Possession (2 page)

The minions opened the door for him.

He tugged hard on the leash as he started for
the mansion. Catherine barely avoided falling. Walking now made her
acutely aware of the shape her body was in. The big doors to the
place were opened as they approached. A woman with a
shoulder-length bob stood in the entrance.

“Lorcan! I hope your flight was pleasant,”
she greeted.

“Alana. I’d have one less minion if it were
anything less. Where’s Julian?”

“In the parlor.” She backed further into the
house, leading the way.

Catherine looked around. The home she entered
was part Gothic bordello, part Victorian opulence, with everything
in shades of red, gray, and black.

Lorcan tugged her toward the parlor, which
was dark green and cream. A blond man lounged on a settee, a drink
in his hand. He rose as they entered.

“Long time, no see, Jules. I’d almost think
we weren’t family anymore,” Lorcan said.

He sounded pouty, but she knew by now that it
was just an act. The two men looked ready for a skirmish to break
out.

“We were never chummy, you ponce. This the
girl?”

Lorcan let go of the leash so Julian could
walk around her. Catherine kept her gaze on the floor, but she
could feel the blond man’s scrutiny from head to toe.

***

“
This
is what you bring me? She’s
totally green! You expect me to turn out a
human
in two
months? No deal.”

Lorcan wasn’t deterred that easily. “Hundred
grand says you can, and will.”

“
If
she was part demon. For a human?
Six months, and no less than five hundred.”

“She’s already smart, so you just have to
instruct her physically,” Lorcan countered.

Julian rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna bloody
turn her, anyway. Just have at it and save yourself the dosh.”

“It’s
better
my way! Two-hundred-fifty
for two months. You can’t afford to turn that down, Jules. Word
gets around, you know…”

Lorcan was such an evil bastard; even the
pure blood demons respected his name. A well-placed word would
seriously damage Julian’s reputation.

“Three hundred on a tentative contract. If
she isn’t close in six weeks, then you have to give me the
appropriate
time,” he offered.

“Done! You won’t mind if I check in
periodically, of course.”

Julian sneered. “Of
course
. Any
subject you want her to focus on?”

Lorcan dismissed the question with a wave of
his hand. “Do anything you want to her, I don’t care, as long as
she remains…
untouched
. I prefer to take care of that
break-in personally.”

“Whatever.” Julian didn’t care, either way.
“Alana! Escort the wanker into the office so he can sign a
contract.”

“Happy to!” she sang.

***

Catherine attempted to swallow the lump in
her throat. She’d just been…sold. To this…whatever guy for
“lessons”, whatever that horror entailed. She wanted to go home and
pork out on pizza with her roommate and snuggle into her comfy bed.
But wishing, so far, hadn’t made this nightmare end.

She froze in fear as the blond man grabbed
her chin and lifted it to look in her eyes.

“What’s your name, girl?” he asked.

“Catherine,” she whispered. “Please don’t
hurt me.”

His grip tightened. “You will answer
questions I ask and
only
questions I ask. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“You’re what, eighteen, nineteen?”

“Eighteen.”

He nodded in confirmation.
“American…university student?”

“Yes…”

“The rules here are simple. You do as you’re
told when you are told, and you will be treated well. Disobey me,
or any of your instructors, and you will be severely punished.
Understand?”

Catherine nodded. He let go of her chin and
unbuckled the collar around her neck. His fingers were cool against
her skin.

Another monster?
she wondered.

Julian snapped his fingers, and a previously
unseen man came forward.

“Take the girl to the kitchen. I’ll retrieve
her shortly.”

The servant bowed, and took her arm. “Yes,
sir,” he replied, and led her further into the house.

***

Alana was just putting the finishing touches
on the contract when he entered the office. She handed both
vampires a fountain pen. Lorcan stabbed his hand, then wrote his
name on the paper in blood. Julian did the same.

“See you in six weeks,
Jules
,” Lorcan
said, and left with his entourage.

Alana shook her head. “If it wasn’t for the
money, I’d have told you to pass on the deal. That girl is a train
wreck.”

