The BloodDark Series
Book One
Olivia's Escape
By
Cindy A. Matthews and Adrian J. Matthews
Table of Contents
Title Page
The BloodDark Series
Dedication and Acknowledgment
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About Cindy and Adrian Matthews
The BloodDark Series
The BloodDark Series Book One: Olivia's Escape
The BloodDark Series Book Two: Olivia's Return
The BloodDark Series Book Three: Olivia's Decision
Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc.
27305 W. Live Oak Rd #424
Castaic, CA 91384
http://www.DesertBreezePublishing.com
Copyright © 2016 by Cindy A. Matthews and Adrian J. Matthews
ISBN 13: 978-1-68294-052-5
Published in the United States of America
Publication Date: August 2016
Editor-In-Chief: Gail R. Delaney
Editor: Lysa Demorest
Marketing Director: Jenifer Ranieri
Cover Artist: Gwen Phifer
Cover Art Copyright by Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc © 2016
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.
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Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
Dedication and Acknowledgment
To all our friends and family who have offered support and encouragement over the years—this one's for you.
Chapter One
"This wasn't such a good idea after all."
Olivia Brown realized talking to herself looked and sounded weird, but it kept her from freaking out. Besides, her one-sided conversation would scare off any dubious types lurking in the darkness, because who'd want to mess around with a lone psycho who talked to herself? I know I wouldn't. Keep it up, Ollie girl.
She pulled her denim jacket together, shivering as another early spring breeze hit her full on and threatened to knock her off her feet. Her thin coat and tank tee, which had been more than warm enough on the dance floor and in Brittany's car, provided no protection walking the flat streets of a Midwestern town in this weather. She'd pulled her long, brownish-black braids into a pony tail earlier in the evening, and the bitter wind now chafed the café-au-lait skin of her neck. If she didn't get home soon, she'd freeze to death.
Why in the world did she ever trust Brittany? Yeah, sure Britt got them into the club, and they got to hear Olivia's favorite local band, Los Bad Boys, but Britt had ditched her to hook up with some frat brother from the local college and the chance of scoring free beer and more.
Olivia gritted her teeth. This was the last stunt Britt would ever pull on her! She'd take Britt off her Twitter account as soon as she got home... if she ever got home.
Olivia wouldn't kid herself. She was far from stupid, in spite of her sometimes head-in-the-cloud ways. She realized what all could go wrong for a seventeen-year-old girl walking home alone through the worst part of town after midnight.
Her parents were going to kill her—if someone else didn't beat them to it first.
A crash of metal behind her caused her to jump and her heartbeat to pound in her ears. "What the—"
Olivia spun around, fists raised, ready to fight. An orange tabby meowed a sad, cold cry as it jumped from a garbage can lid to the top of a low shed. She lowered her hands and placed them on her heart. It pounded faster and stronger than the driving drumbeats of Los Bad Boys' super gorgeous drummer. Olivia warmed at the thought of seeing him in person and getting his autograph on her shirt. She vowed to never wash it again. Maybe it had been worth lying to her family and sneaking over to the other side of town to see them play. She started toward home again, quickening her pace.
"Time to make tracks like you, Mr. Cat. Wish I had your fur coat to keep warm."
Doing a half-jog, half run, it took ten minutes to reach and cross the railroad tracks, leaving behind the run-down section of her small town where most of the nightclubs and drinking establishments resided. Only two more miles until she greeted her quiet, well-lit neighborhood... Olivia began running full out, but within a block a stitch in her side slowed her progress.
"I've... gotta get in shape... Bikini season will be here soon enough."
She leaned on her knees and took large gulps of the arctic air into her lungs until it felt as if they'd burst. "I'll walk the rest of the way. There are even sidewalks and more cop patrols on this side of the tracks."
Humming one of the band's better tunes, she shoved her chilled hands into her jeans pockets. After briskly strolling several tree-lined blocks of renovated late-Victorian era homes, she'd forgotten how angry Britt had made her earlier in the evening. She made a mental note to call her friend before anyone knew she'd returned home and coordinate the cover story they'd both have to give their parents, since it would be obvious that Olivia hadn't spent the night at Britt's and vice versa.
She frowned. Their parents were always treating them like children instead of the mature, young adults they were. It was a double insult to Britt since she had turned legal age in late October. Olivia promised herself that in June when she turned eighteen she'd return the favor and borrow her mom's car and take Britt—and possibly Jace and Alexa—over to the club to rock out with Los Bad Boys.
"Almost home." She smiled as she reached the corner of her street.
Before she could take a deep, relaxing breath, she heard and felt a whoosh of air as blackness overtook her senses.
Chapter Two
If her head didn't hurt so much, she'd swear she was dreaming.
