BOOK 5 - MUSETTE

Ember sat on her bed and held out a hand. "Okay, let's go through it. How do you feel about me leaving the house today?"

Oh, boy. Things were bad if Ember was trying to be comforting. Musette squeezed her sister's hand, sat next to her, and concentrated. No spike of terror at the idea. "That part is okay."

"Driving to the park?"

"Still okay."

"At the park?"

Musette shuddered as the icy fist returned to close around her heart. "The park feels... sinister."

Ember pulled away and crossed her arms. Placating time was over. "You've been to Talol National Park with me before. The most sinister thing we've ever seen there was the hungry squirrel that statue-stalked us to steal our snacks."

A small smile played on Musette's lips. "I can't believe you're still defending that evil rodent. He was a menace." He was totally a minion of Satan in a cute disguise and wanted her peanut butter cups.

"You tormented him. Every time he tried to come closer, you had to turn around and stare at him, so he froze. It took the poor thing forever to reach the picnic table. Remember?"

"You're trying to distract me." Musette flopped onto her back across the bed and sighed. "I know it seems ridiculous to you. You always say bad things happen, and it's nothing to do with my moments. I just can't shake the feeling something about today is wrong."

"Volcanic eruption? Sasquatch attack? Speeding glaciers?"

Musette tried to do justice to the epic eye roll she'd seen from Elizabeth earlier. "It doesn't work like that."

"Well, how do you feel about me staying home?"

Musette frowned as dread resurfaced. "Home doesn't feel right either."

Ember's face grimaced. "And what if I were to go to work with you?"

That sparked a new kind of horror. Eyes bulging, Musette's mouth dropped open. "You would never set foot in a salon! And you'd probably end up killing the entire bridal party. They'd all come back as ghosts and leave terrible reviews."

"I can see it now." Ember smirked. " 'Musette's makeup was murder. Zero stars.' "

"I'd be so fired." Musette laughed and terror receded.

Ember relaxed, offering a smile. "Well, your feeling about me in your spa-salon is accurate." She stood. "And if home isn't any better, there's no reason for me to stay here, right? I promise I'll be extra careful and call so often you get sick of hearing my voice."

"I'm sorry I'm being so weird about this. I can see you're trying really hard not to tell me to just get over it."

Ember hugged her. "Three in the morning is far too early for you to be awake. Back to your bed with you."

"But this bed is so much closer." Musette yawned, curled into a ball, and pulled Ember's bedspread over her head.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed," Ember rumbled in her best deep, growly voice.

"Save your Goldilocks jokes, Gingerbread Head," Musette muttered.

The argument could have gone better, but it could also have been so much worse.

Musette stayed in her twin's bed while Ember rummaged in the kitchen. A telltale squeak in the quiet cottage meant her twin was stealing her peanut butter cups. Would Ember eat them this time, or return them and pretend she didn't know about the treats, letting their unspoken battle wage on?

Little did Ember know Musette kept those there as decoys. Her big stash hid safely in the freezer, tucked inside frozen vegetarian entrée boxes. Neither Ember nor their aunt would pick up one of those. Musette wouldn't either, but the boxes made excellent repellent.

Her sister's boring black Jeep started and the engine sound faded as she drove away. Helplessness ate at Musette. Provoking Ember's temper never helped. At least she'd managed to get Ember to promise to check in -- maybe too often. Her twin probably wouldn't, saying it wasn't necessary when she returned home. It would be nice if these feelings came with knowing what to say, so people believed her.

Musette set the alarm on her phone and turned the volume all the way up. The bridal party would be at the salon at ten to start their preparations. There was time to sleep for a few hours yet.

A soft click woke Musette. Groggily, she blinked, trying to orient herself. Wrong colors. Ember's room, not hers. Six in the morning. A few missed calls from her twin showed on the screen. How had she missed those with the volume all the way up, but heard the door closing?

Two sets of footsteps paced through the living room. Too heavy to be Ember or their aunt. Who was in their house? Maybe her feeling this time had been about herself, although that had never happened before. Her clumsy fingers entered the incorrect pass code on her phone and it shook mockingly at her.

Maybe they just wanted to take something and leave. Between the money Ember made selling her photographs, and what Musette earned from her wages and tips at the salon-spa, they made a good living, but they weren't rich. The footsteps trod down the hallway, past Ember's room, straight to hers.

