Penance_An Imp World Novel Read online

  “What did you do to your hair?”

  The voice as well as the jab of a broom handle brought me from my thoughts. “I…I dyed it?”

  “At least it’s not green or blue,” Pockmarks commented. “That other girl’s is horrible, and it’s short. I don’t like women with short hair.” He turned to the woman. “Can you fix that? Grow her hair longer and make her and the redhead into blondes?”

  The woman’s lips narrowed and her eyes flashed, then suddenly she became sultry and demure once more, hiding that powerful aura I’d sensed. “I suggest we use dye and hair extensions before we consider more extreme measures. I wouldn’t want to do so many modifications that they die on the auction block.”

  Pockmarks scowled. “None of the other girls you fixed up died before the sale. This is cosmetic stuff. It’s not like we’re telling you to make them six inches taller or anything.”

  The woman pouted, and every eye in the room turned toward her. She’d been beautiful, irresistibly sexy, before but suddenly she was like a magnet. Catcalls took a step toward her, transfixed. Then in a blink it was gone, and everyone took a collective breath. Pockmarks shook his head and glared.

  “You do that again, and I’ll call the boss. He’ll have you in a bottle for centuries. Forget ever seeing Hel again.”

  The woman lowered her head and her eyes, but I saw the quick glance of hatred she shot toward Pockmarks. “Box dye first, and then, if you are unsatisfied with the results, I will correct them myself. How long do you want the blue-haired one’s hair to be?”

  Pockmarks looked over at Pistol, eyes narrowed. “Past her shoulders at least. Go ahead and make her and the redhead into blondes. We’ve got too many brown-skinned, black-haired girls in this group. I want more blondes.”

  “It’s going to be difficult to bleach that red and blue to platinum,” the woman complained. “Let me dye that curly-haired girl’s a dark gold. Red can be a medium copper, and Blue will end up a dark ash-blonde.”

  He turned a glare on her. “Did I say blonde? I think I said blonde. I don’t give a shit how you do it. I want four blondes and four brunettes. Got it?”

  “Why can’t one of them be a redhead. I like red,” Onions complained, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Yeah, I like redheads, just not that color red.”

  Catcalls made a few lewd comments about the supposed prowess of redheads in the sack. Pockmarks quelled them all with a glance. “Well I don’t like redheads, and the boss don’t care as long as they bring in the bucks. Blondes and brunettes only. Preferably blondes. They sell better.”

  Guess I was about to become a blonde. Although judging from my skin tone and the faint hair on my arms, I’d been a blonde for most of my life. It made me wonder. I’d been the kind of girl that dyed my blonde hair a bright, unnatural shade of red. I’d been someone who’d turned to heroin for……whatever. I was someone who was a good choice to grab out of an alley or flophouse. Was I a runaway? Had my family thrown me out, disowned me because of the drugs and the crimes the need for them ultimately brought? I looked down at the backs of my hands, to see if they would give me any clues to my past.

  Unlined, creamy skin with not a sunspot or freckle in sight. My gaze moved upward. The faint blonde hair on my arms was gone. Nada. Now that I thought about it, I’d been surprisingly hair-free during my shower. Had I subjected myself to all-over body waxing? Did I have some disease that was making all of my hair fall out except what was on my head? Had I gone overboard with the laser hair removal treatments? I couldn’t be one of those people with alopecia, or someone would have commented on my lack of eyebrows and eyelashes. And I wouldn’t have long, bright red hair either.

  “Nice bunch, huh?” Onions asked the demon. “King did a good job this time. Got us some real beauties. Shouldn’t be too much for you to fix beyond the hair and some boobs here and there.”

  “No, not too much as long as you all can restrain yourselves from beating the crap out of them,” she snapped back.

  I glanced around and realized that Onions was right. Cleaned up it was very apparent that we were a bunch of very attractive girls. Very different, but each of us beautiful in our own way.

  Pockmarks looked us over again with a critical eye. “They’re pretty enough, but they won’t draw top dollar without some work.”

  “That’s why the demon is here,” Onions laughed.

  Pockmarks smiled. “Exactly. Five days with her and these girls will be red-carpet worthy.”