What a dream! Olivia didn't care much for horror movies or high fantasy sagas, but the dark stone edifice that rose in front of her would make the perfect backdrop for one of those stories, no problem.
"Jace must have told me about a game based on a haunted castle or something," she muttered to herself. "A wizard or an elf would fit in better than these guys, though. What's with the depressing coal-gray cloaks and hoods?"
Looking around, she took in the huge cobblestone plaza and the twenty or so figures outlined by a blood-orange light coming from a rather bright star in an otherwise pitch black sky. What star could it be? Their guides —what else could she call these hooded dudes?—pushed and prodded the group of frightened people forward, toward the stone fortress and away from a high-domed
pavilion surrounded by columns. The wall-less structure stood in the center of the square like a giant memorial. Somehow, she knew they all had arrived in this place through the domed structure, but how or when or why she couldn't say. The low hum of machinery echoed in her ears, causing her head to throb.
What had they hit her with? She rubbed her temples and neck but didn't find any bumps or swelling. Had she been tazed? A Taser made your nerves feel like they had been set ablaze according to Jace. What she would give to have her geeky neighbor here! Even a pasty couch potato like Jace would have calmed her nerves. These strangers and...guides...certainly didn't inspire her with any confidence. Fear and gloom hung heavy in the musty night air.
Olivia glanced upward at the heavens again. Her eyes had adjusted to the strange star's glow. She prided herself on her knowledge of the night sky, but these star groupings were unfamiliar. Had she been knocked out and transported to another world?
Don't go there, Ollie. You're weirding yourself out over nothing but a bad dream. Get a grip!
The blood red gas giant with dark striations, suspended low on the horizon, was the real clincher. She froze in place and rubbed her eyes. When did Earth get a planet buddy and lose the old familiar moon? Before she could dwell too long on that puzzle one of their friendly hooded guides poked her with the pointed end of a long pole, shoving her into the back of another young woman.
"Sorry. I must have been holding up the line." The joke sounded lame and she knew it, but perhaps humor would put them all at ease? She tried to match her pace with the tall blonde girl in front of her, noting the girl's fashionable purple silk scarf, designer mini-skirt, and high-heeled leather boots. Her new friend flashed a weak smile. Olivia had a sinking feeling.
"You speak English?"
"Français," the girl replied.
Before the blonde girl could speak again a guide—or rather a guard Olivia surmised—separated them with his cane. She sighed. A stickler for the rules obviously. No conversing in line.
Olivia quickly scanned her fellow... prisoners? Yes, they were all brought here against their will. There was no doubting the fact anymore. She observed a United Nations assembly worth of ethnicities and clothing styles. Male and female, rich and poor. Most appeared to be healthy and between the ages of seventeen and fifty. The true nature of her situation hit her.
"We've been abducted—from all over! Somehow we've all been taken from Earth!"
She was paid for her last comment by a strong jab in the back.
"Watch it, fella! My daddy will sue your butt off if you damage the goods."
Dad! Mom! Why had she lied to them? Why had she gone to the club in the first place? The guilt she felt over deceiving her parents threatened to drown out the fear of her newfound situation. She'd be home safe and sound in her bed now if she'd obeyed their wishes. What would they do when they discovered she was missing? It would break their hearts.
Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but Olivia blinked them back and set her face into a determined glare at her captors. I will return home, Mom and Dad. I promise.
The forced march came to a halt outside a high arched entrance of the stone fortress. Other cloaked individuals came toward the group and conversed in low tones with the guards who indicated with their long canes how they wanted to divide the hostages. A cold tingle of trepidation traveled the length of Olivia's spine in spite of the heat. My African ancestors must have felt like this when they were taken off the slave ships and marched into the market for sale.
It came as no surprise to Olivia that the French-speaking girl, along with six other young women who appeared under thirty, were herded together and made to enter an arched entrance different from the males and older females.
"Where are you taking us?"
No reply and no more hard jabs with the sticks, but still the guards assigned to their group forced them forward, down a long, dark corridor marked by a series of over-sized doors with what appeared to be locks on both sides. The scary entry ways could only lead to prison cells. After what seemed a mile of walking, they stopped.
Olivia looked at the tall blonde girl and smiled her support. The poor thing was shaking in her boots.
"You take care of yourself—and don't forget about me."
To Olivia's relief, the guards didn't separate the young women from each other. The group was funneled into a large holding cell, and the door slammed behind them with an ominous clank.
"I don't know about you, but I find it stuffy in here."
Olivia removed her denim jacket, grateful she wore only the tank top. She took a seat with the others along a wide stone bench built along the back wall facing the door. The room contained no other furniture or windows, but it appeared to have a toilet stall and sink in the opposite corner. It appeared their captors at least understood the basic physical needs of their hostages. The dim lighting came from an odd manhole cover-shaped fixture in the middle of the ceiling.
