by Sophie Stern
Then she starts speaking.
“I work at a place where girls are sold by the hour. Sometimes, we’re sold by the minute.”
“Oh, Greta,” I whisper. I’ve heard of places like this, but I know I can’t imagine.
“You have no idea, cupcake,” she says. “Human? You’re human, right? I can tell by your voice. You’ve never been to Dreagle, never even been to the slums on your own planet. You’ve never been anywhere that isn’t pristine and clean. You have no idea what people are capable of.”
She pauses, and I nod. She can’t see me, but I nod.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “I’ve never been off my own planet.”
“And that’s not even your planet,” she scoffs. “Earth was destroyed long ago. That’s beside the point, I suppose.” She’s right, but the words sting. I was born on Mirroean. To me, that’s my planet. To me, that’s home. It’s always been home. My parents were Earthlings, but I was born later. I was born after they immigrated to a new, fresh world. I was born after they took a chance and moved.
Angel squeezes my hand. Greta didn’t say anything to her. Does that mean I’m it? I’m the only human here? I’m the only one from Earth? I’m the only one from my own world?
I wonder if that’s good. Maybe the men here won’t even like humans. Maybe they won’t bid on me and everyone will let me go. Maybe no one will hurt me. Maybe I’ll be fine.
Only, I know before Greta speaks her next words that it’s a futile thought. Of course they like humans. Everyone does. We don’t wander around much, so we haven’t bred with aliens from most of the planets. This means most humans are full-breed Earthlings. It’s rare to find a human hybrid, so when someone does catch a human, that’s the first thing they want to do.
They want to breed us.
I’ve heard of this before, but only rumors. My friend Heather’s sister left the planet to work on Orchid and when she came back for a holiday break, she told us stories about life outside of Mirroean. She told us stories of women being captured and taken. She told us stories of aliens trying to seduce her so she’d have their child. She told us all sorts of things we weren’t supposed to know.
I think a part of me always hoped her stories were lies, made up.
A part of me always hoped her tales were nothing but ghost stories designed to scare us into good behavior.
I never wanted to think her stories were real, that the rumors were true.
I never wanted to think the universe was that bad.
“The guys I work with are nothing like these fuckers,” Greta says. “I work in a place where there are rules. They are boundaries. Money talks and they have it. Here? These guys are fucking buying us, ladies. There aren’t going to be any guards to keep us safe. There aren’t going to be any cops to look after us. There isn’t going to be anything. It’s just us and them and the things they want to do.”
“What are they going to want to do?” Angel asks.
I wish she hadn’t.
So does Greta.
“Close your eyes, Angel,” Greta whispers. “The devil is coming for you.”
Angel starts to cry and I wish she would stop, but Greta doesn’t say anything and neither do I. This is it, then. This is the end of the line for us. This is the end of our lives as we know them.
Unless I can find a way to escape, a way to get away, a way to make things different, we’re all going to be played with and tortured and eventually killed. Is that really how I want to go out? No. It’s not. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die because some asshole needed to get his rocks off with a human.
I don’t want to die.
I need to come up with a plan. I need to come up with a way to escape. There has to be one, right? Most girls either accept their fate or they freak out. Most girls don’t try to escape. Most girls don’t try to fight because they’re smarter than me and they realize there’s no way out.
But I’m not smart.
I’m human.
So I might not be wise in the ways of the universe, but I’m scrappy. I’m sneaky. I’m brave even when it’s the stupidest thing I could be.
There has to be a way.
I let go of Angel’s hand and begin crawling around the room we’re in. I have a general idea where the door is and I feel my way over to it. It’s solid wood. I don’t bother knocking on it to see if there are any weaknesses. Obviously, there aren’t. Still, I run my hands over the edges to see if there are any places where the wood has cracked or broken off. Maybe I can break off a little piece to use.
I bet getting stabbed with a piece of wood, even a sliver, doesn’t feel very nice. It could give me something to fight back with.
Slowly, I feel a little bit of hope creeping up into me, but then I feel a hand wrap around my wrist.
“Don’t try to fight them,” Greta says. “Trust me. It’s not worth it.”
“What do you know?” I hiss at her. “You keep saying how bad these people are, but what do you actually know? Nothing. You don’t know anything. You’re just like the rest of us. We can all imagine the worst possible outcome, but at least I’m trying to fight back.”
Greta doesn’t say anything for a long time. For a minute, I wonder if she heard me. Then she takes my hand and presses it to her cheek. I try to choke back a gasp, but I can’t.
Her skin is ridged, thick with scars. Despite the fact that we’re in total darkness, I can feel them. I can feel exactly where Greta has been sliced and sewn back together. I can feel exactly where she’s been cut over and over again.
“I know more than you think, Fiona, and these aren’t men you want to mess with. You? You’re human. For fuck’s sake, you’re probably a damn virgin. You’re going to go to someone who bids high and who plans to take care of his prize. Me? I’m going to go to someone who doesn’t mind taking a monster as a slave and trust me, Fiona: my time isn’t going to be nearly as pleasant as yours.”
