That night I’d heard loud voices in argument. I’d heard the screams of the girls as Leethu fixed them. She hadn’t come to me. She would have known I had been already healed even if the guards hadn’t told her, and it was better if we kept some distance between the both of us right now. The guards knew she had something to do with our escape attempt, and they’d quickly notice whatever the succubus and I had going on between us and use it for leverage against her. I slept fitfully, hearing every step, every clink of a beer bottle discarded through the door. I assumed it was morning when they came for me, leaving my hands tied as they escorted me back into the room with the others. My entrance was greeted with relieved smiles, but we had little to celebrate. Today was the sale.

One at a time we showered, one of the guards watching and “helping” while the other stood guard. Clean, we sat on the edge of our individual cots and waited. Leethu was out in the warehouse, and from the voices and sounds of metal chairs being unloaded and set up, she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t just about escaping two guards now, one with a gun. Were there two, three more out there? Our chances were slipping away, approaching slim to none.

Leethu slid into the room, her eyes briefly meeting mine before edging away. “The boss has arrived.”

Pockmarks tensed, holstering the pistol and folding his arms across his chest, a studied expression of cool disinterest settling on his face. I bit back a smile. He would have seemed weak, needing a gun to hold a bunch of girls at bay. Catcalls made no attempt to hide his unease, swiping a hand across his forehead and shifting from foot to foot, the pole clasped tightly in his other hand.

They moved respectfully aside as the boss walked into our room. He was older than I’d expected—a man in his sixties with slicked-back silver hair and a wispy mustache. He was tan with lighter circles of skin around his eyes from sunglasses. A tan from the golf course? No, he looked more like the yacht type, with his open-collar button-down shirt and an expensive suit tailored for his fleshy body. He was clearly a man who liked to indulge—a man who wouldn’t allow anyone to get in the way of what he wanted, whether that was a snifter of brandy or an empire of wealth built on human sex trafficking.

“Line up,” Pockmarks ordered.

We stood and did as he said, partly because we were thrown off balance by the appearance of this new man in our room, and partly because the new man had a pistol in a shoulder holster clearly visible under his open suit jacket. I doubted he’d shoot us, not with the sale today, but I was pretty sure if any of us so much as sneezed, Catcalls wouldn’t hesitate to hit us with the pole. Neither of the guards would want to appear weak or lacking in control in front of this guy, especially when he was about to realize he was missing some of his merchandise.

“Strip,” Pockmarks ordered. We complied, and stood while the boss eyed us dispassionately.

“Leethu, do your thing,” the boss commanded.

Suddenly the room was thick with sexual energy. Our pupils dilated, breath coming short and shallow. Every girl in the room felt like they were on the edge of an orgasm. The guards weren’t unaffected either.

“Enough.”

The atmosphere fell with the word and we all gasped. So that’s what Leethu was to do at the auction. We’d be turned on, climax hovering teasingly just out of reach. And the clients would feel it too, wanting us and paying more than they probably would have under normal conditions. We’d all be drunk on sexual energy, to maximize profits.

“A nice batch,” the boss commented. “Have King get more young girls next time. Ten to fourteen years old. That one has racked up some serious online bids already. Eight her age or a little younger. We can do a specialized sale.”

“Will do boss,” Pockmarks agreed quickly.

He moved down the line. “I like the Russian girl. Nice. Very nice. This Mexican girl has a great ass.” He jabbed a finger at Baa. “And this one’s a pretty blonde, although she looks a bit used up. No more hookers or junkies, okay? They’re just not worth as much.”

“Got it,” Pockmarks replied.

“This…” He paused and stared at me. “Why is her hair that color? Her skin is amazing. It’s like alabaster, but that hair is very unnatural.”

“It wouldn’t take the dye,” Leethu explained. “We tried three different boxes, and they just washed right off.”

“And you didn’t think to use your demon abilities?” The boss’s voice held a recrimination. “You can enhance breasts, but you can’t change someone’s hair color?”

“I tried, but I wasn’t able to do so.”

There was a staring match between the demon and the boss. “And why was that?” he finally asked.

Leethu shifted ever so slightly. “I believe she may have a tiny bit of demon in her background. Possibly a few generations ago.”

“I see.” He moved on down the line, then paused. “Didn’t we have an Asian girl? And a black girl? King was bragging about the diversity of this bunch. I think I remember him saying something about a Russian, two Mexicans, an Asian, and a black girl.”

I felt the tension in the room. Catcalls swiped his brow again. Leethu bit her lip, the eyes briefly meeting mine full of amusement.

“No, these are the only girls we have,” Catcalls said, sweat dripping down his face.

“Leethu?” The boss turned to look at the succubus.

“There were nine. King sent us an extra this time. These girls are a feisty bunch and there were several escape attempts. The black girl died. The Asian girl escaped.”

The air was so thick that I struggled to drag air into my lungs.

“The Asian girl escaped,” the boss commented, his tone indicating nothing beyond mild curiosity. It frightened me more than any overt anger could.

