by L. S. O'Dea
Lake of Sins:
Escape
L. S. O’Dea
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
LAKE OF SINS: ESCAPE
First edition. December 26, 2014.
Copyright © 2014 L. S. O'Dea.
ISBN: 978-1942706014
Written by L. S. O'Dea.
Also by L. S. O'Dea
Chimera Chronicles
Rise of the River Man
Feeding Fersia
Breaking the Brush Men
Rage Of Rattus Norvegicus
Leaving Level Five
Lake Of Sins
Lake of Sins: Secrets in Blood
Lake of Sins: Hangman's Army
Lake Of Sins: Betrayed
Whispers From the Past
Lake of Sins: Escape
Standalone
Lake of Sins Series Box Set Books 1-3
Chimera Chronicles
A Demon's Gift
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By L. S. O'Dea
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
Thanks for reading Lake of Sins: Escape. I hope you enjoyed the story. | FREE Book when you sign up for my newsletter | Get the next book, Secrets In Blood, for free. | http://lsodea.com/join-the-lake-of-sins-readers-group/ | Here are some of the perks of being a member of the Lake of Sins Readers’ Group
http://lsodea.com/join-the-lake-of-sins-readers-group/ | Also, check out the sneak peek at the next book in the Lake of Sins Series – Secrets In Blood and an excerpt from Chimera Chronicles: Rise of the River Man. Both follow the Characters section on the next page.
Characters
Secrets In Blood: Book 2 in the Lake of Sins Series. | CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
Rise of the River Man | CHAPTER 1
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Also By L. S. O'Dea
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To my parents.
Knowing that I was loved, unconditionally, has given me the courage to try anything.
I miss you Dad.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my beta readers for taking the time to read and give me feedback. I could not have done this without you.
CHAPTER 1
TRINITY BRUSHED THE DIRT OFF HER HANDS and stretched, exposing her claws and giving the small of her back a good scratch. She was the last to finish preparing her fields for winter. Everyone else was gone, hiding in their huts. Producers did not like the night, but being half House Servant she didn’t mind it. When she was alone or in the dark, she didn’t have to hide her claws or fangs. Still, she retracted her nails as she bent to pick up the spade and hand trowel. It was habit now. She’d learned as a child that either she concealed her differences or her parents would. She ran her tongue over her large sharp canines, so different from the Producers’ flat teeth. Mom and Dad had filed her fangs down only a couple of times before she’d learned to smile with her lips closed.
She tucked the tools under her arms and took a moment to memorize this view of her home. The Producer village sat in a valley. On the north and where she stood in the west were the fields, fallow now and waiting for winter. Dirt trails ran down the hill and into the camp, most leading to the pine cabins huddled together in the center of town with fires burning in pyres outside each hut. A few paths broke free and escaped to the edge of town where smaller, older cottages like hers sat. Other trails led to Shadow Lake, fed from the Elavital River which flowed from the thick, lush forest on the south and east side of the valley.
She sighed and headed down a trail toward home. She’d miss the freedom of the forest once she was gone. Although, it wasn’t as much fun sneaking into the woods alone as it had been with Travis. The two of them used to talk about what the earth might have been like before the Great Death brought extinction to all animals larger than twenty pounds and death to most humans. She’d learned about the event in some of the books that her dad had borrowed from his master’s house. Producers weren’t supposed to read, but Dad had taught her and her mom. According to one book, the Almightys were the last descendants of the human race. She’d searched every book she had but there was no mention of the ancestry of the other classes.
She stopped at the storage shed and put her tools away. She wouldn’t need them again, ever. Within a couple of weeks, she’d be taken just like Travis had been last year. She turned onto the path that led through town. There was no doubt in her mind that her name would be on the Harvest List. The Almightys only chose the finest examples of Producers to stay and breed. The males were always the tallest and strongest, averaging seven to eight feet in height and almost as wide. The females were at least six-feet tall and had to have large, wide hips and big breasts. She glanced down at her less-than-curvy shape. After the Terrible Sickness had killed her brothers and sisters nine years ago, her mom had switched her name with her younger sister, hoping to give her time to fill out. That hadn’t happened. At almost seventeen, she was over three years older than the other girls up for the Harvest List but still only five foot eight and less endowed. She shook her head. She was definitely a Lister.
“Hey, look who it is,” Clarabelle said, shoving Randy toward her.
Clarabelle and her group of friends stood near some huts along the path. She groaned, glancing down at her filthy clothes. It was just her luck that Randy would see her like this. If she hadn’t been so tired she might have remembered that the teenagers who were up for the Harvest List often hung around outside the huts well into the night. Sometimes, they even mated with each other. It was forbidden but the Lead Producers didn’t enforce the rule; they too had once been teenage Producers dreading their List year.
