“Well, well—so the prodigal returns.” Father Caleb steepled his wrinkled, liver-spotted hands under his jowly chin and regarded Sarah with interest. He could look charming to the world when he wanted to but when he was at rest in his own office, he looked like a big old lizard sunning himself on a rock—at least to Sarah.
“Not by choice.” She glared back, heedless of the way Charlie and Amos, standing on either side of The Prophet’s plush leather office chair, were smirking at her.
“You look a little worse for the wear, my dear. If you don’t mind me saying so,” Father Caleb remarked.
Sarah was a disheveled mess and she knew it. After bringing her back to the Compound in the trunk of their car, Amos and Charlie had locked her in a small storage closet and left her there for the rest of the night. She’d been allowed out exactly once to use the bathroom and that was only after she banged on the door and threatened to go right in the closet if they didn’t give her a break.
She was still wearing her jeans and the red sweater and the Alquon nipple jewelry under it. Her nipples felt sore and chafed but though she’d attempted to take off the jewelry herself—what else was she going to do while locked in a closet for hours and hours?—she hadn’t been successful. The gold and diamond nipple bands weren’t budging for anyone but Sazar.
And he’s probably up on the Mother Ship enjoying his life and trying to forget me, she thought bitterly. There was no use hoping that the big Kindred would come riding to her rescue. She was on her own here—which was a very bad place to be.
“Father Caleb,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and even. “Please just let me go. I didn’t join The Brotherhood of Peace by choice—my mother brought me when I was twelve and I’ve never felt like I belonged.”
“But you do belong, Sarah—you belong to me.” He smiled at her, a warm, charming, televangelist’s smile showing whiter-than-white teeth, but there was steel underneath it, like a bear trap waiting to snap shut.
“You can’t own another person!” Sarah protested.
“A mere mortal cannot, perhaps. But I am The Prophet!” He rose from behind his desk, spreading his hands and displaying his immaculate white suit.
Dressed all in white and full of himself, just like The Lord Magnate, Sarah thought and choked back a hysterical laugh.
“Praise be!” Amos and Charlie said together and Amos added, “He is the Prophet—he shall purify!”
“Please, just let me go.” Sarah’s voice was shaking now, though she tried to hold it steady. “I swear I won’t say anything bad about The Brotherhood! I just want to go live my own life.”
“But it appears to me you’ve already started living your own life, my dear.” Father Caleb came to stand in front of her. “For instance…what is going on here?” He nodded at her prominent nipples and Sarah felt her stomach do a slow flip.
“We don’t know what’s going on with her, Father Caleb,” Charlie volunteered. “She was like that yesterday when we found her.”
“But we didn’t touch her,” Amos said quickly. “We left her alone, just like you said.”
“That’s very good.” Father Caleb nodded. “But now I want to see what’s going on with my sweet little Sarah. Charlie, come and lift her top.”
“No!” Sarah took a step back but before she knew it, Amos was behind her, holding her arms behind her back and Charlie was lifting the hem of her red sweater. She struggled uselessly but the gold and diamond nipple bands and the golden breast chain with its diamond charms was quickly revealed.
“Well!” Father Caleb’s pouchy eyes grew wide. “What have we here? You have been living a separate life—far from the upright and moral one you were trained to.” He frowned warningly at Sarah. “Is this some kind of Kindred thing? I know you got a job with those Godless alien heathens. ”
“No, it’s not,” Sarah said defiantly. “It was a gift from a friend on Alquon Ultrea.”
“Where?” Amos demanded, shaking her so that her breasts jiggled.
“A planet I visited when…when I worked for the Kindred.” Sarah wished her eyes wouldn’t fill up with tears. But she couldn’t help wishing Sazar was here now—even though she was mad at him, the memories of everything they’d been through together made her long for the big Kindred horribly.
“What kind of planet was that—a whore planet?” Charlie demanded and he and Amos laughed uproariously.
“Never seen anything like it. Look how big her tits are! How come we never noticed it before?” Amos marveled.
“Probably because she was always hiding behind those little glasses of hers and pretending to be all shy and quiet. Guess she’s not so shy now.”
