by Logan Fox
“Come on. You gave it a good bash, right? Tomorrow’s another day.”
Tina’s hand slid under her arms. Pearl pushed up, coming to her feet in a sudden swoon. She stared at Tina, her face incapable of expression. Tina’s, on the other hand, slid into something approaching fear.
“What happened?” Tina glanced toward the firs as if expecting to see a horde of ambling zombies break cover.
“Nothing,” Pearl croaked.
Her neck was too loose — her head lolled back and to the side. She gave Tina a smile, realized it was lopsided and probably scary as hell, and smoothed her face again.
“Just… help me inside, would you?” Pearl staggered forward, and Tina caught her elbow, steadying her. She shook her head, glaring up at the Fox Pit with sullen resignation.
“I’m done fighting this fucking place,” she whispered.
Pearl started when the door to her bedroom swung open. She curled tighter in on herself, squeezing her eyes shut. There were no footsteps: the thick carpets in the den made sure of that. But she knew who would be grabbing hold of her shoulder, turning her over, staring down at her with those void-like, reprimanding eyes.
“Miss Buchanan?”
She flinched and spun around, scrambling into a sitting position and tugging the sheets up around her neck. She hadn’t bothered to shower last night — she still wore her sweats and shoes under the sheets.
Caden stood in the doorway, the fingers on one slim hand pressed to the door frame.
“Would you be so kind as to dress and meet me upstairs? You have fifteen minutes.”
She was still staring at him when he turned and left, pulling the door silently closed behind him.
Pearl cast a quick, questioning look toward Gia, but the other half of her room was empty, the bed unmade and everything else in its usual state of disarray.
She pulled herself out of bed, grimacing when she saw the grass stains on her sheets. Her sneakers were grubby from their early-morning excursion, her sweats dirty and chafed at the knees. Yanking the duvet over the sheets, Pearl went to her closet and retrieved a dress and clean underwear.
Outside, the den was deserted. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, but the pot was empty, and a pair of cups stood on the drying rack.
After showering, shampooing, and trying to avoid eye contact with herself in the mirror as she combed out her wet hair, Pearl tossed her dirty clothes in the laundry hamper and went to put her shoes away in her bedroom closet. After a moment’s hesitation, she hid the grubby sneakers in the far left corner, covering them up with one of the thick, russet quilts stored in the bottom of the closet.
Caden waited by the cherry tree for her. Her chest contracted at the sight of him, arms idly folded over his chest, staring at the stained glass door. Her own gaze swept past him, giving the floor a hurried scan. There were no footprints, no grass stains. For all she knew, she could have imagined her trip outside last night. But that didn’t explain the scratches on the heels of her hand, those that had stung so ferociously under the shower’s hot water. It also didn’t explain the missing keycard — she’d checked both shoes to make sure.
“Good morning,” Caden said, with a slight nod in her direction. He ran a slow, interrogatory gaze over her and then beckoned her with a small flick of his fingertips. “Please, follow me.”
He turned and walked away, arms dangling at his side. His long-sleeved shirt was a dark grey today, the fabric thicker than usual. Instead of the usual loafers, he wore boots. Probably due to the chill in the air; Pearl hugged herself as she followed a few feet behind the man.
“A scene?” Pearl asked, as the man slowed. They were almost at the dungeon’s door and a few feet away from its bathroom. But he didn’t have that velvet bag in his hand.
Caden shook his head. “Follow me.”
He pushed open the dungeon’s door. After a pause to draw a steadying breath, Pearl followed.
Instead of leading her all the way down the twisting ramp that led to the dungeon’s double doors, Caden stopped about halfway down the slope. There, she could see a barely distinguishable rectangle. It was so cleverly disguised between the rows of dark bricks that she kept losing sight of it.
Caden drew out his keycard from a back pocket, held it against a small square of black glass beside the doorway, and pushed open the door. Bright fluorescent lights flooded the section of hallway they stood in, making Pearl lift a hand to shield her eyes. Caden twisted his shoulders, sidling into the narrow opening as if loathe to let his clothes brush against the exposed brick.