Julian shrugged. “She has decent bone
structure. There’s potential, but it’ll take a year to get her to
the same level a fledge could accomplish. Lorcan and his grand
schemes…always took too long for the kill. Contact our A-list.
We’re going to need the best to have a soddin’ prayer of making
that deadline.”

“Yup. Aren’t you glad I instituted that
policy about no refunds?”

“Eternally,” he replied.

***

The servant only gave her a glass of water, a
hunk of bread, and a slice of cheese, but it might as well have
been a gourmet feast. Of course, gulping down the water reminded
her of her need to visit a ladies’ room. Not knowing the protocol
for talking to a servant, she raised her hand and waited for him to
speak to her.

“Yes?”

“I need to use a bathroom,” she stated
meekly.

The servant rolled his eyes, but didn’t get
angry with her. Instead, he took her by the arm again and led her
to a tiny powder room she could use.

Catherine whispered “thank you” and closed
herself inside. There was no lock. She couldn’t have tried
anything, anyway, since the room only had a sink and a toilet, and
no windows.

It was the first time she’d looked in a
mirror since leaving the dorm to meet “Liam”. Her hair was fuzzed
out of her braid in spots, her face had bags and bright pink
patches, and her clothes were rumpled and dirty.

At least she was finally untied.

Catherine gently washed her chafed wrists,
then the “x” dug into the inner side of her ankle. Her sock had
been rubbing against it since they put her shoes back on to move
her.

The servant rapped on the door. “Time’s
up.”

Catherine came out, and was escorted back to
the kitchen, where she was told to sit and wait for “the
Master”.

Julian came in, his eyes always assessing
her. “Get enough to eat?”

Should she be honest? “N-no, sir,” she
mumbled.

He snorted. “Lorcan never did remember the
practical things.” He opened the refrigerator, then tossed a carrot
on the table. “You’ll be on a strict diet, here. No snacks or
sweets or junk. Finish that, and I’ll take you to your room.”

She was getting her own room?

Catherine bit off the end of the carrot,
wishing it had been peeled first. The outer skin was always a bit
bitter.

Her new captor heated something in a mug,
watching her as he sipped it. She supposed he would be handsome, if
he didn’t look so stern and cold. She felt like a bug under a
microscope.

“Come on,” he finally barked. “It’s getting
early.”

Catherine wiped her mouth with a napkin and
nodded, rising from her seat. He steered her where he wanted to go
by putting a firm, strong hand on her shoulder. His grip wasn’t
painful, but definitely unyielding. She figured he could probably
crush her shoulder with one squeeze if he wanted to.

They went up two flights of stairs to the top
floor and down a long hall. He finally stopped at a door and took a
key out of his pocket to unlock it.

“This door has no internal lock. It will be
locked from the outside whenever you are in here until we know you
can be trusted. Don’t bother trying to escape out the windows--you
can’t.”

The light flicked on, and Catherine saw a
surprisingly pretty bedroom. There was a twin size canopy bed
opposite the door, and a matching dresser against the wall, in
dark-stained wood. The walls were papered with medium blue brocade,
and the linens were cream. There was a pile of boxes in the
corner.

“My things?” she gasped, her voice barely
above a whisper.

“Lorcan was very thorough,” he replied. “The
loo is through there. Nothing fancy. Understand, Catherine, that
anything can be given or taken away depending on your
behavior.”

“Yes, sir. May I ask a question?”

He pursed his lips, but nodded consent.

“What exactly am I here to learn?”

“Many things. By now, you might’ve guessed
you are not among human life as you know it--you’re among demons.
As many species of animals on this planet, you’ll find just as many
demons, and they range from barely more than animals, themselves,
to highly powerful evil beings. In Lorcan’s case, there’s not an
ounce of humanity left in him. The pompous bastard likes to make
certain appearances, and that’s where you come in. You’ve heard of
a courtesan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, in the absence of his sire or his
childe, both of which have run off for their own schemes, he chose
you. He likes to have a lady on his arm that enjoys the bloodshed
as much as he does. That’s where turning you comes into play.
But…Lorcan has his games, and so he wants you built up before he
tears you down.”