Chapter 3
Quinn
The inside of the auction house is about what I’d expect a back-alley warehouse to look like. It’s really fucking damp, and dirty, and weirdly crowded. I’d guess there are at least fifty people present. There’s a large seating area and at the front is a small stage.
The stage.
The one where the girls are going to be paraded around.
The one where I’m going to see the human they stole.
Where the hell did these guys get a human?
Does the kid even know what she’s doing here?
I’m going to go crazy wondering about it, thinking about it, and the truth is that it really shouldn’t be any of my concern. It’s not any of my concern. Only, I don’t really believe that for a second. I’m not sure what I’m going to do when I see this woman. I’m not sure if I’m going to freak out and attack the people bidding on her or if I’m going to plan some grand rescue. I don’t know.
I’m not the kind of guy who makes plans.
Life is more fun when you’re spontaneous.
The guy who convinced me to wander into the shitty establishment guides me to one of the few empty seats in the front of the audience. These seats are roped off and he has to remove the rope from the aisle before I sit down.
Is this supposed to be VIP seating?
“Please enjoy yourself,” the man says in a hushed whisper. He places a bidding remote in my hand. It’s designed to offer a simply way to bid on the girls. All I have to do is press a button and my bid will be recorded. I don’t even have to lift my hand. I don’t even have to move.
After he gives me my remote, the man disappears back up the aisle. I wonder if he’s going to go try to get more people to join the auction. I wonder if he’s going to try to get other people here to buy the girls that are about to be paraded on the stage.
I take my seat and look around. I probably shouldn’t. These aren’t the type of people who are going to appreciate being stared at, but for some reason, I just can’t help myself. I’m sitting on a wooden ch
air that’s hard and uncomfortable and creaks when I move. The other chairs all look the same.
Save for one other empty chair in the front row of seats, the chairs are full and there are men standing around, loitering. These aren’t nice-looking guys. These aren’t the type of people I expected to see here.
What did I expect, though?
Billionaires in high-class suits?
That’s not what I’m seeing. The people here look like me: dirty, secretive. They look disguised, gross even. There’s one person in a masquerade mask, another wearing a gorilla mask. A few people have painted their faces and several wear large, baggy overcoats.
Whatever is happening here tonight is dark, even for Dreagle.
I swallow loudly. Suddenly, my mouth is dry. I turn back around and feel a chill settle over my body. I shouldn’t have come here. I know that now. I shouldn’t have walked into this cave of chaos and pain. I shouldn’t have come.
I’m not a hero.
I’m not the kind of man who even wants to be a hero.
I’m just me.
I’m just Quinn.
I’m a thief and a liar and I’m being hunted.
I’m no savior.
Just when I decide I’m definitely in the wrong place, that I should definitely leave, the lights dim and the show begins. This is it, then. This is the moment. A tall man appears on stage and the hustler from outside is beside him.
The men run through the auction house policies. It’s all very typical stuff. Basically, if you buy a girl, there’s a no-returns policy. You have to keep her or get rid of her: your choice. The bidding starts high because the location of the auction is quite discreet. There are no cops here, no authorities.
There are no witnesses.
I’m not going to be buying anyone tonight.
I’m just here to watch.
The auction begins. A young woman who is naked and gagged comes out on stage. Her arms are bound behind her, forcing her breasts to jut out ahead of her. They’re large, perky, firm. Her bright red hair contrasts with her dark brown skin. She’s beautiful, gorgeous, and the bidding quickly skyrockets.
She’s sold within minutes, followed by another girl, and then another. A young man is sold, followed by more females. Soon, the slaves begin to blur together as I start to feel numb. Most of the girls are crying through their gags. I wish they’d been blindfolded so they didn’t have to see who was buying them, so they didn’t have to face their captors.
I wish they’d been shown some sort of mercy.
Almost all of the women are dirty and covered in scratches. A couple of them actually have bite marks. What the hell have they been through to make it here today? What on Reslenoau has happened to them? Do they even know? Do they even know what their fate is? How could they? How could anyone?
My guess is that they’re all in shock, that they’re all completely numb to what’s happening.
My guess is that the girls who make it through the night are going to wake up in hell tomorrow morning.
Suddenly, the men around me begin murmuring loudly and whispering excitedly. A latecomer comes into the auction house and sits in the other empty VIP chair. He seems excited about the auction as he rubs his hands together. The tall blonde’s skin is so pale that it’s almost translucent, and I wonder what planet he’s from.
I don’t have time to wonder for long, though, because a girl is brought out and the man buys her.
And the next one.
And the next one.
Soon he’s bought five girls in a row and the other men around me are suddenly grumbling and complaining about their sour luck. The man beside me seems to have no financial limit and I realize that he’ll probably buy up the human girl, too.
If there’s even a human.
Part of me begins to think it was just a ruse to get more people here, but then they bring her out.
“Now,” the announcer says. “We have something very exciting for you: an Earthling! A real, genuine human. Isn’t she lovely?” He motions to her and I’m forced to agree. She is lovely, and soft, and curvy. Her dark brown hair hangs limp and despite the fact that she obviously hasn’t bathed or eaten much the last few days, she’s beautiful.