Pearl followed, glancing from side to side and wondering where the hell Caden was taking her.
Perhaps this was where the girls went before they ended up dead.
Her legs faltered. She came to a stop in the middle of the narrow passage, her arms squeezing tight around her.
Caden glanced over his shoulder, saw that she’d stopped, and turned back to her.
“Close it behind you,” he said, flicking an impatient hand to the door behind her.
“Where are you taking me?” Pearl quavered.
Caden cocked his head to the side, lips parting. “Disney Land,” he snapped, striding back toward her.
Pearl stiffened, flattening herself against the rough bricks as the man tore past her. He grabbed the inside of the door — plain wood on this side — and tugged it closed. His hair was too shiny, his face too pale, under the harsh fluorescents. He threw her an irritated glance as he passed her and beckoned her again over his shoulder.
“Do hurry, Miss Buchanan. Donald’s not waiting around for us.”
She followed warily, ready to bolt at the first sign of anything nefarious. But, instead of the slaughterhouse cum torture chamber she’d expected, the narrow passage ended at a sleek door, its metal black and lackluster. Caden swiped his card again. The door slid into the wall, and a soft glow lit up ahead.
They climbed down three thickly-carpeted steps into a small auditorium. Six staggered chairs, a bar against one wall, and a wall of glass waited for them. Pearl turned to the glass, her arms falling to her waist as she leaned forward.
Morgan sat perched on the black altar, naked, ears poking up through her messy pixie cut and a bleach-blond tail swept over her hip and nestling between her legs.
She wore a sparkling, diamond-encrusted collar. It had a matching, equally garish, anklet.
“Sit.”
Pearl swung back to Caden. This was where they sat, when they watched her? Her gaze ran over the plush seats. It looked like a movie theater — one of those that rich people had in their multi-level homes.
Caden went to the bar and busied himself at the gleaming coffee machine.
“Espresso?”
Pearl’s legs gave in, depositing her in the closest chair.
“Just… coffee.” The chair closed over her like a lover eager to be reunited with her ass. Seconds later, she’d turned to face the glass, had her head against the headrest, and her arms draped over the armrests.
How did they manage to stay awake in these things?
Caden came over, handed her a steaming mug of coffee, and disappeared back to the bar. She rested the cup on the flat wooden console between the two front chairs and let her hand fall down again.
God this was comfortable.
“I expected you to be brimming with questions at this point,” Caden said quietly as he folded himself in the chair beside her.
Fuck it, she’d said she wasn’t fighting this anymore, and she wasn’t. She could last two weeks. It would be no skin off her nose. As long as she didn’t see that thing again, the thing that had driven her almost insane with terror, she could handle anything without blinking.
She summed up her mental litany with a vague wave in Caden’s direction.
He sipped at his espresso. She could see him from the corner of her eye, staring at her with a tilt of his head. Perhaps he could sense the change in her — that undead attitude she’d decided to adopt. Or perhaps
he just liked to poke at things until they moved out of the way or caved in.
“I insist on two employees to witness each scene. It ensures there’s no ‘he said, she said’. But we’re short staffed at the moment, understand?”
“Yup,” Pearl said. She brought her mug to her lips, her eyes meeting with Caden’s. Shrugging, she blew on the steaming surface of the coffee. “Seth busy?”
Something flashed over Caden’s eyes — too fast for her to decipher — before a small smile twitched the muscles on his face.
“AWOL, I’m afraid.”
Pearl forced herself not to freeze up. She brought the mug to her lips, burnt her mouth with the hot liquid, and hastily set the cup down again. Fanning her lips with a hand, she blinked away tears.
“Hot,” she managed.
Caden’s eyes hadn’t left hers. “According to Morgan, you were the last one to see him.”
Pearl managed a shrug, but whether it came across as devil-may-care or Satan-take-me-now, she couldn’t tell. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, wincing.
