Thicker than Blood (30 page)

He was clean shaven, and I could see the
small scars that covered both his chin and neck. He watched me a
moment, looking thoughtful while running his tongue along the edge
of crooked yellow teeth.

“Oh,” I replied. “Yeah, I am.”

“How is it?” the woman asked, her hands still
busy working the grill. She was in the process of skinning a rat,
deftly freeing its wrinkled skin from its little body, revealing
the muscle underneath, and placed the fur in a neat pile with the
rest. “Is it still—”

“You know it is,” the man interrupted her
gruffly, giving her a hard glare. “Don’t ask stupid questions.” He
turned to me, his irritation evident. “You buying?”

“I, um, how do I buy something?” Rat or not,
I was famished. “I don’t have anything.”

“Then you ain’t buying,” he replied harshly,
turning his attention to the small crowd that had formed behind me.
As my stomach continued to growl, the woman threw me an apologetic
glance before resuming her work.

Wishing I had pockets to sulkily shove my
hands into, I stepped away, resuming my walk.

I passed by clothing stalls, homemade jewelry
for sale, accoutrements of all kinds, even little corner cafés that
boasted homebrewed beer. At the mere thought of a cold beer, of the
frothy liquid running down my throat, my mouth began to water.

“Hey!” a deep gravelly voice called out from
behind me. “Hey, woman!”

A heavy hand landed on my shoulder and I
flinched. Snatching the hand that was holding me, I twisted it,
pushing backward. Jumping away and spinning around, I found the
bearded man from last night stumbling backward. As he caught his
balance, all the while glaring at me, I noticed the food in his
hand—two grilled rats on skewers.

“Oh shit,” I mumbled. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t
know. I’m a little jumpy.”

Snickers erupted all around us, making the
man’s already deadly expression darken. Angrily, he thrust a cooked
rat in my direction, grunting at me to take it. And I wanted to, I
really did, but how could I? How could I trust him? Nothing was
free, not anymore. Not even what appeared to be a simple act of
kindness.

But I was hungry, God, I was so hungry. Yet
this man didn’t seem like the type of person I’d want to owe
anything to.

“I’m not hungry,” I lied, holding his stare,
though my eyes were burning with the need to look away.

“Eat it,” he grumbled. “You’re too skinny.”
He dropped his eyes, purposefully raking his heavy gaze up and down
my body, and again thrusting out the rat in offering. I stared at
it, at the fat dripping from its body over this man’s thick, dirty
fingers, making them glisten in the sunlight. Then I looked up into
his face, wondering what hands like his could do, the sort of
painful damage they could inflict.

“I said I’m not hungry,” I repeated, holding
my chin high, yet my voice was a mere whisper.

His beard twitched as he fought the urge to
smile. “You the fighter, right?” he asked. “New girl from the
wild?”

Still staring up at him, I could only nod in
response.

“Then I need you to eat, because I’ll be
betting on you.” Grinning, he fixed his eyes on mine as he took a
bite of one rat, sinking his teeth into the flesh, easily tearing
the meat away from the small bones. I decided then that his grin
made him handsome, though not a typical sort of handsome like Alex.
No, this man looked far too menacing to be considered simply
handsome.

“I’m someone else’s,” I said and flashed him
my brand as Alex had last night, suddenly glad to have it there.
“As you know.”

“I’m aware,” he said flatly, and again thrust
the meat toward me.

My stomach decided to take that very moment
to growl loudly, something this man found extremely amusing. His
mouth still full of rat, he began to chuckle. “Just take the damn
food, woman. I won’t ask you again.”

My stomach burning with hunger, I relented
and accepted the rat. But just as I brought it to my mouth, ready
to tear into it, he spoke again.

“You better win for me, Wildcat.” Tossing me
another grin, he turned and walked off.

“It’s Evelyn,” I yelled after him
obstinately. “Not fucking Wildcat.”

I stared after him for a moment before
realizing I still had food in my hand, and instantly the man was
forgotten. Biting into the rat, the taste of well-cooked meat
exploding in my mouth, I groaned loudly. Ravenous, I took another
bite, then another, smiling as I wiped an errant drop of grease
that found its way to my chin, then sucked on my finger. Soon, I
had nothing left but a pair of greasy hands and a small pile of
bones.