Ember's door was closest. Why hadn't they opened this door? Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She had nothing valuable. Why go to her room first?

Fingers shaking, she tried to enter the code on her phone again, but it slipped from her fingers, landing on the hardwood floor with a thud.

Musette scanned Ember's room for anything she could use as a weapon. The door burst open and a huge man with white hair filled the door frame.

Was it the man from the restaurant? Maybe he'd caught her spying on him and Nadya. But how had he found her? She screamed and tried to get out of bed, but ended up tangled in the sheets.

Moving faster than she expected, he leapt at her, straddling her body, and pinning her under the bedspread with his knees on either side of her. "It's in here, Allister."

It?

This man wasn't the one with Nadya, but he gave her the same sense of creepy. How many white-eyed men like this could there be in Port Storm?

She tried to keep her voice steady. "Take whatever you want. We don't have much money or anything valuable."

The man sneered. "That's what you think." He reached into his pocket, removed a vial, and unscrewed the cap. Musette struggled under her bedspread prison, but he gripped her face in one big hand and squeezed, forcing her jaw apart as he tilted the vial. Drops of bitter tasting liquid coated her tongue.

Lethargy swept over her in a wave. Her body, no longer hers to control, went limp. He climbed off the bed.

"Hurry up, Dmitri." Allister stood in the doorway now. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, making him appear more human.

Musette tried to plead with her eyes for help. For one second she thought she saw regret there, but he blinked, and any emotion was gone.

Dmitri threw Musette over his shoulder "Get the doors."

Cold air invaded her thin pajamas as he stepped outside, but the terror inside her was icier. A big black SUV hulked in the driveway. Allister opened the rear door and Dmitri slid in with her, positioning her in his lap. The door slammed, and he picked up a big white knife, sliding the tip over her lips to her cheek and down to her throat. He pressed the knife against her skin.

Musette tried to fight the tears, but they fell anyway. He leaned forward and licked them from her cheeks with a groan. The knife dug into her skin, then stung. He moved his mouth to her throat and his tongue lapped at her.

He'd cut her and was drinking her blood like some creepy vampire. Nausea welled. She wanted to throw up, but was afraid she'd choke.

Allister got in the front and started driving. "Stop. You can't use it."

Use her? For what? Her blood? Did they plan to ransom her and wouldn't hurt her?

The knife slid from her neck to her pajama top and a button flew to the floor of the car, followed by the others. Dmitri yanked the material apart, revealing her sleep bra. Musette closed her eyes. The greedy hunger stark on Dmitri's face scared her more than being stripped.

Once closed, her eyelids felt like heavy weights, but that was fine. She didn't want to see what happened next and longed to hyperventilate, feel panic, flail, something. This enforced, paralyzed calm made her mind struggle all the harder.

Dmitri shook her. "Open your eyes!"

Without permission, her eyes obeyed. Dmitri's crazed white stare bored into her. There was no trace of humanity in him. Musette knew without a doubt this man would cause her pain, and he would enjoy it. Despair and a wish to die before the agony began filled her.

His face blurred, white eyes glared from swollen, bruised flesh, a crooked nose and bloody lips. A small spark of hope glimmered in the darkness threatening to drown her.

Musette blinked. Dmitri's face was uninjured. Of course it was. She couldn't hurt him. But she'd never had a vision like that with one of her feelings before. Was it just wishful thinking? Was it something she could cause? Whatever it was, clinging to that little light gave her strength. She let all her fear turn into fury and tried to turn her eyes into laser beams. It only lasted a second, but Dmitri jerked back.

She cherished the momentary look of fear before her eyelids grew heavy and closed. She didn't have the will to open them again.

Dmitri kept touching her. His hands and knife roamed her skin. Fighting the urge to vomit allowed her to push back terror. He stripped her pajamas off her, even took her socks, leaving her in underwear. It was Sock Day! Surely it was bad luck to steal a girl's socks on Sock Day.

Righteous indignation spiked her blood pressure, and she wished she could poke him right in the eye.

The car stopped, and Allister got out.

Musette slitted her eyes open, glimpsed the ocean, and inhaled a whiff of salty air as Dmitri carried her through a warehouse. They must be at the port. Her stomach dropped. So she could be shipped off somewhere? She willed her body to move, her mouth to scream, but nothing happened.

