by Sky Winters
“What do I want? Well, you were there during the bidding; I think you can guess very easily what it is that I want.”
Nora grew cold at this statement.
“I knew there was something… fishy going on with you and Kieran. But I didn’t think he would be so stupid as to violate one of our most sacred laws over some piece of expensive human meat.”
“Let me go, now,” she said, demanding.
“And why would I want to do that?” he said. “Kieran forfeited his right to you when he sent you packing, and now I get what I was ready to bid so much money on, but for free! What’s not to like?”
Nora then heard a click from one of the panels, and saw a section of the wall move from its place and slide to the left. Marcus Ricci stepped into the room, wearing a green and black silk robe with gold trim, his face painted with a devilish sneer.
“Ah, it never grows old seeing you in person,” he said, moving toward her with slow, slinky steps.
When he reached Nora, he caressed her jaw with a slow drag of his fingers. Nora shivered at his touch, which felt like soft ice against her skin.
“No one knows you’re here, if you’re wondering. So, don’t bother anticipating a rescue, or any nonsense like that.”
“You better not even think of touching me again,” Nora said.
Marcus shook his head and made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound.
“Something about being tied up makes people make all sorts of pointless, empty threats. What, exactly, are you going to do to prevent me from doing whatever I want?”
His eyes then narrowed even further as he moved his gaze down to her exposed neck. “I assume that you know all about what our little auction is about? Feeding. Nothing more. I don’t know what sort of romantic notions our friend Kieran put in your head, but your kind is nothing but food to us. Right now, I’m looking at you the same way you might look at a nice juicy steak.”
He then placed his hand on the side of Nora’s hip, giving her a firm squeeze. “Well, maybe not exactly like that.”
He stepped away from her a bit, and looked Nora over, his eyes still hungry. “But I have talked enough. Let me give you a little taste of what I am talking about.”
With that, he flew toward Nora with the same inhuman speed that she had seen from Kieran. Marcus latched on to her neck, bit down into her flesh, and for several seconds, drew blood from her with greedy, full gulps.
When he was done, he pulled away, taking full breaths through a mouth dripping with blood, his skin an almost glowing color of white.
“Oh my,” he said, a giddy expression playing on his face, “I’m starting to get a bit of a sense of what the fuss is about.”
He stepped back, and looked Nora up and down. “It is going to be very hard not to drain you dry in one, long feed. And that might make things easier for you, to end it all just like that,” he said, snapping his fingers. “But I am a man of restraint, if nothing else. Well, class, style, sophistication, yes, yes, those things. But restraint, too. And I can make a delicacy like you go a long, long way. But for now, sleep.”
And with that, he waved his hand in front of her face, and she was plunged into that same deep abyss of sleep.
Chapter 16
She came to in the same chains that she had been bound in.
I have to find some way to get out of here, but how?
It seemed hopeless. Marcus had seemingly designed this room for storage, keeping it clear of any tools, or anything else that anyone could use to make an escape.
Kieran, she thought, concentrating, as though he could hear her, I’d do anything for you to be here now. Please, know that I’m here, know that I need your help. Don’t let me and your child die in this place.
She began to whimper, knowing that her efforts were useless. She was stuck, chained up, to be fed on by Marcus until he bored of her taste and decided to drain her down to the last drop. Then she would be disposed of, like she was supposed to be when Kieran first bid on her.
“Ah, she’s up!” came Marcus’s voice from the speakers.
Nora’s felt sick as she began to think about the cycle of sleep and feeding that she was going to be spending the remainder of her life in.
The door clicked, slid out of place, and Marcus entered, now dressed in a glossy black tuxedo accented with a red and yellow cravat tied in a lackadaisical fashion around his long, slim neck.
“I don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to get sick of coming in here and seeing you.”
The helplessness had already begun to set in, and Nora found herself wondering when Marcus was just going to end it. But it was sounding like that wasn’t going to happen for a long while.