"Wonder where the air conditioning vents are located," she said aloud to fill the frightened silence of the room. "I sure hope they turn the air on soon or else we'll start to smell worse than a roomful of sweaty jocks after basketball practice—like my first period chemistry lab does."
The blonde girl grinned slowly. She must know a little English, but she doesn't know enough to reply, which is about as good as my Spanish gets.
She pointed to herself. "Olivia. American. And you?"
"Claudette. Swiss. I no speak much English. Italiano? Deutsch?"
"Afraid not. Some español and that's it. Languages aren't my strong subjects."
Olivia called over at a petite Asian girl lying on her side, curled up in a tight fetal position. "You speak English by chance?"
The girl appeared to be in shock. Olivia decided not to press the issue.
A young woman dressed in a black Middle-Eastern head-to-toe covering pulled her veil even higher across her face. She didn't seem able or willing to converse at present, either. A young woman with a long black plait clung tightly to a younger girl as if to protect her. Their bowler hats and brightly-colored skirts reminded Olivia of a National Geographic photo of women from the Andes.
"Hablan español ustedes?"
"Sì," the older replied, but the rest of her sentence came out in a rushed mixture of Spanish and Indian dialect. Olivia nodded, but she really didn't understand more than their names, Maria and Anita, and the word hermanas in the sentence. Sisters. At least they have each other.
She turned to the last prisoner in the cell. A thin African woman wearing a brightly patterned sarong and a multitude of beads about her neck shyly smiled at her.
"You don't speak English, do you?"
The reply came in a language that contained some odd clicking noises Olivia never heard before. She acted friendly and not quite as scared as the others, but she still appeared worried.
"You must think I look a bit odd with the hazel-green eyes and brownish hair I got from my mom," Olivia went on, trying to lighten the mood even if no one in the room could understand her. "My mom is part Irish and part Cherokee. I got my skin color and the frizzy hair from Dad. He's part Cherokee and part African-American. I don't know if any of his ancestors came from your area, but it's possible we're distant cousins."
The African woman nodded as if she grasped the gist of Olivia's ramblings and pressed a hand to her heart.
"Are you okay?" Olivia sat beside the woman and noticed unshed tears welling in the side of the young woman's eyes. "It's okay. I'm going to figure a way out of here, and you all are definitely coming with me."
A few words and a motion of rocking a baby to sleep in her arms gave Olivia a sinking feeling. Her baby! She misses her baby. These whatever-they-are took her away from her child!
Tears welled up in Olivia's eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hands. No time for tears—she had to be brave, if not for herself then for the others.
A metal clinking sound alerted them they were about to have compan
y. Olivia knew her courage was about to be tested. She rose and approached the door.
"Hey, we demand to see our lawyers and be told what's going on—"
The cloaked guards pushed her back toward the bench, forming a tight circle around another cloaked individual. His satin, blood-red cape with fancy gold embroidered edging spoke of power and money. Two guards wearing a crimson emblem on their black cloaks stood beside him. His personal bodyguards?
Olivia jumped up on the bench and raised a fist. "Look here! We have rights, and we aren't going to stand for any more of this silent treatment!"
A quick nod from the head guy and one of his foot soldiers pushed her flat against the wall with his staff. Olivia found herself watching helplessly as the guards herded her fellow hostages into a circle. She could do nothing to comfort them.
Two guards grabbed Claudette and pulled her into the center of the circle. She shrieked. The Peruvian sisters cowered, the Asian girl refused to uncurl from her fetal position, and the Arab woman shielded her face with her veil and turned away, sobbing. The African mother jumped forward to help but was forced back by one of the ever-present sticks.
"Hang in there, Claudette!" Olivia shouted.
The red-cloaked individual pushed his hood back. Finally they could see their captor's face. A collective gasp reverberated throughout the chamber.
Olivia laughed to keep up her brave front. "Ha! You're not winning any contests on looks, mister."
Human? Maybe. He appeared male and possessed the standard number of eyes, mouth, nose, and ears, but something wasn't quite right. She squinted and took a careful visual inventory.
The eyes, dark and cat-like, glowed with the intensity of dying embers, utterly devoid of emotion. The nose reminded Olivia of a "V" pointing downward. The mouth hung in a permanent frown, accenting his pointed chin, which seemed to match his narrow and sharply edged ears. His ivory skin tone appeared pale and unhealthy as if he'd rarely experienced the light of day.
He opened his thin, red lips to speak. Oh, no... his teeth!
Olivia's Escape Page 1
