Olivia's Escape Read online

  Olivia suppressed a scream. The man barked a command. His bodyguards each took an arm and held the struggling Claudette still while the red-cloaked demon slowly walked about the blonde girl. He stopped and stared intensely into her face for a brief moment. Claudette's eyes grew as large as saucers. He pressed his nose close to her neck, shoulders, and lower, sniffing as he went. She whimpered softly but otherwise didn't make a sound.

  Olivia's heart drummed faster. What is he doing with his nose at Claudette's hemline? What sort of pervert is he? And what's up with those teeth? Needle sharp and longer than any human's ought to be, he could pass for Dracula on Halloween without make-up or fake fangs. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she'd withhold judgment on their captor's motives for his odd behavior regarding the girl's scent. Perhaps he wanted to demonstrate how people communicated here—wherever here was.

  After several minutes of sniffing, he nodded and the bodyguards dragged the stunned Claudette out of the circle and dropped her unceremoniously onto the stone bench. They grabbed the Asian girl and tried to pull her to her feet, but she fainted and fell forward. Her unconscious state didn't delay them. The demon simply sniffed at her as she was propped up by the bodyguards. He made a disparaging grunt, and they dragged her back to the bench and grabbed the next—and the next.

  Each woman in turn was brought forward and sniffed like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher's display case at the supermarket. The sisters clung fast onto each other, but the cloaked guards separated them with ease. With a look from their captor, their cries gave way to an unearthly silence Olivia couldn't fathom. What power did the red-cloaked demon possess that could silence healthy young women in mere seconds?

  She would know soon enough.

  "I don't think so." Olivia held her ground when the guards grabbed her arms. She locked her knees and refused to budge. "You've had enough of your kinky games for tonight, don't you think? I demand to see someone in charge."

  Before she knew it, she felt herself being lifted up and carried over the others' heads to their captor. Only one way to prevent his blatant intrusion of their personal space—she shut her eyes and turned her head away. She wouldn't let him hypnotize her into cooperating.

  He gave a guttural cry. The guards forced her to face forward, but they couldn't make her open her eyes. Another grunt, sounding like a cry of anger. Demon Dude isn't happy. Olivia laughed.

  "Too bad. You'll have to release me now. I'm not going to forget your face or what you sound like or smell like 'cause you really do stink. I'm going to report you to whoever is in charge around these parts and get you in big trouble, because I have a feeling you're not exactly the nicest of guys or have too many friends."

  To prove it, a guard wrapped a muscular arm about her waist and someone else pried her legs open into a wide stance. Her heart sank. He was going to sniff her whether she cooperated or not.

  Maybe it would have been better to let him hypnotize me? I wouldn't have to feel his stinky, hot breath on my skin.

  Humming to herself, she suffered the indignity of being sniffed. The demon let out a high-pitch squeal, startling her. She felt the guards relax their grip and she ventured an eye open.

  Their captor smiled a horrible, needle-toothed grin. She wasn't an expert on alien facial expression, but she would have sworn he looked like he had just won the lottery. An evil glint in his dark eyes gave Olivia little comfort.

  "Thanks. I can go—the girls and I can go now?" She glanced over her shoulder and gave them each a look. Don't worry. We'll be out of here soon.

  He quickly clapped his long-fingered hands twice. The guards left the circle and grabbed her cell companions. Two of the demon's personal bodyguards took her by the elbow gently, as if they were afraid they'd bruise her. Why the special treatment all of a sudden?

  Olivia tried to smile. "Uh, are we all going somewhere, guys?"

  The demon gave a quick nod to the bodyguards. Olivia found herself whisked out of the room, followed by the man in the red cloak.

  "Hey, wait! What about my friends?"

  The cell door clanged behind her. She struggled against her escorts' grip, but they insisted she come along with them. Tired of dragging her feet—since it hurt and made little difference to their progress—she allowed herself to be taken to a flight of stairs and marched up several stories to another long corridor. This time it was well lit with taper-like lighting along the wall and doors made of what could have been wood. The hotel section of the fortress from hell?