“Just do it, you sick fucker,” said Nora, her voice worn and tinged with helplessness.
Marcus approached her with those same slinky steps, clucking his tongue as he walked, his black-and-white dress shoes clicking against the shiny, wooden floor.
“My darling bella,” he said, looking her up and down, his lasciviousness toward Nora having not diminished a trace, “I think the sooner you drop this little princess attitude, the better. No one knows you’re here, except for me... but not for long.”
His golden eyes flashed with mischief. “That is, until I let everyone know what your adoring Irishman did… or didn’t do.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Nora, through her teeth.
“I would and I will. But before that, you’ll be getting a grand sendoff. Which is tonight, lucky for you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Marcus stepped back, smiled, and spin in a circle on his heels. “You like it? I don’t get to dress up as often as I like, so when I do, I like to go, as they say, ‘all out.’”
He walked back up to Nora, looking at her neck with pinprick eyes. Nora winced in anticipation of a bite.
“Ah, but not now. Later, though… absolutely.”
He then stopped in place, as if remembering something. “How could I forget the whole reason I came down here so early!”
With that, he darted from the room, returning a few minutes later with a beautiful red dress, holding it with delicate fingertips.
“You like? It’s Chanel. I took the liberty of taking your measurements while you were out; it should be a perfect fit,” he said, hanging the dress on one of the wall’s chain hooks.
“Now, I am going to unhook you. Do not try any funny business; I’m ten times as strong as you, and I’ve had this room looked over to make sure there’s nothing anyone could use to get the drop on me. And believe me, you’re not the first little snack that I’ve kept in here.”
Reaching behind Nora, he undid he chains. When he took off the last one, Nora collapsed onto the floor in a heap.
“So, take the dress and go to the bathroom down the hall and make yourself presentable,” Marcus said, starting for the door. “Be ready in no more than an hour. You’re the guest of honor tonight,” he said, slipping out of the door and leaving it open.
Nora heard another, heavier, door opening in the hallway, then closing with a heavy clank followed by the sound of a latch fastening into place.
Pressing her palms against the cool floor, Nora raised herself to her feet. As soon as she stood, she reached to her ear with a frantic hand and dialed down her hearing aid. Looking at her belly, that same colorful emanation was visible. She sighed with relief, knowing that her baby still lived, despite her trauma.
She cast an eye at the dress on the wall. It was beautiful, but Nora was hardly in the mood to play dress-up. Looking around the room, she saw that Marcus was right about there being nothing here to help her escape; it was bare walls aside from the chains. Even the lights were recessed into the ceiling.
With nothing else to do, she took the dress from the hook, draping the soft, fine fabric over her arm and leaving the room that she had been trapped in for however long.
The room led to a small hallway, with a heavy metal door on one end, and another room down the
other end, the door opened a crack, spilling white lighting into the otherwise dark space. Nora approached the room and pushed open the door, revealing a simple, unadorned bathroom lit with hollow, thin light.
She hung the dress up on a small rack in the corner, and when she approached the sink, saw that there was a small note folded in half and propped up.
Makeup is in the drawer, and some perfume, and some unmentionables. Pretty yourself up like you mean it, because you won’t like what happens if you don’t!
The note was signed with an ‘M’ written in ostentatious and ornate style.
Nora stripped down and jumped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the disgust from the events that she had been subjected to. After some time had passed, she turned off the water, got out and dried off. Pulling open the drawer, she saw that inside was a simple selection of makeup, a small bottle of perfume, and a lacy underwear set.
Not exactly in the mood, but not like I have any other options.
After putting on the underwear, she removed the dress from its place and dropped it over her body, the delicate fabric feeling heavenly and plush against her clean skin. Turning around to zip up the back, she couldn’t help but admire how it looked.
He’s a pretty tacky fucker, but I gotta give it to him on this one. He must’ve had someone else pick it out.