Amos shook her again, making her full breasts wobble. The float dots were still in place beneath them, causing her full mounds to stand up pertly, putting on even more of a show.
Sarah was flooded with shame and anger as the three men stared at her bare chest. Even on Alquon, walking around topless, she hadn’t felt so vulnerable…so helpless. Probably because on the alien world, she wasn’t the only woman who was topless and also, she’d been certain that Sazar would protect her if anyone tried anything.
She had no such protection now.
“You should take that stuff off her, Father Caleb,” Charlie remarked. “Bet it’s worth a fortune.”
“I’m sure it is.” The Prophet eyed her speculatively. “But as sinful as the jewelry is, it’s also rather lovely, don’t you think?”
He reached out his liver-spotted hand and circled one banded nipple with a wrinkled finger.
At the feel of his hand on her, a wave of revulsion rolled over Sarah, so strong it made her nauseous.
“Don’t touch me! Don’t you touch me you son of a bitch!” she screamed, thrashing in Amos's grip.
Father Caleb backhanded her, hard across the face. The heavy golden ring he wore on his right hand—a symbol of his divine priesthood—cut Sarah’s cheek and her ears were ringing. Pain sang through her and the tears that had threatened earlier overflowed and spilled down her cheeks.
“You bastard,” she whispered. "I hate you. I've always hated you!"
“Watch that language, my dear—unless you want another,” Father Caleb murmured.
“You better shut up and show respect to The Prophet,” Amos snarled in her ear, shaking her again.
“That’s right—keep it shut,” Charlie echoed.
“Wise advice, Charlie…Amos. Our Sarah would do well to listen to it.” Father Caleb smiled at her—an ugly, greedy smirk, much different from his radiant televangelist smile.
“Just leave me alone! Just don’t touch me.” Her voice came out in a dry croak.
“I touch what’s mine whenever I want to, Sarah. You should know that by now.” Casually, he straightened his immaculate white cuffs and used a fresh linen handkerchief to rub away the traces of her blood on his ring.
“I’m not yours. I’ll never be yours.” But the defiant words came out in a whisper. Her cheek was already swelling and she could feel blood running down her chin.
Father Caleb walked back behind the desk without even bothering to answer her.
“Now let’s see—what else did you bring away from this Godless planet you visited?” he mused. “Bring it here, Charlie—let’s see it.”
“I think it’s some kinda suit case.” Charlie lifted her pink carry-all cube and placed it squarely on Father Caleb’s solid mahogany desk.
“Open it.” Father Caleb gestured impatiently and Charlie hastened to comply, unsnapping the silver latches and spreading the cube, which unfolded in six parts, open on the desk.
“Well, well—just look at all these sinful, worldy clothes you got for yourself in your ‘new life’,” Father Caleb remarked, picking through the modest shirts and jeans and business suits gingerly, as though they were piles of crotchless bikini panties and stripper gear. “And what is this?” he added.
He lifted something out of the suitcase—a chample, Sarah saw. She’d packed a few in her carry-all, mostly because she’d been throwing everything she could reach into it in their hurry to get off Alquon Ultrea.
“Tell The Prophet what it is!” Amos demanded, shaking her until her breasts jiggled again. Sarah could feel his greedy eyes on her every time he did it—it made her sick.
“Looks like some kinda kid’s blocks,” Charlie offered, squinting at the brightly colored cubes scattered through the case.
“No it’s not—it’s a fruit,” Sarah said unwillingly. She didn’t want to tell them anything but she knew they wouldn’t let up until she did.
“A fruit, huh?” Amos remarked. “What, like a square alien apple?”
“More like the forbidden fruit, right?” Charlie laughed hoarsely. “Like little Sarah herself. Can’t touch her—not yet, anyway.” His piggy little eyes crawled over her bare breasts, making Sarah want to spit in his face.
“That’s right—she is forbidden,” Father Caleb said. “Your turn will come, Charlie…Amos. But first this little one’s virginity is mine.”