  “Silk sheets worthy,” Catcalls added.

  What a bunch of comedians. They were all laughing now, but they’d underestimated us—underestimated me. I might not be able to remember who I was, but I was determined that five days would see the nine of us free.

  I swore it. Right then and there I swore on all I felt holy that I would save these girls—every last one of them.

  Chapter 3

  They left, the sound of the lock being turned on the door loud as a gunshot. We all looked at each other and gathered up the towels that seemed to be our only clothing option right now. I found an extra one and between Mess and me, we managed to put together a makeshift sling for Tasha’s arm. Pistol wasn’t as bad off—mostly just the broken nose and bruising on her face as well as across her ribs and stomach, but I worried about the other girl. If only we had a way to immobilize her arm and some painkillers, I think she would have been okay, but being jostled around the back of a truck, filthy and dehydrated, hadn’t helped her one bit.

  “What did they mean she was going to fix us?” Pillow plopped down on the cot beside Tasha’s and hugged her knees to her chest. “It didn’t sound like it was just beautician stuff.”

  “Do you think she’s a doctor?” Kitten asked. “Doctors fix people. Maybe she could fix Tasha’s arm.”

  “And give us boob jobs on the side?” Sugar laughed. “Get ready for butt implants and puffy duck lips, girls. They’re gonna silicone us up before they pimp us out.”

  Mess sat down beside Pillow. “They were probably just trying to scare us. They said five days—that’s not long enough to be doing plastic surgery on us.”

  “I don’t want bigger boobs,” Pillow whispered. “Actually I do want bigger boobs. I just don’t want hatchet-job boobs done in a warehouse by someone I’m thinking isn’t a real doctor.”

  Sugar snorted. “I hear you on that. I don’t want that woman anywhere near me with a scalpel. Actually I don’t want her near me at all. She gives me the creeps.”

  Really? I’d thought she was powerful and gorgeous. Intimidating, yes, but not creepy.

  “Do you think we have any chance of getting out of here?” Kitten’s voice wavered. “I don’t want a boob job. And I don’t want to be a prostitute.”

  “I’m all about us getting out of here.” Pistol went over to the cabinets and started going through them. “Let’s see what we’ve got here. Maybe there’s something we can use as a weapon.”

  “Girl, ain’t you been beat enough?” Mess eyed the other woman’s face, which was swollen and sporting some colorful bruising.

  “I’m not just going to lay down and accept that my future involves me being a sex slave.” Each cabinet door the girl opened showed empty, except for the last one which looked like it was full of blankets. “No weapons,” she turned with a sigh.

  “Maybe we can smother them with the blankets,” Sugar drawled. “Or snap them with a wet towel.”

  “Are they going to feed us?”?” Kitten eyed the door nervously. “I’m so hungry.”

  “Probably not,” Sugar replied. “If you’re thirsty, you’ll need to drink water from the bathroom sink.”

  “Why wouldn’t they feed us?” Pillow asked. “Don’t they want us alive and healthy for this sale of theirs?”

  Mess glared at Sugar. “They’ll feed us. They want to keep us weak so we don’t run away or fight, but I don’t think they want us to starve.”

  “Clearly they’re not going to tonight.” Sugar hung her towel on the end of a
cot and sprawled across the mattress, wrapping herself in the clean sheets and blanket. “Might as well get some sleep. Not like any of us got more than a few winks in that nasty truck the last few days.”

  It was a good idea. The rest of us made our way over to the beds, each picking one. I ended up smack in the middle, between Pistol and Kitten. Sugar and Mess were closest to the bathroom, Pillow, Baa, and Tasha at the other end. Lacy hesitated a moment, then took the last bed between Kitten and Sugar. I couldn’t imagine how scared she must be, not understanding one word of what everyone was saying, trying to watch everyone else and anticipate what was expected of her. I could tell she was consciously trying to make herself small and invisible, to just survive this any way she could. But weren’t we all?