“I had her behind a locked door,” Pockmarks explained. “You told us we were allowed to sample. I didn’t harm the merchandise. I left her behind a locked door with no windows, no means of escape. She was gone when I returned.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” The boss made a clucking noise with his tongue and shook his head.

“It was yesterday. She doesn’t speak any English. No one is going to understand her. We’ll move locations for the next sale.” Pockmarks remained calm and collected, but I saw the edge of his eye twitch.

“Her value will be deducted from your take,” the boss told him. “What happened to the black girl? I liked her picture. She was generating a lot interest online.”

“She was punished.” The look Pockmarks gave Catcalls was pure calculation. The boss followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“The bitch hit me with a toilet lid,” the guard explained. “Knocked me out and damned near escaped. I taught her a lesson. Not my fault if the demon refused to heal her.”

I held my breath, praying that Leethu wouldn’t take the blame for honoring my, and Deena’s, decision.

“Isn’t this the second girl that has died from your overzealous punishment?” the boss asked Catcalls.

The man looked as if he’d suddenly been turned to stone. “The first. I just got carried a bit away. This one, she deserved the beating. She hit me, could have killed me. And the demon should have fixed her. She refused to do it. She’s trying to set me up—set both of us up. She helped the Chinese girl to get away. She’s been helping them in their attempts to escape. She’s refused to follow orders. We told her to heal the black girl, and she didn’t.”

The boss turned to her, waiting.

“She was beaten to death,” the demon calmly explained. “Even if I had been able to fix her injuries, she would have died within a few days. They took the discipline too far. There is a limit to my abilities when it comes to repairing human injuries. As for the others, you know I am forbidden by my summoning contract to help any of these girls escape.”

“The demon refused to fix the black girl and she died,” Catcalls protested. “She didn’t even try.”

“I did all I could,” Leethu lied. “I’ve repeatedly told them that I can only make cosmetic adjustments, repair minor broken bones, bruises, and abrasions. Internal bleeding, ruptured spleen, punctured lungs, perforated bowel, and swelling of the brain are beyond my skills.”

“There seems to be a lot of things you can’t do lately,” the boss commented. “Hair color. Fixing the injuries of one of our product.”

The demon didn’t even flinch as she met his eyes with a steady gaze. “When you summon a succubus, you get a sex demon. If you want someone to heal mortal wounds, I’d suggest next time you call upon an angel.”

I held my breath, worried she’d taken it too far. There was a moment of silence, then the boss chuckled. “True. So very true. I’ve no desire to summon an angel, though. In the future, my staff will just need to ensure they don’t beat the merchandise to death. What do you imagine the worth of that dead girl to be?”

Catcalls relaxed. “Three grand maybe. She was one of the hookers, and older. She wouldn’t get as much as the kid or the others.”

“Still, she was very pretty from the picture.” The boss shook his head, the corners of his mouth curving downward. “She had a very exotic look about her. I’m thinking she might have brought closer to six.”

Catcalls swallowed hard. “Then take six out of my take for the sale. If that’s more than my share, I’ll pay the difference.”

The boss smiled and nodded, the tension in the room dropping noticeably. “I appreciate your willingness to make financial restitution.”

Then with a smooth motion, so fast that no one had time to react, he pulled the pistol from its holster and shot Catcalls in the chest. The man crumpled to his knees, hands pressing against the wound as blood poured between his fingers.

“Two girls have died because you don’t know when enough is enough,” the boss told him. “Two. I’m tired of losing valuable merchandise due to your inability to control yourself. It’s embarrassing to tell clients that an advertised product has been pulled from the sale. It makes them think we’re doing deals on the side, that we don’t value their patronage. I’m tired of making excuses.”

“I’m sorry.” Blood bubbled from Catcall’s mouth. “I won’t do it again.”

“No you won’t.” And with that, the boss pressed the barrel of the gun to the guard’s forehead and pulled the trigger. My stomach lurched as blood, bone, and brain matter splattered across the wall and onto the baseboard. I glanced at the others and saw that while Pockmarks had paled significantly, Leethu appeared disinterested. No doubt she’d seen worse in Hel. No doubt she’d done worse.

“I’ll send two other men to work with you for the next sale,” the boss told Pockmarks. “I trust there will be no more escaped or dead merchandise?”

“No, sir,” Pockmarks replied, his voice hitching on the last word. “No further issues.”

“Good.” The boss looked down at Catcall’s body. “Take care of this. Stuff it in a back room or something. Make sure there is no blood or anything to alarm our more delicate clients.” Then he turned to Leethu. “Prepare the girls. Auction begins in one hour.”

* * *

“Are you in trouble?” I whispered to Leethu once the men had left.

She shrugged. “Probably. I won’t have as much freedom as before. He’ll keep me contained and only let me out to accomplish specific tasks for him. It was worth it, though. I only wish I could have freed more of you.” Her eyes met mine, her palm rising to cup my cheek. “I wish I could have freed you.”

“I’m not giving up.” I leaned into her hand. “No matter what happens, as long as I’m alive, I won’t give up. I’ll save these girls, and I’ll save you too.”

Her smile was sad, indulgent, as if I were a naive child to be humored. “I know you won’t give up. Just promise me you’ll keep yourself safe.”