Sarah felt another surge of fear. What would happen when The Prophet found out someone else had already taken what he wanted? And he would—there was no way around it. The Alquon stay-tight was still inside her, holding Sazar’s seed in her pussy. Though it was only supposed to stay in for twenty-four hours, it showed no signs of dissolving yet. She had to buy herself some time—but how?
The chample in the Prophet’s hand gave her an idea.
“Those fruits,” she said. “Be careful with them—they’re delicacies. Nobody but The Lord Magnate—the ruler of Alquon Ultrea—was allowed to eat them. They grew them specially, just for him.”
“Is that right?” Father Caleb examined the brightly colored champles in her suitcase with considerably more interest. Sarah knew he liked to have things that were exclusive to his use alone.
“They have different flavors and textures,” she continued. “That yellow one kind of tastes like lemonade and grape popsicles and the red one with green and yellow spots tastes like a cheeseburger.”
“Like a cheeseburger? What do aliens know about cheeseburgers?” Charlie demanded. “You’re lying!”
Sarah shrugged. “They don’t know anything about them. That’s just what I thought they tasted like.”
Father Caleb looked at her suspiciously. “I thought you said only the ruler was allowed to eat them.”
“He let me have some. I was an honored guest—an assistant to the Kindred diplomat.” Sarah raised her head proudly as she spoke. The men in this room didn’t need to know how her time with Sazar had ended. For all they knew, she had been treated like a queen on Alquon Ultrea.
“I don’t believe a word of it.” But Father Caleb was fingering the champles as he spoke, lifting them up and sniffing them with considerable interest. Sarah was certain he was going to try each and every one of them as soon as he was alone.
“It’s true,” she said and added, in an off-hand manner. “The brown ones taste like chocolate cream pie. I thought so, anyway.”
“Chocolate pie?” Father Caleb’s eyes filled with a greedy light. “You don’t say.”
“That’s what it tasted like to me,” Sarah said, shrugging again.
Of course she had never tasted the brown chample at all since Dod had warned them that it was strictly for medicinal uses. She remembered her thought that it might have the same properties as prune juice or laxatives and hoped fervently that she had been right.
She also hoped Father Caleb would take the bait. He had a sweet tooth which kept the sisters who ran the kitchens constantly baking. Of course, none of the women in the Compound were supposed to eat any of the sweets themselves—that might make them unsightly and fat. But The Prophet had whatever he liked whenever he liked and one of his favorite treats was chocolate cream pie.
“Well, we’ll see about all this at the proper time.” Father Caleb put down the brown chample but she noticed that he kept one hand on it possessively. “For now, I’m sending you to the women’s quarters in the Compound to be dressed for our ceremony.”
“What—now?” Sarah’s voice came out in a panicked squeak.
“Yes, now.” Father Caleb frowned at her. “You’ve been wandering far, my little lost lamb. It’s time I brought you back into the flock. And after seeing your, ah, new jewelry, let us just say I’m quite eager to make you a Bride of the Prophet.” His eyes flickered over her breasts again and Sarah thought she might throw up.
“No,” she said, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. “No—don’t do this. I don’t belong here!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear—the Compound has been your home since the tender age of twelve. Where else would you belong?” He made a motion to Amos and Charlie. “Take her to the women’s quarters and have her cleaned up and properly arrayed.”
“What about the nipple stuff?” Charlie asked. “Should we have her take it off?”
“No…” Father Caleb said thoughtfully. “No, I think we’ll leave it on. At least until I’m finished making her my bride.”
“You mean raping me,” Sarah said in a low voice. “That’s what you do here—you rape young girls. You can dress it up however you want to with holy names but that’s all it is—just rape.”
“Shut your mouth, you little whore!” Amos snapped, shaking her until her teeth clicked together. “You ought to be grateful The Prophet will still touch you after you went out and acted like a slut!”
“Yeah, shut it,” Charlie shouted, poking a finger in her face.
But the Prophet’s expression remained serene.
“Well now, I think Sarah is simply confused,” he remarked. “She doesn’t understand how holy the act of submitting herself to The Prophet can be.”
“All I know is I want her for a second wife when you’re done with her, Father Caleb,” Charlie said. “I’ll teach her some manners.”