  "What about Claudette and the others?" Olivia demanded. "Are they going to be moved to their own rooms?"

  The bodyguards halted outside a door with a small window built in. The demon growled a few instructions to them and the door was opened. Olivia looked inside and was surprised to see an actual bed, table, and chair and a small window on the outer wall.

  "Better accommodations. I'm glad you understood me when I said I'd report you for your treating guests so poorly."

  With a gentle shove, they propelled her into the chamber and closed the door. She heard a locking sound and then turned to catch sight of demon dude's ugly face filling the peephole.

  "Go away!" she screamed. "I don't want to see your hideous face ever again."

  He barked something that sounded close to a curse and slammed the peephole door shut. Alone at last, Olivia collapsed onto the bed and sobbed herself to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  The days passed in pretty much the same way. A cloaked guard brought her food about an hour after she rose and then left her to her own devices. It was quite a lot of food, mostly odd-colored fruits with the occasional bits of what could pass for bread or crackers and something that she took for a meat dish. Most of it tasted all right, and it didn't seem to be poisoned. After she had cleared the tray—probably about mid-day Olivia reckoned—another generously arrayed tray of food arrived a few hours later. Dinner and a midnight snack? At least her captors didn't want to starve her to death.

  They also provided her with clothing and toiletries. She slept in a linen-like, crimson gown and wrapped herself up in a luxuriously soft dark blue robe made from some sort of fur. House slippers softer than her granny's goose down comforter made her feel like she walked on air instead of a cold, hard stone floor. The handles of the hairbrush, comb and...tooth-polisher...were intricately carved from an ivory-like substance.

  The soap and shampoo smell like corn, but maybe that's considered a rare perfume here—wherever here is. These people really live first class.

  After five days she finally got the hang of the toothbrush. It had been designed with very long, narrow teeth in mind. She ended up having to brush each tooth separately, but it worked. From the small mirror above the wash basin, she was able to see she didn't look too worse for wear, but a look of worry and guilt still haunted her eyes.

  Were they fattening her up? Was she to be the main course at an upcoming banquet? Were the other girls receiving the same treatment and awaiting a similar fate? Had she watched too many horror movies?

  She tried not to dwell upon her fate for long. Gazing through the narrow window high on the outside wall, she hoped to see the sun—her sun. Instead, she gazed upon the small orange-red star bleeding a weak, red light from above and the lumbering gas giant moving lower on the horizon.

  "Still night outside. Maybe this is one of those tidally-locked planets like Mercury or Pluto or the moon? But who would choose to live on the dark side of the moon? Whoever heard of a habitable planet that didn't have a day and night? Crazy, just crazy..."

  Olivia sighed. Being left alone like this, she was bound to go mad and chatter to herself. If only I could get out of this prison. There has to be a way! There has to be.

  A week after she'd been locked up, her first hint of a reprieve came.

  She had almost finished eating her lunch when the door abruptly swung open. In strolled Demon Dude the Skirt Sniffer and his bodyguards.

  "I thought y'all had forgotten all about li'l o
l' me," she said in a deadpan tone as she lay her chopstick-like eating utensil down. "Is my stay up at your luxurious resort spa?"

  Demon Dude seemed to be doing his best to smile. It frightened her. Truth be told, it probably frightened his own mother. Olivia stood and glared at him.

  "You gonna give me my free phone call at last?"

  He pressed a small green button on a band he wore on his left wrist then spun around on his heels and exited, the bodyguards close behind him.

  She sighed. "What a short and friendly visit. It couldn't have been me. I've bathed regularly."

  An hour later, they returned.

  "You missed me?" Olivia laughed but didn't bother to rise from the chair where she sat molding a small sculpture of a dog from some of the mashed-potato-like food they'd heaped on her tray. "This is supposed to be Rex. It's sort of based on our half-lab, half-collie mutt. I sure do miss Rex."

  "Rex," Demon Dude said. "Rex."

  Olivia startled. She hadn't expected to hear him utter anything remotely intelligible. She wiped her hands off on her napkin. "My dog's name is Rex."

