Page 3

Elsie

I wake up in a fetal position on a cold, hard surface. My head is pounding, and my mouth is so dry my tongue sticks to my palate. The rattling of my bones as I shiver convulsively doesn’t help my headache. Wherever I am, it’s like a fucking freezer in here.

Something sharp digs into my cheek. I turn onto my back and dust off the grit that sticks to the side of my face. With the splitting headache that hammers in my temples, the smallest movement hurts. I grind my teeth against the pain, crunching sand between my molars.

Where the fuck am I?

I peel open my eyelids and scan my surroundings. The darkness is so thick I can’t see a thing. A dull ache pulses at the back of my skull. I brush my hand over the spot and hiss when I press on a huge egg.

Ouch.

My fingers come away wet and sticky. I bring them to my nose and inhale the metallic scent of blood.

The bastard who hit me most likely gave me a concussion with his makeshift baseball bat.

Groaning, I sit up carefully. “Fuck.” That hurts.

“Quiet,” a woman whispers in a strained tone. “You don’t want to let them know you’re awake.”

I recognize that British accent. “Where am I?”

“In one of the cells.”

Sniffling comes from the corner.

“Hush, Maeva,” the British woman says. “Try to get some sleep.”

Sleeping in the bitter cold and in the harrowing situation we find ourselves in is out of the question. I get onto my hands and knees, almost puking from the pain that increases with the minor effort, and test my balance before pushing to my feet.

Swallowing down bile, I feel my way through the darkness with my arms stretched out in front of me.

All the while, I fight the dizziness that threatens to claim me.

I take tiny steps, cautiously putting one foot in front of the other until I hit a barrier.

I sweep my palms over the surface. The wall appears to be made of vertical poles that are covered with scratchy fabric.

I walk along the length, searching until I find the edge of the rough cloth, and pull it aside.

The rudimentary drape acts as a curtain.

Behind it is a wall crudely fabricated of branches that act as prison bars.

A soft glow spills through the narrow gaps between the bars.

The light comes from a fire that burns on the ground below.

The smell of the smoke is thick outside.

It seeps inside, already clinging to my clothes and hair.

The silhouettes of the stilted houses are visible around the clearing.

The sky is scattered with stars but moonless, leaving the landscape dark beyond the border of the trees.

When I turn my gaze back to the room, a circle of pale faces are staring wide-eyed at me. The group is a mix of different ages. I count one man and five women.

“What are you doing?” one of them whispers. “They’ll punish you.”

I snort. “They can try.”

“They’re forever punishing us,” someone else replies wryly. “We don’t even know why, so what difference does it make?”

I bundle the cloth between two bars to keep a corner open for a bit of light and slide down to the dirt floor. This way, I can also keep an eye on the clearing and on the Phaelix when they return. Bracing my back against one of the branches, I wrap my arms around my knees to maintain some warmth.

A woman creeps closer and sits down in front of me. Her golden-blond hair catches the light. I recognize her from earlier.

“I’m Sandy,” she says, keeping her voice down.

I lean my head against the pillar and swallow more bile. Nausea is definitely a symptom of a concussion.

She studies me with a curious expression. “What happened to you? How did you end up here after that Alit took you away?”

I sigh. “It’s a long story. In short, I escaped. What about you? I thought you’d gotten away with the barge. I hoped you’d found a portal to take you back to Earth.”

“We did get away.” She snickers. “I did some sailing in my day.”

The man shuffles toward us on his knees. “We ran into slavers while crossing the jungle.” His accent is Germanic. “The bastards got us again.” A long, unkempt beard matches the chestnut color of his shoulder-length hair. “We didn’t stand a chance.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Karl, by the way.”

I shake his hand, wincing at how thin and bony his fingers feel in my palm.

The woman called Maeva whimpers louder in her corner.

“Shh.” A willowy woman with platinum-blond hair throws an arm around Maeva’s shoulder. “There now, dorogaya . I’ve got you.”

“Maeva wasn’t with us.” Sandy sneers as she juts her chin toward the clearing. “Those dogs already had her when they intercepted the rest of us. Who knows what they’ve done to her? She never speaks.” She taps her temple. “She’s fragile up here.”

“We’ve all been here for different lengths of time,” the redhead says, moving toward our circle. “But Maeva seems to have had it the worst.”

“What about you?” I ask Sandy. “How long have you been here?”

