An index finger darted forward and wildly pierced the air beneath her nose.
“Tell me one reason why I should not kill you right away.” The boss was angrily spitting his words rather than speaking them.
Angeline didn’t think rationally, but she thought fast enough: “I might be pregnant. I mean I had sex with him… it… twice. I was forced to. I might be pregnant.”
The boss’ answer was looking up and across her to probably check with his figurative gorilla. Angie didn’t dare to turn around and look up at the man’s face to see what his responsive expression was. She could only assume the boss was asking if they had found the sample Hank and Roger had been ordered to take. Just as she could only guess the answer, which was – hopefully – negative.
It was only after greasy Greek god stared at her, Angie knew she wouldn’t die. He had a set of dark brown eyes which were so flat in comparison with Maelstrom’s pitch black pools, they looked like dull marbles. At least Angie wouldn’t die right away, maybe not even today.
“Put her in one of the crates,” the boss ordered after deciding what to do with her; he looked up at the huge man behind her and beat him to the draw of talking first. “Just empty one of them. Put her inside there. Without clothes. Just one blanket. Now move.”
Angeline was still processing what the boss had just said when his giant of a goon grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her out of the bridge room. Her feet barely touched the floor, as she was carried away.
This was Murphy’s law at its best.
The only reason greasy Greek god had caught her probably was that she let the yacht turn around, and she navigated it right back into their arms.
Most certainly the man had someone tracking the boat with radar or GPS, informing him of suspicious changes in its course. Of course, he would. Maelstrom must have been invaluable to him. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had a satellite watching this yacht.
Why the hell hadn’t she thought about that?
Why the hell had she been so stupid and not chosen a different harbor?
Why had she fallen asleep?
Most importantly: why had Maelstrom left her?
Angeline fought back the tears as she barely noticed how the new crew member opened the cover of one of the crates, placed it aside and lifted the crate to dump its contains into the ocean.
She was scolding herself for being so childish, while someone undressed her and tossed the pieces of clothing over the rail, too. No one cared about her being naked or freezing; she wrapped her arms around herself, rather than covering her more intimate body parts.
Angie knew why the merman had left and it wasn’t because of her. And that was all that mattered. He was safe. Maelstrom was back home with his family. He wouldn’t be treated like some animal and exposed to the world or worse. And she? Angeline was just a human. Her being pregnant by a male siren was pure nonsense and biologically impossible. A deer couldn’t bear a wolf’s child.
When the giant of a man lifted her up, bare naked, Angie didn’t struggle, she just let him place her in the crate, being grateful there was already something soft on the ground of it. A scratchy blanket was tossed on top of her and after that followed the crate’s cover, forcing her to kneel down.
Angie wrapped the uncomfortable fabric around her trembling body and brought herself into a sitting position. She was the animal now, caged in a three-times-six-foot wooden crate which wasn’t entirely airtight. It left enough room between the planks for her to look through the gaps and breathe, but it also didn’t shelter her from the fresh air of the ocean.
However, Angeline knew she was safer inside this crate than being somewhere else on this yacht. It also meant greasy boss believed what she had said to the letter.
Maybe it was him hoping he still had something to sell in his hands.
Angie would be able to play this game even longer than her first pregnancy test. She knew how to talk her way out of situations.
For the first time in her life, she was grateful for having had such a horrible mother. It had taught her just that.
Angeline tried to make herself forget about cold air coming from the ocean, which made her presume they were still going north. Which meant Canada, probably, or Alaska. Maybe they were even going further to Asia.
Although she did her best to distract herself from her current situation and the cold, Angie’s stomach started churning, and her teeth began to chatter. The last thing she had eaten was the steak, and with only one blanket no one could expect her to stay warm.
Angeline didn’t know who felt sympathy for her; when they tossed another blanket and a pillow inside her crate. The fact was, she didn’t feel grateful the second she heard them hammering down the cover of the crate. Although Angie promised herself not to waste any thought on this, she couldn’t help but wonder why they had done that. To keep the men away from her or to protect themselves from her? To not waste one man on guarding her?
Eventually, Angie decided to try and get some sleep and she coiled up in the blankets. She only then noticed the odor inside her little prison cell: it smelled of dead fish. Why hadn’t she noticed this before?
All she had smelled before was the clean ocean air.
Again, Angeline’s stomach churned, and she couldn’t help but think of that deliciously bloody steak she had eaten for her last meal. The only similar taste she could recall at that moment was the sensation when Maelstrom kissed her after killing Hank. The sheer memory of that moment made her shiver and lick her lips. Angie blamed it on the male siren and what she felt for him rather than the taste.
But there was something about the taste of blood. The taste of human blood. It had something sweet and alluring to it, almost like chocolate and yet it was so much more primitive, like a soft piece of meat.
Angeline sat up straight almost hitting her head at the crate cover. Her breathing was quick and shallow, almost as if she had woken up from a bad dream. She knew right away; something was not right, and she was in big trouble. The scent of her surroundings had changed; the lighting, too, even the temperature.