  He sputtered a sentence that sounded something like Spanish or possibly Italian. She shook her head. "Not quite following you, but you're getting closer."

  After a few more attempts in what could have been Dutch or Danish, he gave a tweak of the button on his wrist band. "You speak a very odd variant of a major Earth language," he said at last. "No wonder we struggled to tune the translator device to the right frequency."

  "I can understand you." Olivia rose as if in a dream. "I can actually understand you. It's been so long since I heard anyone speak English."

  "English?" He raised one thin eyebrow as if he were surprised. "We thought you spoke American. The retrieval coordinates show you were retrieved near the middle of the North American continent."

  "That's right. What are retrieval coordinates?"

  "They aren't important. You are here now, and you are our... guest."

  She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Funny how you treat your guests. Where exactly is here?"

  "BloodDark is here. It is our current home. We are located on the outer edge of the same galactic spiral arm where Earth lies."

  BloodDark. Appropriate name. It certainly beats "Medieval Land Fun-Time World," Alexa's favorite video. Blood-reddish skies and eternal night. A world that only vampires could truly love. She shivered and pushed the idea aside.

  "What is your name?" the demon asked her.

  "My name? What the heck is yours?"

  He nodded slowly. "Murnau."

  "Murnau, how did you transport me here—and the others? Where are the others?" she demanded.

  "Others? You mean the other young females? They have been processed and have been sent to various service positions in the city and on plantations."

  Plantations? Her observation about the place where they landed being a slave market was spot on.

  "Your name?" He fixed a hard stare upon her face. Her eyes seemed to lock into his against her will. Her mind began to drift into a hazy dream until she clenched her fists hard, pushing her nails into her palm. The pain brought her back to the present. She shook her head and broke off the contact.

  "Don't try to hypnotize me, Murnau. You didn't tell me how we were transported here and why."

  "So full of questions!" He made a strange, strangled squawk which must pass for a laugh on this odd world and clapped his hands. "Why, you came through the Portal. Fortunately for you, it is currently in our clan's good hands. You are to be our special... guest."

  Olivia squirmed under his gaze. She felt uncomfortable with the way he paused whenever he said guest. A race of beings who routinely locked up people they kidnapped from another planet probably held some strange ideas when it came to the meaning of guest.

  "Are all your guests locked up alone for a week and kept in the dark about what's going on?"

  "A week?" He acted puzzled at the thought. "You mean a time period. We apologize, but we must first make sure your physiology is compatible with ours. You must eat our food and breathe our atmosphere for a time period in order to become acclimated. Microorganisms from Earth in your system needed to be purged."

  "You had to quarantine me?"

  He looked at his two bodyguards. Olivia had a strong feeling that Murnau could communicate with them without words. "Yes, quarantine is an accurate term. Now you are almost ready to join us at our clan hall for a very special festival. You are such a desirable find. We want it made perfect for you. If you are not fully rested and acclimated, you might not enjoy it as much. We will speak more about the festival later." He turned to exit.

  "Wait!" She ran toward the door and tried to grab his arm, but his two stooges prevented her. "I feel fine. Can't I leave quarantine for a short visit to your clan hall?"

  The unnerving smile flashed across his otherwise dour expression. His dark eyes raked up and down her body as if scanning it for any sign of imperfection. "Soon. Very soon you will come to the clan hall. Tomorrow we will send someone to measure you for a new gown. My family is eager to meet you, and we like our...guests... looking their best for the festival."

  He paused and tilted his head as he considered her. "I still don't know how to address you."

  Olivia swallowed hard. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all if he was inviting her to meet the family? "My name is Olivia. Olivia Brown."

  Murnau flashed a crooked grin and maneuvered his mouth, struggling to sound out her name. "Oh-lee-vee-uh. A very nice name. Welcome to BloodDark. We'll see you again soon." He turned to his aides and nodded. "Overseers, if you'd be so kind."

  His bodyguards nudged her back toward the table before securing the door behind them.