She spent a little time putting on the makeup, but found that no matter how subtle she tried to be with it, the deep red of the lipstick and deep blue of the eye shadow couldn’t help but make her look more like a prostitute than she wanted. Putting up her hair in a simple braid, she noticed a pair of coal-black stiletto pumps sitting near the door.
These were definitely a Marcus pick. She shook her head.
Otherwise all dressed, she stepped into the shoes, then out into the hallway. Through the floor, she could hear the creaking of many feet walking above her, as well as the gentle strains of a classical music quartet. Some kind of gathering was going on upstairs, and Nora figured that it’s where she was expected.
She approached the massive, metal door and raised her hand, preparing to knock, when a beep emitted and the door opened with a thunk. She stepped forward, unsure of what to expect beyond.
Chapter 17
A stairway was revealed, going straight up and leading to a visible square of the floor above, filled with warm light and groups of men in elegant suits holding drinks and chatting. But once they noticed Nora, their attention was shifted, and they began gesturing toward her as she approached and talking in lively tones.
She walked up the steps, a crowd of men now gathered around the entry. Then Marcus slid into view, and began beckoning her with lively scoops of his hands. “Come, child; we’re all waiting for you!” he said, his face bright with anticipation.
Nora made the last few steps with trepidation, her heels clicking against the wood. When she finally stepped into the expanse of the apartment, her eyes squinted in the bright light, and she felt overwhelmed by the dozens of men around her. Marcus extended his hand, and, out of polite instinct, Nora took it. Marcus responded by wrapping his cool, spindly fingers around the meat of her hand, and a wave of something like nausea rushed through her.
Nora came to her senses, and when she did, the first thing she noticed was how garish and over-the-top the styling of the apartment was, not to mention personal styles of the men gathered within. The room, like Kieran’s, was a wide-open space, but where Kieran’s place was a monument to minimalist class, Marcus’s apartment was more like Versailles if it were designed by interior decorators on Adderall. Gold abounded, along with mirrored walls and ornate molding and columns. Art of nude men and women was placed here and there, and portraits of foppish men in flamboyant clothing hung on the walls. The men, all with a cocktail glass or champagne flute in hand, were all in flashy, expensive-looking clothing, like Marcus, and their hair and beards were almost uniformly slicked and oiled. They looked at Nora with hungry eyes as she ascended the stairs.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, may I have your attention?” called out Marcus, flapping a hand at the string quartet, which resulted in their silence. “Our guest of the evening has arrived, and, ah, just look at her.”
Marcus extended a hand toward Nora, and the crowd erupted with ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs.’ Nora crossed her arms across her chest and lowered her head; she didn’t want a single bit of the attention that she was receiving.
“Oh, it appears our Irish lily is of the wilting sort,” he said, making an exaggerated frown. “That simply won’t do at all.”
He then snapped, and two men like those Nora saw at the auction house appeared from the crowd. They moved to her sides, and each of them grabbed an upper-arm with a firm, tight grasp.
“Into the honored guest’s chair with her,” Marcus said with another flick of his wrist.
A section of the crowd spread apart, revealing a massive, ornate throne set in front of a towering, roaring fireplace. The men dragged Nora toward it, shoving her down onto the plush seat. They each then removed scarves of red silk from their pockets and tied Nora’s arms and legs into the chair. Marcus then stepped forward, a scarf of gold and red in his hand and prepared to tie it around Nora’s mouth. But at the last moment, he hesitated.
“You know what? I am thinking your screams will provide a nice little counter-melody to our little quartet,” he said, stuffing the scarf back into his pocket.
He then turned to the crowd. “Gentlemen! Our buffet is nearly ready. But, I am trying to remember who had the special privilege of first feeding.” Marcus’s eyes searched the crowd.
“It was I, young man,” called out a deep, firm voice.
“Ah, Signore Moretti,” said Marcus to the white-haired, suited man who appeared, in human years, to be around sixty-five. “What an honor to have you and the rest of the elders here with us tonight.”