She clawed into the wooden planks surrounding her and she attempted to look through the gaps to see what was happening on the outside. They were smaller now, the gaps between the single planks were straight now, unlike before, if she was in a different crate than before. Angeline’s heart started hammering wildly. Her head started aching. She was thirsty, and her neck was sore as if she had been lying in an uncomfortable position for a very long time.
She started stretching her aching limbs and did her best to not freak out about the different situation. If she was honest with herself, if she had been him – the wannabe Greek god – she would have drugged her too, to have no more trouble. And everything she perceived right now, pointed to that explanation. The only question was: for how long had she been out?
Angeline closed her eyes and breathed in, deeply.
If Angie had known a way to scroll through her memories as if it was her browsing history, she would. Right now, however, she tried to evoke every single image embedded in her mind she wasn’t familiar with, and there were a bunch of them: small glimpses of actions, movements right before the sensation of being submersed into an ocean of no temperature and no water, if such a thing existed.
If Angeline hadn’t known better, she would have brushed off these images as fragments of dreams long forgotten, but now, finding herself in a different crate, at a different place, she had to believe that those were fragments of memories that hadn’t been removed by the drugs administered to her.
One question remained: for how long?
Hours? Days? Weeks? Even… months?
Maybe it was a thoughtless action, or maybe it was more than that: instinct or since she subconsciously knew the answer.
Yet, she wasn’t prepared for the truth. Partially, Angie had hoped it only would have been a day or two, but not longer.
More and more fragments which could have been nothing more than just d
reams flashed in front of her eyes, reminding her of science fiction movies showing how someone was being brainwashed. Maybe they tried doing that to her. It didn’t matter.
Angeline looked down at her hand that was resting on her stomach, which wasn’t flat but showed a little bulge which hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t much but enough for her to realize the truth. This kind of belly wasn’t because they had force-fed her.
She was really pregnant.
But there was one more thing. Something Angie could easily see despite the dim light inside the crate: her fingernails were longer than before, which wasn’t a big surprise if she truly had been out for weeks if not months. But fingernails didn’t grow that fast, and they definitely wouldn’t grow in a way that they looked like claws.
Cautiously, she pressed one pointy nail against the inside of her thumb. It pinched enough for her to not use more force. They were damn sharp, too.
“What the hell?” Angeline croaked.
Her throat felt strangely sore, but probably it was because she hadn’t spoken in a while.
The crate Angie was in suddenly started to shake wildly. She could sense that it was being lifted up and moved. Since she hadn’t heard any machines, Angie could only assume she was moved by man-power. For a moment she was afraid the sudden movement would make her feel sick, but it didn’t. She dug her claws into the sides of the crate and allowed her legs and hips to move while she steadied her torso.
“Put her down there,” a not so familiar male voice ordered; it was him, the wannabe Greek god.
Angie instantly felt rage rumbling in her stomach, and the incredible need to hiss, or screech, or scream at him. If her voice was just as potent as a siren’s, she’d definitely know what to do right now. However, at the moment she was a caged animal, furious about the audacity of her captors.
Angeline didn’t mind feeling like a rabid beast. She wouldn’t mind ripping pieces of flesh out of their bodies with her teeth. For a second Angie gave in to the urge to run her tongue across her teeth just to check if she also had grown fangs.
“Be careful, we can’t use the rod on her,” another man said, drawing her attention to him, as well as the information he was sharing. “Let’s just hope she’s still asleep. We must be careful with the tranquilizer, too, the doc said.”
“She isn’t that far along,” pseudo-Greek god said. “Drugs are usually only damaging in the third trimester.”
Now, he definitely needed to die, because that was wrong Angie’s mind was working wildly.
How come he said such things?
He probably was trafficking girls, making them docile by administering drugs to them. Just as he now was doing to her.
Oh, how wonderful it would be to rip him to shreds with her bare hands.
“Sir, you don’t want to risk the pup?”
Whoever that was, he gained some bonus points with Angeline. She just wasn’t sure if that was enough for her to spare his life.
The boss didn’t answer, but Angie figured he did not respond as an answer. For whatever reason, she prepared herself to attack anyone who opened that crate or dared to approach her. Yet, she had the feeling those goons would still be prepared; and they were.
Suddenly, something absolutely delicious-smelling reached her nose. Instantly, her mouth watered, and her stomach churned, demanding to be filled with whatever it was, she could smell.
Angie remembered this specific aroma. It was the same smell of rare meat that her last meal had. Or rather: the last meal she had eaten.
“Angeline, you’ll get the food,” the same guy, who had spoken before, addressed her now. “If you follow the rules.” Maybe he was some sort of expert on wild animals, but she doubted that; he had to have another profession – it wasn’t really important. “If you don’t cooperate you’ll stay in there without food or water until we need to show you on display. Then the forklift will do the job.”
