Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

Arnold might not like the idea, but if I could get this woman to help me escape I would do anything to help her. Even without knowing what kind of Other she was, whatever she was capable of without that collar, it couldn’t possibly be worse than what Max was doing to me and the rest of these people now. I was willing to bet that, like Royce, now that she had known captivity she was unlikely to hurt anyone without serious forethought once she was freed. She would probably need shelter. Friends. Someone who understood.

Even if Arnold wouldn’t help her, I wouldn’t stop until I found someone who could. She had to believe it—and so did I—if I was going to get her on my side.

“If we can get out of here, I know someone. He’d help you.”

She didn’t reply, her gaze going distant as she gave another tug at the metal band around her neck.

I tried again, a little more forceful this time. “I promise. If we can find a way out, I know a mage. He can probably do something about it for you.”

“What makes you think you can? I’ve been that monster’s prisoner since he was driven out of Boston during the police strike. A century, mortal. What makes you think you can find a way out of here when I am so much more than you and I’ve been trying for a hundred years?”

“Hey,” I said, tone sharp to cut through the despair she was radiating before it could infect me, too. “Don’t give up before we’ve even tried. You didn’t have me here before. We’ll find a way.”

The flat look she gave me wasn’t encouraging. I mustered up a glare, hiding creeping doubts behind a not-so-false anger that she wasn’t even willing to give me a chance.

“Are you going to help me or not? If you prefer to stay here, by all means—”

Her voice was soft, raw, but I still shut up when that haunted gaze met mine. “Please. I can’t remember what I looked like. I can’t be like this forever. Stuck in this body. This weak. I can’t.”

She probably didn’t realize her nails were digging into her skin, thin rivulets of golden liquid trickling down her forearms, accompanied by that sick-sweet smell of her strange blood. I grabbed her wrist, pulling until she noticed and stopped hurting herself. Glowing eyes narrowed and focused intently on me.

“Listen,” I said, “we’ll figure out a way out of this. Help me, and I’ll figure out a way.” Somehow.

Another voice from behind startled me. “You promise? You’ll get us out of here?”

If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought I was looking at Mouse’s twin. The mute vampiress had been turned by Max, and he’d been very intent on getting her back when he invaded Royce’s home, so maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see someone who looked so much like her. This girl was shakier, maybe, human and still talking, but otherwise a dead ringer.

Startled by that thought, I glanced around the room at the others peeking in warily from behind furniture or just beyond the doorways in the other rooms. Max was keeping a bunch of humans on hand for I- really -didn’t-want-to-think-about-what. At first I thought they were all women, but then I spotted a single man in the back, hollow-eyed, slender and swarthy. Even though his skin was naturally a darker hue, he looked too sallow to be healthy. As soon as he noticed I was looking at him, he averted his gaze.

Now that I was paying more attention, it looked like most of the women here—save for myself and Iana—were short, curvy brunettes. Most had pale skin and a fragility about them that made them all look like china dolls. They looked delicate and easily breakable, and, in some cases, already broken. The lost and hopeless or empty expressions were more prevalent than those with hope.

Knowing Max had a type was enough to set my skin crawling all over again.

The woman who had spoken to me was biting her lower lip, doe-eyed and clearly frightened. Whether she was scared of me or Iana or maybe of Max overhearing our plans was up for debate. Still, there was a sliver of trust in her gaze that made me ache for her. I only hoped I was worthy of whatever confidence she and the others trapped here might put in me.

“If I find a way out of here, I’ll come back for you. All of you. I won’t leave you here.”

Couldn’t leave them, more like. The thought of what Max must have been doing to these people sickened me to consider. No wonder they were so frightened. Mouse had failed to obey him once and was rewarded with decades of torture and the loss of her voice. What it must have taken to make a vampire as old as she was, who should have been able to heal most any wound instantly, lose her voice was too horrific to consider for long. What might he do to these girls if I found a way out of here and he thought they had helped or supported me somehow?

Not to mention that he might have Sara and Devon in his clutches. I had no idea what he or Fabian or Gideon might have done to the two after capturing us and knocking me unconscious. Devon was a White Hat—a human who was part of the Kill All the Supernaturals Because They’re Scary and Different club. He was probably still alive, if a bit emotionally scarred, since Gideon had taken a shine to his good looks. Of course I was worried about him, but I considered Devon to be smart and capable enough to find a way out of the mess. On the other hand, Sara, my best friend and business partner, should never have come with me to California. She didn’t have the experience with vampires that I did, and it was my fault she was taken. Maybe even dead. She shouldn’t have had anything to do with the Others, and had only come to Los Angeles because she had unwittingly been dragged into messes of my making.

The more I thought about what had happened to us and what Max might be planning, the angrier I became. I had to take a few deep, slow, measured breaths to keep my vision from turning hazy with whatever Other-ness was infecting me. I clenched my fists and focused grimly on the need to plan over the desire to dissolve into a helpless, hysterical wreck. Max frightened me, yes, but he had to be stopped. If I got out of here and he couldn’t get his hands on me, I had no doubt he’d take out his frustrations on anyone he thought might have done something to aid me. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to these girls, not to anyone.

This was about more than just me. This was more than just my personal safety and liberty at stake. Not only these victims surrounding me with their cautious, fragile hope, but whoever else might be stuck in the lower levels, and any men, women, and Others who might be taken in the future for Max’s slave auctions.

Not to mention any Others Max was planning to kill or enslave as he carried out his plots to take control of more territory. Clyde Seabreeze might only have been the first—or maybe only the first vampire whose territory was taken in Max’s name that I knew about. After all, I had witnessed his failed attempt at wresting control of New York from Royce. Who was to say it had been the first time he’d done something like that? And it had been clear from his tactics that he did intend to take control of the area and the weaker vampires in it, not destroy them. Even if he wasn’t a nice person, the former Master of Los Angeles could still be alive, captive somewhere. If this Ian Taft person was next on Max’s to-do list, he had to be warned. They all needed to be saved.

There had to be a way to stop this operation. As scared as I might be, I had a purpose now. No matter what might happen to me, I had to find a way to destroy Max’s empire, stop his plots to take more power and land, and free these people. No matter how tempted I might be to give in to fear or weakness, I couldn’t afford it anymore. There was too much at stake.