Catherine’s blood ran cold at the thought. He
noticed.

“Did he hurt you at all before bringing you
here?” he asked.

“Just a cut on my ankle.”

“Let me see,” he ordered.

She sat down on the bed and removed her shoe
and sock, wincing as the sock pulled the scab away. He grabbed her
ankle and turned it so he could properly look at the wound. The
edges of the cuts were pink.

“I’ll send someone up with a first aid kit.
This looks on the verge of infection.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. His fingers on
her skin were warmer than she expected.

Julian let go and straightened to his full
height. “Get some sleep. Your lessons start this evening.” With
that, he left, locking the door behind him.

Finally alone for the first time in hours,
Catherine let her tears fall.

Chapter 3

Catherine was left locked up in her room all
day.

In the afternoon, a servant came by with a
breakfast tray and an etiquette primer. Breakfast was an egg white
omelet filled with vegetables, a glass of orange juice, and a glass
of milk. No salt, no butter, and the milk was one-percent.

He wasn’t kidding about her diet being
carefully regulated. Geeze, it wasn’t like she was fat…most people
would even call her skinny!

In spite of feeling vaguely insulted,
Catherine gobbled the food up. She skeptically eyed the book. It
looked old, from the ‘50s or ‘60s, maybe. Sighing, she started to
read, though it wasn’t like she was a cretin, or anything. She knew
how to set a table, cross her legs in a skirt, and not slurp her
soup.

At sundown, another servant came to fetch
her.

Catherine followed apprehensively, nervous
about what Julian would have in store for her. She was led into a
small classroom.

“Good evening, Miss Mitchell.”

“Good evening, sir.” She took a seat at a
desk.

Julian turned to a stern-looking elderly
woman at his right. “This is Mrs. Crumb. She used to run a
finishing school for girls. She will instruct you how to pass in
high society. You will do anything she asks of you.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. She felt very common
beneath the old woman’s stare.

Julian continued. “When you are not with Mrs.
Crumb, you will memorize this book.” He dropped a large volume on
the desk.
Zezzik’s List of Demons A-Z
. “You will be tested
on this book in two days. Every wrong answer will result in a
demerit.”

Catherine opened her mouth to protest, then
promptly clamped it shut. She raised her hand and waited to be
called on.

“Yes?”

“Just to clarify, the whole book, sir?”

“The whole book, Miss Mitchell.” He smirked
when she dropped her head in despair. “I’ll leave you in Mrs.
Crumb’s capable hands.”

As soon as he left the room, Mrs. Crumb
slapped a ruler on the desk, making Catherine jump.

“Sit up, child! A lady never has poor
posture. Where were you raised?”

“In California, by my grandmother.”

“What was your economic status?”

“We lived well enough.”

Mrs. Crumb frowned, then asked her next
question, jotting everything down on a clipboard. “Years of
education?”

“I was in my freshman year of college, until
two days ago,” Catherine said with a touch of bitterness.

“For what subject?”

“A major in History, with a minor in British
Literature.”

“And did you carouse with the other
children?”

“No. I was in class, or studying, or with my
roommate. There isn’t time for anything else if you want to
pass.”

Mrs. Crumb glared down her nose at her. “I do
not like your tone, Miss Mitchell. Control yourself, or I shall
have to inform the master that you are being belligerent.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Swallowing her pride around this old bat
wasn’t easy. There was something about her that just rankled
Catherine’s insides.

“Good. Stand up, please. The first thing you
need to do is learn how to walk.”

She had a fair idea of what this entailed.
Every American girl had seen something on TV about girls walking
with books on their heads. It wasn’t as easy as it looked,
especially since Mrs. Crumb insisted she walk at a normal pace with
the book still balanced. Every time it fell off, the old woman
would snap at her to start again, and again, and again…

After an hour of that, which had almost
brought Catherine to tears, Mrs. Crumb moved on to something
else--proper introductions. Every time she used a slang word, the
old bat would hit her on the arm with the ruler.