The way he spoke so cautiously, he already must have had a bad experience with her behavior, one she didn’t remember.
“I want clothes,” she demanded, and her teeth started to clatter as if they agreed with her.
“No.”
Before the sound of that word had stopped, Angie already had hit the side of her crate with her fist. She was sure the craking noise she had heard was not her knuckles but the wood.
“We don’t want to drug you again,” Mr. Nice-Guy argued. “It might hurt your pup.”
“I am not an animal,” Angeline snapped, while her mouth watered from the scent of meat.
“Then don’t act like one.” It was the boss again.
“Then don’t treat me like one.”
11 – Tempest
Angeline’s wish had been satisfied. They had given her a dress which looked somewhat like a nightgown or rather a beach coverup you’d put on over a bikini, so you’d be covered a little more.
In the end, it wasn’t much for her to cover herself up with, but at least she didn’t feel like an animal anymore – on the outside.
She had gotten the food too, after she had climbed out of the crate and went where they had wanted her to go. The tank they had put Maelstrom in. Now it had a second level installed, build from several planks. It was positioned high enough for her to stay dry but put her feet into the water if she wanted to.
Angie had eaten the three almost rare steaks with her bare hands.
Basically, so she mused, since they didn’t dare to give her anything she could turn into a weapon. She could only imagine what she had done in the half-drugged stated they put her in for the past several weeks. After that, Angie had instantly fallen asleep. Maybe, she joked to herself after waking up again, they would use meat instead of a tranquilizer the next time.
Angeline didn’t know why she felt so certain the tank was the same as they had held Maelstrom in. She simply knew it was the one. Almost as if she could still smell him, which she couldn’t, of course. Or, could she?
Although they had covered the tank with the same tarp as before, Angie was watching them with a burning stare, daring them to come closer. Of course, she didn’t have the strength in her legs to jump out of the tank and slice them open, but they didn’t want to find out.
However, to Angeline, the tarpaulin didn’t make much difference. The air still smelt salty like the sea, albeit a bit polluted. There wasn’t any movement of the ground, so they had to be on land, maybe close to the shore. A lot of noise could be heard all around her after she had woken up. There were cars and people. So, perhaps this was where she would be sold to the highest bidder?
Angeline deliberated on how she should best present herself to these vile people. Maybe they did expect a woman that was acting more like an animal than a human being? Wouldn’t they want her to be feisty and furious? Wouldn’t that increase the price?
What if she acted like she had then, just before she had met Maelstrom? She would be scared and plead for her life as she had a few weeks ago.
Angie remembered trying to bargain with the boss. Greasy Greek god hadn’t really cared much about her parent’s money. Maybe because he didn’t know how rich they really were?
Why hadn’t he checked?
Maybe he had and he didn’t care?
If Angeline was honest with herself, involving her parents was simply too risky for him. He might get caught if he left any trail. Selling her to a client was safer and much better for his reputation.
The dress they had given her was teal-colored, tilting a bit to the green side. It built a stark contrast to her hair color and emphasized the color of her eyes. She knew, all in all, it made her look pretty, even beautiful.
Angeline had no idea what else might have changed in addition to her fingernails. Maybe her eyes were different now, too?
Was that even important?
She had to prepare for the fact that she was being sold to someone. Someone whose intentions she did not know. Maybe that nauseating excuse for a human being even was selling her and her baby to two d
ifferent people? It wouldn’t surprise her.
A cold shiver ran through her body.
Her baby.
She hadn’t really thought much about it, and yet she was placing one hand on her belly the entire time.
Angeline didn’t get the chance to follow that train of thought, because suddenly the noises from the outside increased.
For a split second, she imagined it to be outcries of panic and pain, but it was just her hopes and imagination.
No, they were gathering their ‘guests’ so they all would get a good view of her: the girl pregnant with a merman’s offspring.
Would they even believe this claim?
Then again who knew what or rather who he had already sold?
Angeline wanted to cover her ears so she wouldn’t have to listen to this sleazy snake announcing her, his newest object and the only reason for this auction. Angie could hear a murmur rolling through the crowd like a wave as they heard they wouldn’t get to see a grown merman, but his bride.
Bride, Angeline scoffed, silently.
But the next words the stinker boss uttered made her listen up and her heart miss a beat.
“… infected and transforming…”
Was he talking about her?
Angie stared at her pointed fingernails and tried to bend or break them. Instead, she cut herself, or so she thought. She pulled her hand away in reflex because she was certain she had cut her palm by accident, but when she looked at it, there was nothing; no cut, not even blood. Hinting to the fact she might have healed it already. Angeline wanted to believe they had prepared her fingernails to sell what he was claiming. Still, a part of her had already known it was true.
It had all started with her craving practically raw red meat and continued with her enjoying the taste of human blood on Maelstrom’s lips. How else could she be several weeks pregnant with a child her body was not made to bear; if not through transforming in a way to become better suited to carry the baby to term. Was this how mermen reproduced?
Ocean's Captive Page 11