  Settling back on the cot, I sighed at the wonderful feeling of soft and clean sheets. After being in that hot smelly truck, these simple things felt downright decadent. I was clean. I had a bed to sleep in, a toilet, soap and shampoo and towels. Kitten’s stomach growled loud enough for me to hear and my brief moment of contentment faded. None of us had eaten more than a few slices of bread since we’d been put in that truck. Mess’s assurances aside, I worried that they meant for us to go hungry for the next five days. But hadn’t they said we were supposed to bring in top dollar? That this woman was supposed to fix us up for the sale? I couldn’t imagine anyone would pay top dollar for a girl who was so weak with hunger she could barely stand.

  “Do you think maybe that woman would help us?” Kitten asked. “She didn’t like those guards either. Maybe she can help us get away.”

  Mess laughed. “Honey, she’s working for them. They all work for this boss of theirs. She might not like the guards, but she’s probably getting some of the profits. Forget about her helping us. We don’t need her help anyway. We got each other. We don’t need her.”

  “Did you see the look in her eyes when the one guard said he’d tell the boss on her? I agree with Sugar. She’s creepy. She scares me. I don’t think she’s a nice woman.” Pillow shivered and added a few words in Spanish.

  Baa replied in the same language, and Pillow tensed, her face pale. The two exchanged words, then Baa made the sign of the cross and huddled on her bed, rocking as she clutched her blanket to her chest.

  “What did she say?” Sugar demanded.

  “She said that woman with the guards is a demon. She’s going to take our souls. She’ll kill us and take our souls and torture us for all eternity.” Pillow’s voice was unsteady.

  Sugar let out a curse. “I’m stuck here with a bunch of Catholic school girls. Idiots. Just because they call her a demon doesn’t mean she’s an actual demon. There is no such thing. She’s just a bitch. That’s why the call her a demon.”

  “She’s going to fix us, to make Pistol’s hair grow longer and other stuff,” Kitten said, her voice rising and cracking. “I think Baa is right. She’s a real demon. She’s going to do all sorts of horrible things to us, then they’ll sell us to someone and when we’re dead, she’ll take our souls.”

  Sugar rolled her eyes. “There is no such thing as a demon. She’s some kind of beautician maybe. She’s just going slap a bunch of makeup on us, put us in push-up bras, and put some extensions in Pistol’s hair. She’s not going to take our souls.”

  “Maybe she is a plastic surgeon,” Pistol said. “That’s how she’s going to fix us if one the guards cuts or bruises us. She’s going to stitch us up and do some kind of doctor-thing for the bruises.”

  “And make us look like supermodels in five days?” Pillow scoffed. “Baa says she knows a demon when she sees one. She’s got the sight, and she’s seen them before.”

  “Catholics,” Sugar muttered, flinging herself down on the bed and burying her face in a pillow.

  I sat up and turned to Mess who’d been unusually silent throughout the exchange. She was staring at Baa, an alarmed expression on her face. “What do you think?” I asked her, feeling foolish for even entertaining the idea that Baa might be right.

  “I…I don’t know. My mom used to tell me demons were real, but she was crazy. I never met a demon before to know. At least I don’t think I have.”

  “Seriously?” Sugar popped her head up out of the pillow. “Trust me. Tomorrow she’s going to show up with boxes of hair dye and some extensions for Pistol, and you’ll all see that there’s no such thing as demons.”

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Kitten begged. “Anything else.”

  “Like what?” Sugar rolled her eyes. “The weather? Sports? Politics? Whether we like it on top or missionary style?”

  “Stop,” I told her. “Don’t be mean. She’s just a kid, and she’s hungry and scared. We’re all hungry and scared.”

  I wasn’t. I was scared, but I wasn’t hungry. It was a bit of a shock to realize that. Maybe junkies didn’t get hungry. I would have happily downed a plate full of nachos right now, but I didn’t feel like my stomach was ready to turn itself inside out. Mine wasn’t growling like the others. And I didn’t feel particularly weak either.

  “I’m less scared when we talk,” Kitten admitted.

  “Whatever.” Sugar flopped face down on her cot. “Talk quietly though. I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

  I sat up and motioned for Kitten to join me on my cot, then pivoted to face Pillow. “You go first. Where are you from?”