“Last night. He took me to the pool.”
Caden’s silence, more so than that penetrating blue-eyed gaze of his, drew more words from her.
“We… uh… you know.”
Whether Caden knew or not was a mystery, but Pearl forged ahead regardless.
“Then he took me back to the den. I got into bed. I slept.” She pointed at him. “Enter Caden.”
He lifted his chin, drained the rest of his espresso, and turned to face the dark glass. Morgan was toying with the tip of her tail, looking bored and sleepy. With her close-cropped hair, petite frame, and large breasts, she looked ludicrously top heavy. The girl pressed the tip of her tail to her mouth, stifling a wide yawn.
“What time was that?”
“No idea.” Pearl stuck out her arm, holding her naked wrist a few inches from Caden’s nose. “My watch is broken.”
Caden slapped away her hand, his jaw bunching. Pearl jerked at the unexpected contact, but when her eyes found Caden’s face, his expression was as calm and collected at always.
“And Gia?” Caden asked quietly.
“Gia what?” Pearl stared through the glass at Morgan. Whoever sat in this small auditorium had a really good view of the action out there. She squirmed, thinking of everything she’d done on that altar… everything she’d had done to her. How was she supposed to get up there again, knowing just how much they could see?
“She’s your roommate. Surely you know when she left?”
“Left?” Pearl murmured.
Were they real? She seemed to recall Morgan laughing about it, saying Caden wanted to feel them, to judge their authenticity. God, how did she find clothes to fit?
“What time did Gia leave, Miss Buchanan?”
She turned to him then, frowning. Her mind scurried unwillingly back to last night, picking through the haze of red-drenched memories she’d been so loathe to store.
Dripping canines. She hurriedly pushed away the thought.
The fountain. Exhausted sobbing.
Tina, helping her up.
Stumbling into the cherry tree.
Almost falling down the stairs.
Her bedroom door, partly open.
A moment’s pause, breathless anticipation, waiting for Gia to ask where she’d been, what she was doing up so late, why her hair was all mussed up.
But there’d been nothing. No interrogation. Just the cool, comforting embrace of her sheets, and sleep’s numbing intoxication.
“She wasn’t there when I came back.” The words toppled out of her mouth before she could arrange them properly.
“Came back from where?”
“The bathroom.” Pearl glanced away, back to Morgan. The girl was looking up, staring straight ahead, shoulders back and chin up. “He’s here,” she murmured.
“Was she in her room when you left?”
“Yes.”
“How long did Seth have you for?”
Her skin crawled at the phrase ‘have you for’; her mind served her a snapshot of the handler thrusting into her with his hand wrapped over her throat and his lips against her ear.
“Not sure,” she whispered, clearing her throat. “An hour. More, less.”
Her eyes were fixed straight ahead now.
A man had entered the dungeon. He wore a black jumpsuit, baggy around the waist in a poor attempt to disguise his bulging stomach. His wolf mask was little more than a scrap of fur over his eyes. It did nothing to hide his thick jowls, slack lips, or red-veined skin. Pearl burrowed into her chair, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth.
She couldn’t watch this. Where was the handsome, lean wolf she was used to? Those that, when they took their shirts off, you couldn’t wait to run your hands over their toned muscles?
“When was the last time you saw her?” Caden asked.
“A few hours earlier.”
When the girl had given her the keycard and kissed her. After Gia’d told her that Seth kidnapped girls, implying that he did something nefarious to them. Something he’d planned to do with her…
An icy torrent of fear washed over Pearl. Her lips parted as she sucked in a long, slow breath.
In front of her, Morgan was slowly getting to her feet. She had her hands clasped in front of her, hanging loosely by her sex. Her head was bowed, her eyes downcast.
The wolf stopped beside the altar, peering silently up at Morgan.
Could it be a coincidence that both Seth and Gia were gone?
Pearl brought her fingers to her throat, feeling Seth’s phantom touch on her skin. Her heart beat a hard, fast tempo inside her chest, squeezing icy blood into her veins. She began trembling.