She stopped. Experience had taught her that it was easier to let Clarabelle have her say. She kept her eyes down. She made the others nervous when she stared at them. It had something to do with her not blinking enough. It was one more gift from her House Servant father.
Clarabelle stepped up alongside Randy so that the two of them blocked her path. Well, they thought that they did. She could zip around them in a flash. She’d love to do it too, but she wasn’t allowed. Producers weren’t slow, but it took them awhile to get going, unlike her.
“Have you finished my fields?” Clarabelle asked.
“What do you mean by that?” She glanced up at the other girl, her eyes narrowing. Her fields were the best yielding; they had to be in order for her and her mom to survive. The first five acres that a family farmed, the Almightys took ninety-five percent of the output. The percentage went down every five acres but not by much.
“Oh, you poor thing. You don’t know.” Clarabelle feigned sympathy.
“Know what?” she asked in a bored tone. Now, Clarabelle would tease her about being on the Harvest List, like she didn’t know that already. She wasn’t blind or stupid.
“Your mother is going to be retired this year and it’s obvious that you’re a Lister.” Clarabelle quit trying to look sad, her eyes gleaming.
She raised her head and stared directly at the other girl. Her mom wasn’t that old. There was no way that she was being retired. She clenched her jaw, trying to calm herself. She didn’t care what Clarabelle thought of her, but many of the others would be taken with her. She didn’t want them to have any reason to hate her once Clarabelle was out of the picture. She took a deep breath. “The Retirement List hasn’t been read yet.” That actually sounded pleasant.
She stepped aside and started to walk away but Clarabelle blocked her path. That was it. That one simple motion and her temper flared to life. “Neither has the Harvest List. You may not get to stay. Mirabelle didn’t.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she froze. She’d gone too far. Mirabelle was the first one in Clarabelle’s family to make the List.
“How dare you, freak.” Clarabelle shoved her. “Don’t ever say my sister’s name again.”
She flinched. They called her names behind her back, but never to her face. It hurt more for some reason.
“Do you hear me, freak?” Clarabelle shoved her again and she stumbled backward.
She was either going to cry or strike back; she refused to cry. “Mirabelle. Mirabelle was taken. Mirabelle has one leg shorter than the other.”
The others gasped. No one spoke about the deformity.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. Clarabelle’s face paled and then turned a raging red. This was not a good sign. The others moved in, surrounding her. She glanced around, looking for an opening. There was none. She was going to get it now. She couldn’t even defend herself for fear of her claws or teeth being seen. If that happened, her mom and Remy would be in trouble too.
“Hey, you kids. Break it up,” shouted an adult male.
The group of Producers eased back a little. She exhaled in relief. Troy was heading their way.
Clarabelle grabbed her arm, tight. “By this time next year, I’ll be eating crops grown from your soil and nursing Stuart’s baby and you’ll be gone. I hope they have something horrible planned for you.”
Randy’s jaw tightened at the mention of Stuart. He shot Clarabelle an angry, desperate look and walked away.
She jerked free from Clarabelle’s hold. It wasn’t fair. Stuart was Travis’s brother. He deserved better than Clarabelle. “Stuart will hate you before long. Your big boobs and fat butt won’t keep him happy not when you’re so mean and nasty.”
“Back up, back up.” Troy pushed through the group, using his club instead of his hand. “What’s going on here? Trinity? Clarabelle?”
The hatred and anger slid off Clarabelle’s features as she turned toward Troy. She shook her head, making her long hair flow.
Trinity choked back a laugh. Clarabelle’s charms wouldn’t work on Troy but his attraction to other males was a well-guarded secret.
“She was teasing me about”—Clarabelle wiped at her eyes—“Mirabelle.”
“Is that true?” Troy turned toward her, frowning.
“Not...”
“Yes,” replied a female from the group.
The worst part was that she did feel bad about bringing up Mirabelle. The other girl had been nice to her. Mirabelle hadn’t been a friend, but she had been a kind face in the crowd. “It wasn’t like that. I mean...”
“It wasn’t nice,” said Troy. “Tell her you’re sorry.”
She looked up at him. He wasn’t kidding. He was a Lead Producer. She had to obey but not without a fight. “She said my mother is being retired and I’m a Lister.”
Troy’s face softened. He smiled at her as if she amused him. “It sounds like you should apologize to each other.”
Her eyes met Clarabelle’s. For once they were in agreement. That was not going to happen.
“I don’t want her apology,” Clarabelle said.