  "It's nice to be fussed over," she mumbled as she returned to her food sculpting, "but what does he mean by calling me a desirable find?"

  Chapter Four

  Olivia awoke about her usual time—the blood-orange star located mid-sky and the gas giant slightly higher above the horizon—and eagerly began her morning scrub. She was going to be fitted for a new gown today as Murnau had informed her. Perhaps she'd be let out of her cell and then she could find a way to escape?

  A knock on the cell door a few minutes after she finished breakfast alerted her to her chance.

  A pro-basketball-sized bodyguard, the kind Murnau called an Overseer, entered. He wore a similar wrist communication device.

  "Greetings, Olivia of the Clan Brown." The Overseer gave a slight nod. "I am Wilok. We will measure you for your new garment for the... festival." He clapped his long-fingered hands twice and a much smaller figure appeared from behind him. "Do your work well and you shall receive an extra rest period," Wilok instructed the servant and then took a step backward.

  The servant rose gracefully from a low bow. Olivia gasped. The young man appeared to be about her age, possibly a year or two older. His good looks rivaled any of her favorite actors. Full lips, high cheekbones, a pleasant expression... His dark brown hair fell long and straight to his shoulders, a lone strand falling across his deeply tanned cheek. His bright brown eyes locked onto hers. She felt her thoughts drifting away, and it had nothing to do with hypnotism.

  "You're—you're human?" she blurted. He flashed a dazzling, toothy smile. Was that a fang?

  "I'm fully human on my mother's side," he said. "About half human on my father's."

  "Work!" Wilok demanded.

  Olivia jumped at the harsh bark, but the boy calmly removed what appeared to be a tailor's tape measure from a pocket of his loose-fitting, denim-like jacket. His outfit of a plain white tee shirt, dark blue jacket and pants reminded her of a prison uniform. It gave her an uneasy feeling that his was not a voluntary servitude.

  The boy started by measuring her height. "Four clats and three plinks." Wilok removed a note pad from a fold in his cape and scribbled down the nonsensical measurements.

  "Wow, I thought I had to be at least five clats tall," she muttered for only the boy
to hear. "What's your name?"

  "Hernando." He took her left arm and held it out to measure it from shoulder to fingertip. Olivia felt a delicious shiver of anticipation at the touch of his hand on her skin. "Two clats and an eighth of a plink," Hernando informed his master.

  Wilok frowned in concentration as he recorded the measurements. The Overseer wasn't watching them too closely, so she continued in a low voice.

  "You sound American, Hernando. Did they kidnap you, too?"

  "I was born here on BloodDark." He dipped to measure her outside leg and whispered, "But I've heard stories of how my mother's family came from the city of Lost Angels on the other world."

  "Lost Angels?" Her voice rose. Wilok glared at them. She coughed, pretending to clear her throat. "Sorry. Do you think they might have come from Los Angeles?"

  Hernando shrugged. "Two clats, four plinks."

  Wilok dutifully wrote down the data. Hernando took the tape measure and flung it about her waist. Olivia gasped at his nearness.

  He grinned. "It's okay. You don't have to hold your breath."

  She batted her eyelashes at him in a playful manner. "I do want to look my best for the clan's festival," she joked, imitating her maternal grandmother's southern accent. Poor Mom, she must be worried sick. Can't think about that right now. Must get out of here first.

  "How good you look isn't exactly what they're interested in." Hernando frowned. "Seventy-six plinks," he called out and moved the tape measure to her hips.

  Olivia sensed his apprehension and swallowed hard. "Still, a girl always wants to put on a good show, particularly if she's going out on the town and hoping to get away from this...this place."

  She felt certain Hernando could interpret the true meaning behind her words, but he remained mute. He avoided her inquiring gaze as he took the remaining measurements.

  "Hips—ninety-two plinks." He moved higher. She tingled all over. "Bust—eighty-eight plinks."

  Did Hernando feel as embarrassed as she did at being so close or was he simply following orders and trying to ignore her? Wilok seemed absorbed with his scribbling. Was he designing the dress as Hernando took the measurements?