s no way I can convince my family that I belong. If I worked my entire life, I would never come up with that kind of money.

A car screeches to a halt next to me.

“Rachel, honey…” It’s Doug Evans. “It’s freezing out here. Come get in the car.”

A plan beings to form in the void left by Zane’s rejection.

Mr. Evans is out in the cold now. Snow swirls around us as he wraps a heavy coat around me. I let him help me into the back seat. He sits beside me, his arm around my shoulder rubbing warmth into my body. It doesn’t help. He tells the driver to take us home. I don’t know where that is. My home recedes behind us as we drive away from the Pines and into the city.

“Dad?” I whisper.

A smile of relief fills his features. I’ve never seen the man show any emotion in front of the cameras that broadcast his life across the tv. It doesn’t soften the lines on his face. “Everything will be all right, Rachel.”

What is worse? Acting like his daughter in order to get money for a surgery that will return me to myself, to Bridgette Torry? Or suspecting him of turning me into his daughter in the first place? How did he know I would be at the Torry home? How did he know I would run to that neighborhood?

The car pulls into a gated driveway that opens as we approach. An ambulance is parked in the rounded courtyard. Drs. Howe and Williamson step out as our engine dies. “I’m sorry sir. We wouldn’t have woken her if we suspected. Like I explained at the hospital, sometimes a donor’s memories will transfer with the organs. It’s a rare phenomenon, but not impossible.” Dr. Williamson steps aside.

Donor? Who donated what to whom? Did I really die in the accident at the plant? Were my organs donated to Rachel Evans body? Whose brain am I using?

Dr. Howe has a syringe in her hand. “This should erase her confusion.”

The needle is in my neck before she finishes her sentence.