“That’s fine, but Trinity may still want yours.” Troy’s eyes narrowed.
“You can’t be serious?” Clarabelle’s face was ashen.
“Oh, but I am,” said Troy.
She tried not to smile but couldn’t quite stop her lips from turning up at the corners. This was a dream come true. Sometimes, she really loved Troy. He understood her. He’d been born poor and had risen to the ranks of Lead Producer. He didn’t care for Clarabelle’s family any more than she did, but he did demand respect. Clarabelle was truly caught now.
“Trinity, do you want an apology?”
She inhaled, savoring the moment. If she went through with this, Clarabelle would get her revenge. The smart thing would be to say that she didn’t want the apology, but she did. Oh, how she did. She straightened and met Clarabelle’s glare. “Yes, I do.”
“I will get you for this,” Clarabelle said under her breath.
“That sounded like a threat,” Troy said.
Clarabelle’s face whitened. Threats were not tolerated. In reality they happened all the time, but no one was stupid enough to issue one right in front of a Lead Producer.
“I’m sorry, Troy. I didn’t mean it.”
“Apologize to Trinity,” he said.
“Sorry,” snapped Clarabelle.
“That didn’t sound sincere.” Troy smirked.
Clarabelle exhaled through her teeth, making a noise like a hissing snake. “I’m sorry, Trinity.”
It was the worst apology she’d ever heard.
“Do you accept?” asked Troy, his eyes bright with amusement.
She’d love to make Clarabelle say it again, but as it was, she was going to have to hide in her house for a few days, maybe weeks. Clarabelle would be watching for any opportunity to seek revenge. “Yes. It’s fine.”
Troy clapped his hands. “Well, that’s done then. All of you need to head home. I won’t be patrolling again tonight.”
Was that a warning to her, or a message to the others that they could sneak off together without being caught? She couldn’t tell by his face.
“Trinity, I’m going your way. Let me see you home,” he said.
She nodded, relieved. Her house sat on the outskirts of the encampment. She didn’t think Clarabelle would come after her tonight, but she wasn’t positive. They headed toward her home, walking in silence. The quiet seemed to unnerve him.
“You shouldn’t let yourself get caught up by that group. They could hurt you. Rem...your father would kill me if anything happened to you.”
“I know. It won’t happen again. Thanks for...well, saving me.”
He patted her shoulder. “No problem. Why were you out so late? Working the fields?”
She was covered in dirt. What did he think she’d been doing? But he’d been nice to her and Remy would be mad if she were snotty. “Yeah.”
The automated light hummed to life, illuminating part of the perimeter and the area right outside the encampment. It penetrated a bit into the forest, but not much, the vegetation was too dense.
“Looks like I’m going to be late for work,” he said, more to himself than her.
The guard shack was only a few yards away. It was Troy’s first evening on duty in a month, so he and Remy would spend most of the night together. The Almightys were very strict about same-sex mating. If Troy and Remy were caught, they would be publicly executed. She prayed that wouldn’t happe
n. Remy was like a father to her. Actually, he was supposed to be her father. He was her mother’s assigned mate and in a lot of ways was a better dad than her real one. At least he was around.
“You don’t have to walk me all the way home,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Excitement shone in his eyes.
It wasn’t too far to her house, but between here and there was the maze. All the crops that were harvested were packed in wooden boxes, waiting to be carted away by Benedictine’s, the Almighty who ran their encampment, Guards and distributed to the other classes. There were hundreds of crates, stacked several feet high. Once you were in the maze, you couldn’t be seen from the outside. It was a bit spooky in the dark, but she’d hurry through them. “I’ll be fine.”
Troy patted her shoulder again and hurried to the guard shack. She took a deep breath and darted into the maze. She was about halfway through when Randy stepped out of the shadows. Her heart picked up pace as she looked for an escape. She was boxed in, the large crates essentially making a hallway. Her only options were to go back or to go past him.
“Don’t be scared,” he said.
She hesitated. She wasn’t sure why, but there was something in his tone that reminded her of the old Randy, the little boy who had been her first friend.
At five, Randy had caught an inflammation of the lungs and the other Producers’ parents refused to let their offspring near him. Her mom was a healer so he was at their house a lot. He had been a quiet, kind boy often helping her to find and care for injured animals. A few years later he was healthy and he grew, fast. He started hanging around with the other kids and forgot about her, but she’d never forgotten about him.
Randy moved closer. If he reached out he could touch her. She took a step back.
He stopped. “Sorry about earlier.” He lowered his gaze. “Sometimes when I’m around Clarabelle, I do things...” He shrugged, giving her a shy smile.
