A soft, muffled cry stirred Chloe Anderson from a dreamless fog, slowly yet painfully bringing her back to consciousness. Groaning, she felt herself lying on a cold, hard surface that vibrated underneath her. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to be met by darkness. Inhaling sharply, she felt a coarse, scratchy fabric stifling her mouth, and with a stifled gasp, she spat it out. It immediately sank in that her head was wrapped in a thick burlap sack. When she attempted to sit up, she felt ropes digging into her wrists; her legs were similarly bound.
Panic began to set in as she recalled what had happened to her. An attractive older man had approached her in a club, bought her shots despite her being only seventeen, and gushed about how outstanding she would be as a model. The club's blaring music, his attention, and the liquor did the trick; she'd fallen into his trap, as it was obvious now that he'd spiked her drinks. Panic gave way to anger—anger at herself for being foolish. She knew better, or she should have.
Cursing herself, she tried to figure out where she was. A soft rocking and swaying sensation indicated she was inside a moving vehicle, and the sounds of crying revealed she wasn't alone. From the whimpers, it was clear that they were all girls of various ages. Struggling against the ropes, she fought to sit upright against the side of the van. Suddenly, it made a sharp turn, and she was thrown sideways, bumping into one of the other girls.
"Hey!" a frightened voice snapped at her.
"Sorry!" Chloe apologized. "Are you okay?"
"No!" the girl shot back. "Where are we? What's happening?"
Another girl's voice echoed from the corner, "What are they going to do with us?"
Chloe chose not to respond, determined not to frighten them further. She didn't want to share the stories she'd heard, but she knew they were in great danger. She swore to herself that if she got out of this alive, she'd never go to another club for as long as she lived.
The air was filled with a mix of soft, worried chatter and sniffling for the next few minutes until they felt the van slow down and come to a stop. Almost in unison, everyone fell silent. Holding their breaths, they listened to the movement outside, then screamed as the doors at the back of the van were flung open. The heavy thud of thick boots from multiple figures echoed as they stepped in, causing the van to creak under the new weight while rough, cruel hands grabbed Chloe and violently pulled her up and over someone's broad shoulders.
She could hear the other girls struggling, with one pleading frantically to be let go. A sharp shriek of agony, followed by a thud, told Chloe that the girl had been punched in the gut. Now, all she heard was labored breathing and soft whimpers from the others. She went limp to avoid the same fate and felt herself carried up metal steps as her captor's boots clanged against them. After what seemed like forever, she was tossed onto a dirty mattress, and her leg bindings were cut. The sack on her head was ripped away, and she blinked harshly against the dim flickering light illuminating from a single overhead work bay light.
As her vision returned, she looked around and saw the other four girls seated similarly, their leg bindings severed. Six men of various sizes, shapes, and ethnicities stood in a half circle behind them, semi-automatic weapons at the ready and blank expressions on their stoic faces. Chloe gulped, attempting to calm her breathing as one of the men lifted his gun and aimed it at her.
"Stand! Now. All of you."
Pulling her medium-length brown hair behind her so she could see better, Chloe complied, forcing herself to her feet, only to trip over the mattress.
A strong hand grabbed her shoulder to steady her forcefully. "Don't fucking move, bitch!"
The other girls lined up beside her, and she took her first glance at each one. She could tell that none of them appeared to be over eighteen, and that she was the oldest, with the youngest likely thirteen at the most.
A groan from an old door signaled the entrance of a tall, slender African American man. He wore a maroon shirt beneath a black silk coat with textured slacks, and a black top hat adorned with a blood-red band. His shin-high boots had slightly undone laces, and he carried a cane topped with a carved, severed goat head. Around his neck hung a black-beaded necklace featuring a skull pierced by a dagger.
He stopped in front of the girls, eyeing them all in turn. "Ah, our new arrivals, at last." His voice was almost melodious yet tinged with a hint of vileness. "Welcome! Welcome!" He looked at each of them and continued, "My name is Samedi, and I will be your host for the next few days while we await the arrival of the rest of your friends."
Chloe cringed as one girl spoke up, "What are you going to do with us?"
Samedi offered the girl a broad smile filled with crooked, stained, and various broken teeth, though his eyes remained cold at the interruption. "You will be delivered to various clients of my boss, for whatever they might desire from you. You should view it as an honor. Some of you may even have the chance to live full, rich lives with your new owners."
He explained this as he stepped closer to the girl and lifted her chin to meet his gaze; his fingernails were long and sharp, and he nicked the girl's jaw as he held her for inspection. "But for that to happen, you will never speak up against me again, bitch!"
Shocking the girls, Samedi struck the girl across the face, sending her barreling onto the mattress as she screamed in fear and pain. He glared at her and signaled one of the guards, "Get her in line!"