“No, I want her for my third wife,” Amos protested. “Who knew she was hiding such big ripe titties? I should get her—I grabbed her first.”
“Peace, my sons.” Father Caleb raised his hands to quiet them. “What I’m thinking is, why should little Sarah here be a second or third wife to anyone? At least, not for a while. After I’m finished making her my bride, she can play the roll of concubine for a time. That way, both of you can have a turn.”
“What? No!” Sarah gasped. “No, please.”
“I’m sorry, my dear but you have no one but yourself to blame.” Father Caleb’s smile curled up cruelly. “You cannot expect to go around dressed like the whore of Babylon without inciting the lustful urges of the men around you. And for that, you must be punished. In fact…I think it will be good if every one of the Controllers has a turn. Spread the word, Amos, Charlie. It can be an early Christmas gift.”
Sarah’s mouth was too dry to talk and her legs felt like water. There were ten men among the Controllers the last time she’d counted. Was Father Caleb really going to give her to all of them?
I’d rather die, she thought, her stomach rolling. Rather die than let that happen!
“Please,” she managed to gasp out but Father Caleb only smiled.
“Next time think a little before you decide to rebel, Sarah,” he remarked. “Now take her away and get her ready for me.” He made an imperious motion with one liver-spotted hand and Amos and Charlie dragged her out of his office and back towards the Compound.
As she was dragged, stumbling between them, Sarah suddenly thought of the warm, feminine voice that had come to her when she and Sazar stood before the Lord Magnate who had wanted pretty much exactly what Father Caleb wanted.
Had it been the Kindred Goddess? Kat and her friends certainly seemed to believe in her. Sarah didn’t care who it had been—she only knew she needed help from anywhere she could get it.
Oh please, she thought, praying as she had when she was on Alquon Ultrea. Please whoever you are, help me now! I’m in so much trouble. Please help me!
But she heard no answer.
* * * * *
“She’s not at the shelter or any other shelter in the Tampa Bay area.” Sazar hung up the phone in frustration. “And no one at the HKR building has seen her since she left yesterday afternoon.”
“What do you want to do?” Sylvan spread his hands. He looked somewhat rumpled from being dragged out of bed an hour earlier than usual but he was willing to listen and help, which Sazar was grateful for.
“I don’t know.” Sazar ran a hand through his hair. “But I have to do something. I have to find her!”
“Are you certain your son didn’t just have a nightmare?” Sylvan asked gently.
“He described what she was wearing and the carry-all cube she was carrying. And…” Sazar cleared his throat. “He said…the Goddess had sent her to us.”
“Ahh…” Sylvan looked thoughtful. “The Goddess is often close to children. Their innocence allows them to hear her more clearly than we can sometimes.”
“If she’s not in a shelter, she’s probably being held by The Brotherhood of Peace.” Sazar clenched his fists in frustration. “I know where their business headquarters is but I don’t know about the Compound where they live. And I’m afraid if I go sniffing around there, they’ll know something is up and move Sarah someplace else.”
“We can get the local police force involved,” Sylvan offered. “In fact, I think it would be a good idea, especially in light of some of the things apparently going on there.”
“You call them,” Sazar said. “I’m going to go down to Tampa and see if I can pick up a Blood Trail.”
“You think you can do that?” Sylvan looked at him, obviously surprised. “I know Pitch-Bloods have a special ability to track their mates through the blood they’ve taken from them but you and Sarah aren’t even bonded.”
“I know, Goddess damn it! Now I wish I had bonded her to me.” Sazar sighed. “But it’s all I can think to do. Maybe the Goddess will be kind and allow me to find her.”
“Let me know if you do,” Sylvan said. “I’m going to speak to the human police and see what I can get from them.”
“Agreed.” Sazar nodded and the two males went their separate ways. But though hunting around Tampa was better than nothing, he still felt deeply uneasy. He kept hearing Tsandor’s words echoing in his head.
“They’re about to do bad things to her, Patro—hurry!”
He had to find her—fast.
Please Goddess, he prayed as he piloted his ship down to Earth. Please let me find Sarah before it’s too late! Even if she hates me now, let me save her.