Several trailers were parked inside the warehouse. Travel trailers? Were they going to move her that way?

Dark shapes huddled in the bottom of wire cages lining one wall. People? That confirmed traffickers had her.

They weren't going to ransom her. They were going to sell her.

The tenuous grip on hope slipped through her fingers.

Run, Ember.

Dmitri waited for Allister to unlock a chain on one of the travel trailers and climbed three metal steps to enter, carrying her like his bride across the threshold. She had a fleeting moment of gratefulness she wasn't going in one of the cages. There was no escape from one of those. Maybe she could get out of a trailer when this drug wore off.

But... what if the drug never wore off? Or they kept giving it to her? Only a few drops had taken all control from her for the last hour. What if she was stuck like this forever? Helpless to stop anyone from doing whatever they wanted to her.

Stop. Thinking that way wouldn't do any good.

He carried her past two couches to an empty chair. As much as she fought to move, her body remained beyond her control. On her right, two other women, one with short blonde spikes, and the other with long brown hair, had been stripped to their underwear and bound to wooden chairs. A third woman lay crumpled on the floor in a heap.

Dmitri tied Musette's wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair and wrapped a coil of rope around her chest to keep her upright. Squeezing her cheeks in one hand, he forced her face up to his. She tried to muster laser beams of hate again, but her defiance didn't have the same effect.

Motorcycles revved. It sounded like a hundred of them. "Our guests have arrived." Dmitri chuckled and left, slamming and chaining the door.

Musette's head hung, chin almost touching her chest. Now that she couldn't use her disgust of Dmitri's hands on her to hold terror at bay, it overwhelmed her and hot tears splashed onto her bare thighs.

"Listen to me," Spiky Hair said. "My name is Daniela. You should get your voice back soon. It comes back first, but don't scream. They like it when we scream and they'll all come running. You don't want that kind of attention on you."

Was that what happened to the girl on the floor? Musette didn't want any of this attention on her. She'd never hurt anything before, not even a bug. Why was this happening?

Daniela went on with her pep talk. "Get all your tears out now when they can't see, and you don't give these bastards anything when they come back, all right? You be strong and we'll find a way out of this."

The words helped, even though Musette didn't believe them. How were any of them, much less all of them, supposed to get out of here when they couldn't move? It didn't seem possible. But as she tried to stop the tears, one of the Mystical Moments of Madness took over, for the first time, about herself, and Musette felt she was exactly where she needed to be.

"Those in the cages are yours." Dmitri's voice carried from outside when the engines went silent. "You can take them with you when you go, or we can bring them to you before the auction tonight."

Auction? Tonight? Everything was happening so fast. When would Ember get back? Would she even know something was wrong?

Locks clicked and cage doors rattled as they slid open. Voices whimpered and protested, but silence fell again after the sounds of slaps.

A rough male voice said, "Whiro may want one of the witches later, but first we need to see what they can do."

Witches?

Someone smacked the side of the trailer. "There's one in here I can show you how to use," Dmitri said.

The chain rattled on their door. Her body didn't care she was still mostly paralyzed. It shook in primal fear.

"Give them nothing," Pep Talk Daniela murmured.

Musette willed her body to stop shaking. "I'll try." Her voice was back. That was something.

Dmitri returned, shirtless, his muscled, pale body on display. Something was off with his proportions. For as broad as his shoulders were, it seemed like his bones were too small. The muscles under his skin didn't sit quite right, like they didn't have the proper framework anymore.

She couldn't stop her heart beating faster in a near panic and hoped he couldn't tell.

A group of bulky men with dark complexions, and what had to be some sort of ritual scarring on their chests and arms, crowded into the trailer behind Dmitri. They all had the same whirling designs etched into their skin, and wore leather vests emblazoned with a lizard head on an ocean wave, and torn jeans. Their eyes weren't white, but they were as empty as Dmitri's when they appraised her.

Dmitri yanked on a blanket, revealing the naked body of a girl laying on the couch. She trembled as he neared her. He picked her up and sat, draping her over his legs. He swept his white eyes over Musette and the other women tied to chairs. "Watch, or I'll hurt it more."

Something creaked next to Musette. She flicked her eyes to Daniela. The woman strained at her ropes -- her wrists bloody where she tried to get free.