Pleasantly full, I walked on, searching out a
garbage can or some other means of disposing of the bones.

“A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the
hips,” a breathy voice announced from behind me.

I jumped and turned around, coming
face-to-face with a woman in a darkened doorway, her body looking
somewhat distorted by the shadows.

“I’m Dori,” she said as a wide smile grew
across her full pink lips. A dainty hand slipped free of the
darkness in offering, and I took it. Her gaze dropped to my brand,
and still holding tightly to my hand, she nodded. “Seems
fresh.”

“It is,” I told her. “I just got here.”
Trying to pull my hand free, I found her grip oddly strong and
unrelenting.

“That’s a shame,” she said, finally releasing
me. Her own hand still lingered in the air between us, her gaze
dropping to the bones in my other hand. Smiling broadly, she
gestured for me to hand them over. With a frown, I did, watching as
she greedily sucked the marrow from the small bones, reminding me
of myself only moments ago.

Uncomfortable, I moved to leave, and it was
only then that I was able to finally see her, all of her as the
remaining sunlight pierced the shadows. She was nearly naked, her
top so sheer I could see her two rosebud nipples peeking through.
My eyes traveled lower, then widened considerably.

“Don’t judge,” she said, then wheeled herself
forward and into view.

“I wasn’t, I…I…” I was desperately trying not
to stare at the empty space where her legs should have been, but
the more I tried to look away, the longer I found myself
staring.

“Sure you were,” she said with a laugh. “It’s
okay. I’m just lucky that I still have a hole for these assholes to
fill.” She laughed again, a dainty chuckle that matched her dainty
hands and pretty face.

Realization slapped me in the face. A hole
for them to fill…and my stomach began to churn.

“Ain’t much a girl like me is good for in a
place like this, but you’d be surprised what men like these days.”
She grinned again, and I suddenly felt downright sick. My newly
digested rat was quickly turning to stone in the pit of my
belly.

I struggled to think of a reply, the silence
between us uncomfortably awkward. “What did you do before?” I
blurted out, instantly wishing I could take the words back.

“I was a professional cheerleader,” she
answered, unbothered by my question. She laughed again, louder this
time, as if her answer was the funniest thing she’d ever said, and
I couldn’t help but laugh with her. If I hadn’t laughed, I probably
would have cried.

In the midst of our laugher, a shadow fell
over me, and I turned to find a man sidling up beside me. He was
slim, not just the half-starved look of some of the men around
here, but really thin, his skin pockmarked and greasy. As he looked
me up and down, a leery smile arose on his face.

“Uh-uh.” Dori chastised him immediately. “Not
this one, Steven, this one’s claimed.” In a flash, his smile
vanished, replaced quickly with a frown.

“Baby, don’t pout,” she crooned. “You know I
always take good care of you. What did you bring me today?”

He held up a small filthy bottle of water,
though I couldn’t tell if it was actually water inside or if the
bottle was just that dirty.

“And?” Dori asked with a soft smile.

Outstretching his other hand, he revealed a
small packet of white powder. A greedy, eager smile lit up his
features.

“Perfect,” Dori purred, pulling open her
blouse.

Steven’s eyes were now solely on her, glazing
over as his tongue darted out to slide slowly across his bottom
lip. When I glanced back to Dori, I found her hand had disappeared
somewhere beneath the layers of fabric pooling at her waist. As he
pushed past me, Steven slyly rubbed a hand across my backside, and
then together, the two of them disappeared inside the building.

I stared after them a moment, still sick to
my stomach.

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves
into?” I muttered to myself.

Leisel

“You’ll do,” Bethany said as she lifted her chin and
sniffed the air around me. “At least you don’t smell like week-old
garbage anymore.”

Narrowing my eyes, I turned away from the
girl before she could see the snarl twisting my lips. It was bad
enough that in only a few short minutes I would be dancing for a
crowd of drunken perverts. I didn’t need to add complications with
my coworkers into the mix. While Bethany wasn’t a dancer, she would
still be working the crowd, giving it up to whoever could afford
her.