He swept his hand in toward Nora. “Then let the feast begin!” Marcus said, gesturing toward the quartet, who leaped into frenzied song.
Moretti moved toward Nora, who was now gripped with fear. His eyes burned with animal intensity, and his mouth, now wide open, two fangs springing from the top row of teeth, his fingers waggling at the ends of his outstretched arms. Nora winced her eyes shut as he grew closer, as she began to feel his hot breath against her neck. She prepared for the bite that was to come.
Then a loud crash sounded through the apartment.
Nora looked up, and saw that one of the massive, glass windows of the apartment had been shattered, and in the open space was Kieran, hovering in midair, the evening wind blowing his hair around his face, and the sliver of moon like a blade in the night sky behind him. Even from where Nora sat, she could see the expression of fury on his face, as though he were wreathed in fire.
The crowd burst into gasps and the quartet ceased their playing.
“Let her go. Now,” Kieran called out, his voice booming through the expanse of the apartment.
“Kieran!” said Marcus, walking toward him. “Welcome to my little partito! I must say, I was not expecting you, nor was I expecting anyone to arrive using a manner of entry other than the door, but I suppose you are welcome nonetheless.”
Kieran swooped down and landed, the crowd spreading outward and away from him as he descended.
“Marcus! Who the hell is this man?” called out Mr. Moretti.
“No one,” he said, not appearing to be flustered, “just some Hell’s Kitchen trash.”
“Kieran,” Marcus said, yelling up to him, “come down from there and let’s have a little chat, no?”
Nora watched Kieran as he continued scanning the crowd. But before he could respond to Marcus’s request, Mr. Moretti spun back around to Nora, his face twisted with animal hunger. His mouth wide-open and fangs glistening like ivory-white blade points, he threw back his head to feast on Nora.
At least, he tried.
All Nora saw was a blur from where Kieran flew, appearing next to Mr. Moretti with incredible speed, gr
abbing his arm by the wrist and yanking the hand off with a twist followed by a sickening rip. Mr. Moretti’s face was still painted with hunger when he realized what had happened, but once he noticed that his hand was missing, his hunger was replaced by horror. He looked at the space where his hand once was, a look of shock on his face for a beat, then let out a low scream while clenching his wrist with the hand that remained.
Marcus dashed in and looked over the scene with wide eyes. “Kieran! What the hell have you done? Do you know who this man is?”
Kieran ignored both Marcus and the man he had just maimed, and moved in closer to Nora.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone deep and concerned.
“How… how did you know I was here?” she asked as he ripped apart the scarves that restrained her to the chair.
“I… don’t know. I heard you call out to me, in my mind. And I just knew, somehow, that I’d find you here,” he said, helping Nora to her feet.
“Kieran! You insane man!” shouted Marcus as two of the guards took Mr. Moretti from the room. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done here tonight!”
“Step aside, let us leave, and no one else has to get hurt,” said Kieran, with Nora leaning on him for support.
Marcus responded with a hysterical, wild-eyed cackle, the men of the party standing behind him, shocked, waiting for whatever was to happen next.
“You think you can just break into my home, steal my property, assault one of our society’s elders, and then just leave? No, my friend, you are not going to be doing anything like leaving tonight.”
With that, he flicked his hand toward Kieran, and two of the suited men rushed toward them.
Kieran pushed Nora behind him, back into the chair, and readied himself for the guards. One attempted to grab his arms, while the other pulled a slim, silver stiletto-shaped blade from the inside of his coat pocket.
What is that? Nora’s thoughts were rushed and frantic as she watched the man lunge toward Kieran’s chest with the blade.
Kieran shook off the first guard and stepped to the side in a deft motion. The guard with the blade continued his thrust, but instead of stabbing Kieran, the blade penetrated the chest of the other guard. The guard only reacted for a moment, looking at the protruding blade with an expression of surprise before his entire body exploded into coal-black ash.