Dmitri didn't pay her any attention. He focused on the men openly leering at the girl in his lap. "Witches are selfish. They force us to pry the magic from them. The stronger the emotion, the more powerful the siphoning."

Witches? Magic? Siphoning? This had to be some sort of cult. That made sense with the way the men were marked up. And maybe with Mordecai last night. Maybe he was going to sell Nadya to these men.

Dmitri used the same white knife he had in the car and sliced the girl's thigh. She screamed.

Musette jerked in her chair, barely able to trap a scream of her own in her throat. She forced her eyes to watch, even though everything in her wanted to look away. Every man inhaled and stood straighter, like predators called to the hunt.

Dmitri touched the cut. Rather than dripping down her leg, blood flowed onto his fingers. He smeared it on his bare chest and it moved by itself, forming a circular swirl design, his expression a cross between hunger and relief. The symbol absorbed into Dmitri's pale skin, leaving no trace of what he'd done.

"We can take magic several ways -- blood, sex, and pain are the easiest methods."

That was what was in store for her? She didn't have magic! Only a sixth sense sometimes, that was clearly malfunctioning. What would they do to her when they realized they'd made a mistake?

The first men left and different ones came in. Dmitri cut the girl again, repeating the procedure for each group of newcomers. She'd stopped making noise, barely flinching as the blade sliced her legs, and that was so much worse. Each time he painted his skin with her blood, a little of the hunger left his face and he became more satisfied.

But it took forever, and the girl's legs were a criss-cross patchwork of cuts by the time Dmitri was finished with her. He stood, dumped the girl on the floor, and gave her a shove with his boot on his way out.

"Let's finish getting you guys what you came here for, then I have a date with a redhead." Dmitri stopped at the door and winked at Musette.

Her feeling wasn't malfunctioning. Horror made her heart stop. This was what her feeling had been about.

Run, Ember.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IDRIS

"So, you see, Boss, I was doing you a favor not being around when that witch --" Idris stopped.

Stryx wasn't listening. He sat upright in his chair at his desk, but his unfocused eyes stared over Idris' shoulder.

It wasn't like the Esag not to be hyper-aware. Idris twisted in his seat. The usual grey stone walls of Stryx's office under the compound on the cliff. Nobody in the doorway.

When he faced forward again, Stryx's eyes were closed.

What the fuck? Was he daydreaming? Did he have a mysterious woman he dreamed about, too? The phone in Stryx's hand creaked. That wasn't good.

Idris made sure his phone was deep in an inside pocket and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Boss?" He waved a hand in front of Stryx's closed eyes. "Boss?" No way was he going to touch him. That was a good way for him and all the technology on his person to get deep-Stryxed.

The Esag clenched his fists, crushing the metal, glass, and plastic of his cell phone. That was a new way for him to make technology suffer. He opened his eyes and sighed.

Reassured the Esag was okay and present again, Idris leaned back, stretched his arms and crossed them behind his head. Extending his legs in front of him, he grinned. "Who is she? It has to be a woman. Not that psycho, Tabitha, was it? You'd never go into a trance for her. Or a man."

"She didn't give me her name." Frustration hardened Stryx's voice. "She talked of wolves and men kidnapping her to sell to mages. They took her on her way back from the national park and probably her sister from their house earlier today."

"Mages?" Idris abandoned his slouching posture and sat up straight. His vampire side pushed to the surface. "Here?"

"Yes." Stryx went to the office door, opened it, and bellowed. "Karov! Ciaran!"

"You could have just texted." Idris nodded at the remains of the phone. "Phones are pretty useful if you don't crush them. Or zap them."

"That is a machine." Stryx dropped the scraps on his desk and glared at them.

"Well, it was."

Karov's deep voice carried from the hall. "You ate the same sandwich yesterday. I don't understand why you don't have some variety in your meals. Your diet is nothing but sandwiches, and now it's the same sandwich over and over."

The Hybrid was the only man in the Ildum able to eat human food. Something had gone weird when Tazraus tried to turn Ciaran, and he'd ended up only half-vampire. Idris envied him the abilities to eat and go in the sun.

Ciaran waved his food in Karov's face as they entered the office. "You don't understand because you can't eat. Yesterday was smooth peanut butter. This is crunchy peanut butter. Totally different."