“Is there anything you can do to help us?” Pistol asked. “Cause a distraction? Rain down a plague of locusts? Throw a burning bush into the mix?”

Leethu shook her head. “There was some leeway before, but with the boss here…he will keep a tight leash on me. He knows magic. He has amulets and spells to instantly negate pretty much anything I could do.”

The girls gathered close around us. “Will they chain us for the auction?” Sugar rubbed her wrists. “Maybe we can make a break for it.”

“Seven against what are probably twenty guys?” Pillow’s eyes widened. “And they have guns. They’ll just shoot us.”

“They will only shoot you as a last resort,” Leethu told her. “But if you try to run, they’ll catch you and tie you up, and laugh while they’re doing it. A girl who tries to break and run is seen as a little bit of sport. It’s fun for them. It livens things up a little.”

“But there are seven of us,” Pistol insisted. “Maybe if four of us cause enough of a commotion, the other three can sneak away.”

“There is no way you can sneak away,” Leethu said. “There will be guards at the exits and outside, and no amount of commotion is going to be enough for you to escape. Your best opportunity will be after the sale, when you are being transported by your buyer.”

“But we’ll be alone then,” Kitten’s voice shook. “I’ll be alone in the back of a truck or van. How am I supposed to get away?”

“Wait until they stop for gas, and make a commotion,” Pistol suggested. “Or tell them you need to go pee, then climb through the bathroom window. Anything. If there’s an opportunity, take it. Don’t be scared.”

“Yeah, ’cause that worked so well for you and Tasha last time,” Sugar drawled.

“It’s better than just sitting around and being a slave for the rest of our lives,” Pistol shot back.

“Hey.” I stopped the argument with a wave of my hand. “Stop. We’re a family. We might be separated after today, but we’re still a family. Remember that. You’re never alone. Never. Be strong. Escape if you can. Survive. We’ll get out of this somehow. It’s not going to end this way. It’s not.”

“That’s a lot of feel-good woo-woo there, Red,” Sugar scoffed. “I’ll survive, because that’s the one thing I’m good at, but we’re gonna be on our own from here on out. This family thing was nice, but it’s over. There’s no more family. There’s no miracle. It’s every girl for herself.”

Just like it was before. I looked around at my girls and felt my heart break. I’d fight. I’d do all I could to my dying breath to save them, but Sugar was right. There was no miracle. I needed every one of them to think for themselves.

“Survive.” I tried to brand the word into their minds. “Survive and never give up hope.”

Leethu sighed. “And perhaps pray that Miller does not buy any of you. Your chances of survival will be greater if you are purchased by another client.”

I shivered, remembering the mention of this Miller before.

“He’s some kind of serial killer?” Pillow caught her breath. “He kills the girls he buys? That’s why he’s at every auction?”

“Not every auction,” Leethu said. “But he is our most revered client. He doesn’t often buy the highest priced girl, but he’s a regular customer and occasionally he will buy two. Many of the clients are one-time only. Those are the ones you want. They are willing to pay a lot for the girl they choose. I think those girls stay alive and become personal slaves. Others run high-priced prostitution rings. They don’t like to spend a lot of money, but sometimes buy several girls.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Sugar commented. “No different than what I was doing out on the street. And if they’re charging a lot, they’re probably treating their girls better.”

“No,” Leethu’s mouth set into a grim line. “The rings cater to those with unusual tastes. I think those girls live longer than the ones sold to Miller and clients like him, but they do die.”

“So, personal slave.” Pistol took a deep breath. “How do we identify those buyers, and how do we appeal to them?”

It made me sick to think my girls had been reduced to this.

“I can help with that,” Leethu told her. “I’ll concentrate my energy on those buyers who I believe might be looking for a personal slave. They’ll want you. They’ll be eager to pay more than they originally wanted. Hopefully they will outbid the others. There are no guarantees though. I don’t know the clients personally, and I’m not given access to their information. What I think is a safe buyer may be a killer attending for the first time.”

Pistol nodded. “Thank you. It’s better than nothing. I’ll take my chances and just hope I don’t get some Dahmer dude.”

The demon turned to each of the girls in turn going down the line and placing a kiss on their foreheads, muttering words in a strange language. Each girl shimmered with a glow, a glamour that drew the eye and quickened the pulse. When she was finished, she came to me.

“Do I get a kiss too?” I teased her, not wanting whatever we had to end on such a desolate note.

Her hands cupped my cheeks. “You don’t need my glamour, Red Bird. Your beauty needs no enhancement.” Something sparked in her dark eyes. “But I will still kiss you.”

Her lips met mine—soft, sweet, and full of desperation. When she broke the kiss and stepped back, I saw there were tears in her eyes. “Good luck to all of you.”

She turned and fled the room, closing the door behind her. I knew without even trying that it was no longer unlocked on the inside. This wasn’t a good time for escape. Later perhaps. Later when we were alone and afraid, without each other’s support.

My family was about to be fractured. And something deep down inside told me this wasn’t the first time I’d experienced such a tragedy as this.