She squares her shoulders. “Longer than the others, but I’m strong. It’ll take those motherfuckers a hell of a lot more to break me.”

I look around the room. “How did you all end up on this planet?”

“The same way,” Karl says. “The last thing each of us remembers was being sucked through a circle of colorful lights. There’s no regularity to the abductions. We come from different backgrounds and places.”

“I was taken from Central Park where I was jogging early in the morning,” the redhead says. “Alexa.” She gives a little wave. “Pleased to meet you. I wish it was under more pleasant circumstances.”

“I’m Irina,” the platinum blonde says in a strong Russian accent. “I was walking home from work in Moscow.”

“What about you?” Sandy asks. “What were you doing in Cleveland when they took you?”

“I was in the hospital.” I bite my lower lip as I consider if there could be a pattern to the kidnappings. “I wonder how they choose their targets?”

“From what we could figure out, the abductions are random,” Alexa says.

“We’re from different countries around the world, including Germany, Kenya, the USA, the UK, and Russia.

We’re not sure where Maeva is from, but I think she could be either from Canada or France because she sometimes mutters in French in her sleep.

” She averts her eyes. “The others who didn’t make it were from China, Belgium, Spain, and other countries in Europe and Asia.

Most of them only spoke a few words of English. ”

I look around the group. The same air of despondency surrounds each of them. They’re dirty and undernourished, which worries me. Even more concerning is the scene I witnessed when the Phaelix pushed Alexa down on the ground.

Lifting my head, I clear my throat. “Are we slaves as in forced, unpaid labor, or are we sex slaves?”

“So far, they’ve only used us to cook and clean for them,” Sandy says. “But I overheard them talking about a slave auction that’s happening soon.” She bares her teeth. “I bet that’s when we’ll truly find out.”

Maeva utters a high-pitched cry.

“Shh, dorogaya ,” Irina says, pulling Maeva’s head onto her shoulder.

I catch Alexa’s gaze. “That’s not what it looked like earlier.”

“That was a first,” she says, quivering while rubbing her arms. “They got really worked up about the dinosaur that circled over the huts. They call them dragons. I don’t know what got into them, but you don’t want to unleash their violence.

It seems that danger and fighting make them fucking horny. ”

“Bastards,” Karl bites out.

I think about my own near-rape experience and suppress a shudder.

“Have you tried to escape?” I ask.

“Impossible,” Sandy says. “They always keep watch. Even now, one of them is guarding the area from their outlook decks in the trees.” She turns her face to Irina. “And we all know what happens when you try.”

Irina drops the sleeve of her blouse and shows me half of her back. Long slashes crisscross her shoulder blade. “They did this with a thorny branch. I’m lucky it healed without getting infected.”

Fuck.

Alexa leans closer. “If you don’t do what they say, they drop a slug-like leech into your ear.” She points at a woman with cherub cheeks that sits in the center of the floor. “That’s how Eucabeth went deaf. From how she screamed, it must’ve been agonizing.”

Cruel fuckers. They’ll get what they deserve. Too bad we need some of them alive to get off this planet.

“Have you found out anything about the portals?” I ask. “Those lizards brought us here. Some of them must be able to create portals that can take us back.”

Sandy shakes her head. “They don’t even discuss it among themselves when they think we’re not listening, and they’re aware that I’m the only one who understands a little of their language. It must be a tightly guarded secret.”

If only I could connect with the prawns, but my head is hurting too much. It feels as if my brain has been through a blender. I can hardly think, let alone concentrate on using my power.

I rub my aching temples. The pain is getting worse instead of better, which isn’t a good sign.

Sandy observes me with a pinched brow. “You don’t look good.”

My chuckle is wry. “One of you don’t happen to have painkillers, do you?”

I try to keep a sense of humor, but if moving hurts, laughing is pure torture.

She sighs. “Medicine is a luxury the slavers never allow. I don’t even think they know the concept.”

In that case, I may end up dead after all. Unless I make it back to Earth in time.

Sandy studies me with a curious light burning in her blue eyes. “What happened at the beach? What did that Alit want with you? He looked downright scary.”

“This is going to sound weird.”

Sandy chuckles. “Believe me, hun, nothing can sound weird to me anymore.”

Point taken. “He’s an Alit prince, and he thought I was his mate.”

I expect them to burst out laughing, but they only stare at me with owl-sized eyes.