Graceful.
And then I see the blood.
Unlike the other girls, this woman’s hands are tied in front of her. Each of the other women had their hands bound behind them.
“Unfortunately, this one is feisty,” the announcer tells the crowd. A man cheers. Another growls. One person murmurs that he’d like to break her in.
I fist my hands at his words.
Women aren’t fucking meat. They aren’t property. They aren’t objects to be sold at a damn auction.
“She wasn’t quite keen on being sold today and tried to escape,” the man continues. “So she’s a little bit damaged now, but I think she got the message.”
Damaged.
That’s what he called her.
Damaged.
Her hands are open in front of her and the woman’s eyes are filled with pain. She shouldn’t have tried to escape from these men. They were obviously expecting it, ready for it. Still, she’s got fucking balls for trying. She’s got guts.
And now she’s got deep cuts on each of her palms.
The fuckers didn’t bother cleaning the cuts, stitching them up, or bandaging them before they brought her out.
Maybe they think she’ll be dead before they need to worry about any of that.
Maybe they just don’t care.
I don’t know.
But then her eyes meet mine and I realize that maybe today, maybe I am a hero.
Maybe just for today.
And for the first time since I arrived, I bid.
I bid on the woman.
I bid on the human.
Suddenly, I have to save her.
Chapter 4
Quinn
The rich VIP wants her, too. I can see it in his eyes. He’s looking at her with a predatory look in his eyes. He’s looking at her like he’s going to completely devour her. He’s looking at her like he’s going to acquire a new toy.
The bidding begins and he’s the first one to press the bid button on the remote in his hand. I quickly counter with another bid. The man on stage continues talking about what a beautiful woman the girl standing on stage is. There’s a screen on the wall behind her that lists the current bid. The number doesn’t stay the same for very long.
It swirls and spirals and shifts until it’s higher than any other girl sold for tonight. The monster bidder wants this girl more than any of the others who were here tonight. I bid, too, and soon I can tell it’s just the two of us going at it.
Many of the attendees are getting up and leaving. Once it becomes obvious this bidding war has become impossible for most people to keep up with, the attendees begin to file out. They grumble as they move, but my focus is on the button in my hand and the girl on the stage.
I don’t care what it costs.
I have to have her.
The number goes higher and higher, though, and suddenly, I realize I might not be able to afford her, after all. A million thoughts race through my head. What am I going to do if this asshole gets her? She’s hurt. She’s injured. He’s not going to take care of her and he’s not going to be kind. She needs someone who is going to be kind.
She needs someone who is going to be gentle.
How do I know this?
Something about her just calls to me, cries out to me, and I know I won’t be satisfied until I have her.
I need her.
We’re nearing the end now. One of us is going to drop out soon, and I’m not sure which of us it’s going to be. The number is dangerously close to my total number of credits and while I can probably earn more while I’m on Dreagle, I don’t have more now. I need more now if I’m going to win this girl.
But then I notice something.
The man next to me is starting to sweat and look anxious. He’s startin
g to look like this is the end of the line for him. He’s starting to look like nothing else matters but winning. He’s starting to look like he’s about to lose, and he doesn’t like it.
I click my button and raise the bid even more, and this time, he stands and growls.
“She should be mine, damn it! You told me, Eret. You said she was a sure thing.” These words surprise me, but they don’t seem to be what the man overseeing the auction wanted him to say. The auction manager climbs down from the stage and begins to whisper to the man, but he just pushes Eret away.
“You’re the worst auctioneer I’ve ever seen,” the man spits.
“I’m not an auctioneer,” Eret says, confused. “I’m just the manager. The bidding is all electronic. We don’t have auctioneers on Dreagle.”
This seems to confuse Mr. VIP, which clears something up for me: he’s not from Dreagle. This might even be his first trip here. I’m not sure, but it’s strange he seems so confused he’s not winning the bid and it’s even stranger he doesn’t seem to know anything about how auctions work on this planet.
“This is bullshit,” he says, standing. “Bring me my girls. I’m leaving.” He storms toward the back of the auction house and the remaining patrons quickly get out of the way. No one wants to be in his path as he storms out and I can’t help but wonder what the hell that whole scene was about.
“Bidder number 4502,” the auction manager glances at the screen and reads my number. “You have won the human for 342,049 credits. Please see Janette to pay and we will have your slave readied for you.”
With that, he takes the woman, who is trembling, and guides her back off the stage. She stumbles as she moves and he doesn’t catch her. Instead, she falls to the ground and hits the wood paneled stage with a groan.
“Quiet, slut,” Eret frowns and kicks her.
“Enough,” I stand up and glare at Eret. He looks shocked when he turns back to me.
“Excuse me?” He says, as if he’s not sure what I mean, as if he’s really that stupid.
“I said that’s enough. I’ll take her now. Bring her to me.” I turn to Janette, who is waiting to transfer my credits. I pull out a credit token and press it to a small scanner she’s holding. My token has all of the money I’ve exchanged into Dreaglan credits. Jeanette politely turns her head as the token transfers my credits from my account to theirs.