  “Cleveland. Although I also lived in Dallas and Denver growing up. But that’s not what you’re asking, right?” Her eyebrows shot up. “My parents came from Columbia. Mom ran off when I was two. When I was fourteen, Dad got in some trouble and wound up in jail, which put me in foster care. I bounced around homes for two years, but the last one, the guy was a little too friendly with me, if you know what I mean, so I took off. I was doing okay in Cleveland on my own, but I met a guy and we took a bus to New York for some job he was supposed to get. Next thing I know, he’s gone and I’m chained to a bed in a warehouse with half a dozen other women.”

  I winced.

  “I live in Ohio too,” Kitten confided. “Cincinnati. It’s just me and my parents and my little sister. She’s such a pain in the butt, but I miss her. And my dog. She’s a labradoodle. Her name is Autumn.” The girl’s mouth trembled and her shoulders shook. “I love my family. I miss them all. I want to go back. I want to go home.”

  I put my arm around her. “How old are you?”

  “Thirteen.” She took a deep breath. “I met a boy online and went to New York to spend a week with him. A woman met me at the station, saying she was his mother, but instead of taking me to Cade’s house, she took me to the warehouse with the other girls. I’m supposed to be at a band camp. I’m supposed to be coming home tomorrow. My mom…she’s going to panic. My dad too. They’re not going to ever know what happened to me. I’m going to be raped and killed, and they’ll never know what happened to me. I’ll never see them again. I’ll never see my sister again. Or Autumn. I just want to go home. I want to go home.”

  The last word ended on a wail and she collapsed in my arms. It didn’t matter that we were naked aside from a towel, that we hadn’t known each other more than a few days. She was just a girl, just a child, and she was so scared. I looked up at Pillow, then over to Pistol with her bruised face, Baa still rocking on her cot, Tasha trying to find a position that didn’t jostle her arm, Lacy trying to sink as far into her sheets as possible, Sugar faking sleep, and Mess with that tired, resigned expression on her face. We needed to get out of here. I needed to get them out of here. It didn’t matter if I got beaten like Pistol and Tasha, I needed to get these girls out of here.

  Tasha turned on her cot, wincing as she moved. “My parents do worry as well. I came here to work for summertime. I was to call them. I never have chance to call before men take me. I know they worry.” She shook her head. “There is not much they can do from Ukraine to help me. I will not call, not come home after summer, and they will hurt for me.”

  Pillow turned and pointed to Baa who was whispering
something that sounded like a frantic prayer for help. “She’s in the same boat. She’s from Guatemala and was supposed to be here for a job.”

  “What about Lacy?” I asked. The girl still sat rigid on her bed as if she wanted to blend in with the pillows and sheets.

  Pillow shrugged. “No idea. She doesn’t speak any English at all, or Spanish. I think she’s probably Chinese or something.”

  Kitten’s crying softened and she lifted her head, wiping her eyes on the corner of her towel.

  “You tired?” I asked, my arm still around her.

  She nodded. I’m afraid to sleep alone. Autumn always slept in my bed with me, although she wasn’t supposed to. And sometimes when Casey was scared, she’d come climb into my bed as well.

  I had a clear picture in my mind of a fluffy dog with tawny curls, snoozing at the end of a bed with a bright blue comforter. The door cracked open, and a face peered in—an eight-year-old girl with hair a few shades lighter than Kitten’s and huge blue eyes. She smiled, then ran forward to scurry under the covers. The two giggled, staying awake far longer than they should have.

  “Pull your cot over here against mine,” I told the girl. “It will be like a sleep over. You can pretend I’m your older sister.”

  Older sisters keep their younger sisters safe. I could use a big sister right now.

  I leaned over and kissed the top of Kitten’s head. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

  And I would. No matter what happened to me, I’d make sure Kitten was okay. Thirteen. So young, and so scared. I had to get her out of here and back home to her family. I had to get them all out of here.

  And somehow, I needed to keep them all safe.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning the doors opened up and the guards came in—guards and the Asian woman. She shouldered past the men with a confidence completely at odds with her fragile, doll-like appearance and came to a stop in front of us.