“Miss Buchanan? You’ve gone white.”
She turned to Caden, swallowed, and shook her head. “I really have to watch?” she asked in a quavering voice, forcing her hand away from her throat and pointing to the glass wall.
Caden glanced at the scene unfolding a few feet away from them.
“Yes. That’s the point. There must always be at least two employees in here.” His tone was as offhand as his expression. “It will be over soon. This wolf’s sessions are always short. Morgan’s found a very clever way to speed things up.”
Bile rose in Pearl’s throat. For a moment, the wash of bitter saliva in her mouth convinced her she was about to hurl. But then she grabbed her coffee cup and slugged down the too-hot liquid with a wince. As soon as it hit her stomach, that nauseating sensation vanished.
Caden glanced at her. “It’s pointless for you to be in here if you don’t watch.”
Pearl forced her head straight. Her fingers dug into either armrest as she pressed herself deep into the couch.
Morgan was rocking her hips from side to side, hands still clasped coyly in front of herself, as the wolf gazed up at her.
“I’ve missed you, Daddy,” Morgan crooned.
Pearl made a sound in the back of her throat and twisted her head to the side, grimacing. Caden glanced at her, gave her an irritated purse of his lips, and pointed at the glass.
“Gah,” Pearl murmured, turning back to the glass.
“Grow up, Miss Buchanan. Have you never watched porn? Most men get off on the thought of a barely-legal girl practically bursting to please them.”
“Not the kind of porn I watch,” Pearl muttered before she could stop herself.
“What kind would that be, then?” Caden asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.
“I meant, I don’t watch porn.”
“Everyone does, Miss Buchanan. Anyone with an internet connection and the slightest interest in sex or what they think sex should be. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Pearl shrugged, but the motion went unnoticed by Caden: the man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together as he watched Morgan working her magic.
The girl spread her legs. She ran her hands up the inside of her thighs and along the sides of her sex, p
arting her folds for the keen wolf.
Pearl tried to burrow into the couch again; how was she going to endure this awkward scene, whether it lasted a few minutes or an hour?
“Wait, it gets better,” Caden said.
She threw him a disgusted grimace, but he was transfixed on Morgan’s performance. She could probably leave without him noticing. Which meant she didn’t have to watch or—
“Are you wet yet, my precious little slut?” the wolf said. He had a thick, deep voice that made Pearl think of those old-school radio presenters who smoked unfiltered cigarettes and only played heavy metal during their shows.
“Yeah,” Morgan moaned. She began fingering herself, running her tongue along the curve of her top lip. Bending over, she put her face right in front of the wolf’s. “I’m dripping for you, Daddy. Will you give me one of your special kisses, Daddy? I love it when you taste me.”
The wolf grabbed hold of one of her swaying, pendulous breasts and squeezed it hard enough to make her gasp. Then he darted forward and burrowed his face between Morgan’s legs. She grabbed the top of his head with both hands, her eyes fluttering closed as she ground herself against the wolf.
Pearl realized she was sitting forward and hurriedly sank into the couch, throwing Caden a furtive glance. He gave his head a slow shake and let out a soft sigh, sitting back on his couch.
“Tanner’s become too attached to you,” Caden said, touching his fingertip to his bottom lip. “He won’t let me send you away, despite how badly we both want that.”
Caden tapped a fingernail against the wooden console between their couches. Pearl glanced down; there were even two deep holes in the wood. For popcorn or soda? Could they really be that blasé about all of this? Chomping down on milk duds while they watched the scene in front of them unfold?
Caden pointed at the glass without taking his eyes away. Pearl faced forward again, swallowing. The wolf was still intent on devouring Morgan. And, judging from the girl’s rapt face, she didn’t want him to stop any time soon.
“Why?” Pearl asked. “I mean, why me?”
“He has his own, insufferable reasoning.” Caden flicked his hand. “Ivy’s always been a good distraction, but with her gone…”