Surveying the crowded dressing room, which
was more or less a broom closet, I found my reflection in one of
three full-length mirrors lined up against the back wall.
Swallowing back a wave of nervousness, I ran my hands down the
sheer material covering my body. It was supposed to be a dress, but
in reality it was more like half a dress. Although the sleeves were
long and the neck was high, the flimsy, nearly see-through black
mesh barely covered my backside. Underneath it I was wearing a
matching bra and thong made of finely scalloped lace I’d been
given, both a deep shade of red. All in all, combined with my
freshly washed hair that was brushed to shiny perfection, and my
smoky eyes and matching red lipstick, it was a very sexual look.
Sexy even, without being overly slutty…if it were something I’d be
sharing with only one man, not an entire room full.

However, I had a plan, a little trick I’d
learned thanks to Lawrence’s cruelty. It had happened by accident
at first, during one of his many beatings. I’d just suddenly
slipped away, finding myself emotionally and mentally detached from
my body, as if I were watching the abuse instead of experiencing it
firsthand. I planned to apply that same method, escaping my here
and now, to my dancing tonight. I would close my eyes, find a happy
memory somewhere deep inside me, and use that as my rock, as my
anchor that would see me through.

“Dancers! Get ready to take your places!”

An older woman called Mattie, with long black
hair heavily intermixed with sparkling strands of silver, clapped
her hands together in earnest. She was, for lack of a better word,
my boss, and more importantly, the madam of Purgatory. She handled
all of the women, more or less, responsible for designating them to
certain areas of the complex to sell themselves. She also
distributed the girls’ payment, as well as clothing and
accessories, pretty much all the things an old-world madam had
done, Mattie did as well.

She was surprisingly kind, a once-handsome
woman with a sharp edge about her that I instantly appreciated. In
a way, she reminded me of Evelyn, beautiful yet gruff, rough around
the edges but with a heart of gold.

“New girl!” she called out, beckoning me with
two fingers. “You first.”

When no one else made a move toward her, I
glanced around me, looking at the other girls for an idea of why I
was being made to go first. Was this some sort of cruel new-girl
initiation?

“Go, little mouse,” Bethany said, obviously
taking her cues from Liv as she gave me a not-so-gentle shove on my
shoulder. “Nobody’s here yet, the doors open in five. And you’re
going to need a minute to adjust.”

My stomach did a funny sort of dip straight
down into my intestines as my already sky-high anxiety skyrocketed.
Adjust to what, I wondered. The possibilities were endless, and as
my imagination ran away with itself, all of them seemed more
horrific than the last.

Despite my fears, I dutifully placed one foot
in front of the other, grateful that I hadn’t been forced to wear
heels. I could dance, yes, but in heels? No. Although I wasn’t too
sure how sanitary it was to be walking around Purgatory barefooted,
at least I didn’t have to worry about falling flat on my face.

Together, Mattie and I left the dressing room
and entered the bar, aptly named the Drunk Tank, which was still
silent and empty, with the exception of several men who were
busying themselves behind the bar. The space was huge, the size of
a high school gymnasium, and had been fitted with mismatched
low-hanging chandeliers. It was filled with tables of all shapes
and sizes, painted much like the rest of Purgatory, in a rainbow of
colors without rhyme or reason.

“Lower the cages!” Mattie called out,
snapping her fingers.

One of the bartenders, a burly-looking man
with a shaved head and his arms covered in tattoos, jumped up and
over the bar. With a salute in Mattie’s direction, he headed toward
what looked to be a set of gears affixed to the wall. His muscles
bulging, he raised a heavy-duty lever and the gears began to turn,
slowly at first, gradually speeding up. A grinding, clicking sound
erupted from above me, and I watched as large wrought-iron cages
came cascading down from the high vaulted ceiling.

My hand clasped over my mouth and I stumbled
backward, again grateful for the absence of heels. Half of the
cages were empty, but the other half…were not.

“Don’t be afraid,” Mattie said kindly. “They
can’t hurt you.”

Gaping up at the occupied cages, I made a
choking sound behind my hand. No, they definitely couldn’t hurt me.
They were missing half their faces, their lower jaws appeared to
have been sawed off entirely and their eyes plucked from their
heads, but none of those facts made such a gruesome sight any less
horrible.