Ripping the girl to her feet, the guard shoved her back into place. Her face streamed with tears, but wisely, she kept her mouth shut tight.
Samedi spun around again. The facade of his smile dropped. "Now listen up! You will be confined and given just enough to survive. Forget all hope, for no one will find you, and you belong to Bible now."
Turning to walk to the far end of the line of girls opposite Chloe, Samedi continued, "Bible is your God, the Word, and you will obey him. He will be selling you off to bidders to be their little toys, for whatever pleasures they wish to bestow upon your lovely little bodies."
He walked slowly, sizing each tearful girl up one by one. "The lives you knew are over. Accept it, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be the pet of someone who values your life. Not all of you will; some of you will be used and discarded. A shame, really, as you are lovely specimens."
He reached Chloe and looked her up and down. "What's your name, child?"
Avoiding his gaze, she whispered, "Chloe."
"A pretty name," Samedi's compliment was chilling.
Slowly, he walked behind her, and she felt his fingernails graze against her neck. His touch sent shivers racing along her skin in disgust, and a tear slipped from her eye.
"But I warn all of you: do not try to escape. There is nowhere for you to run, and I will show no mercy to any of you. Your beauty means nothing to me." Samedi's tone darkened. "Do you all understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Chloe stammered, echoing the collective murmur of agreement from the other girls.
He smiled cruelly, "Good girls. However, to ensure you understand me, Chloe here will be my example."
"Huh?" Chloe asked. Then she heard the other children gasp and saw one turn her head sharply away. What happened? she wondered. And why does my neck feel so wet?
Confused, Chloe began to sense her mouth filling with liquid, accompanied by the bitter taste of copper. Reaching up to touch her throat, her fingers probed mangled flesh, and the touch brought with it searing pain. Choking and coughing up blood, she collapsed to her knees. A brief thought of punishment for falling crossed her mind, but panic quickly pushed it away as painful gagging consumed her, causing her vision to blur while the light above dimmed.
Only then did she realize that Samedi had slit her throat wide open with his blade-like nails. Fear, pain, and hopelessness filled her soul as her blood and life spilled from her body until the darkness came forth to collect her, swallowing her light for the last time.
As the girl's body spasmed, Samedi sucked the finger he'd used to slice the girl's throat, enjoying the taste of fresh blood while listening to the cries from the other girls.
Gorging on the feast of their terror, he looked their way with a sadistic smile. Lifting his necklace and fondling the skull, he uttered some words in a language the girls could not understand. Seconds passed before Chloe's prone body began to sizzle, with blisters and boils popping up in clusters all along her extremities and face.
The girls watched in stunned, disbelieving silence as the girl they had barely begun to know was cooked before them in an unseen magic fire.
When the smell of burnt flesh wafted up and filled the room, he stopped chanting and looked to the girls, "Now I know you understand. Obey me, and you will be spared her fate."
Motioning to the guards to take the girls to the holding area, Samedi stood silently as they were ushered out. Once the room was clear, he pulled a small tablet from his pocket. With a couple of clicks of his nails, he called up a video chat and waited for the other party to respond.
A moment later, a bright light surrounded a prominent, muscular figure on the screen. Even as the light obscured his image, Samedi could tell he was chewing a cigar as usual, which identified the figure as his boss, Bible.
"Report." Bible's voice, thick and gravelly, was clipped with authority.
"The second shipment of girls arrived, adding four more to a total of eleven on premises, with a third shipment of three due in two days."
"Four? I was informed five were to be delivered tonight."
"I made an example," Samedi said plainly, with no tone of remorse.
"Fucking Christ, Samedi! I had buyers lined up for all of them!" He growled, "Your blood lust just cost me five million dollars!"
"Fear is priceless. We're located in a very busy area. I will not risk discovery. They will behave now and spread the word about what they saw tonight."
"They'd better." The cigar's tip brightened as Bible pulled from it: "I want that final shipment in on time. The barge will be ready in three days."
Samedi tilted his head in acknowledgment. "They will be loaded and ready to travel by then."
"Good. I want no more fuck-ups. I've already lost too much merchandise over the last few months." Bible spat. "And no more examples, or I will make one out of you." With the threat issued, the screen cut out, signaling the end of the connection.
Samedi dropped the fake smile, his lips curling into a growl. How dare that overinflated, egotistical asshole threaten me? Without me, your syndicate is nothing.
But he knew what was troubling Bible. Someone had been rescuing girls from his henchmen across the Eastern border, damaging his credibility among his most loyal customers and putting him more on edge than usual.
Through their communications, he learned that Bible had used his connections in the FBI to sever any ties the arrested individuals had to the syndicate, while also collecting the files on their arrests. Samedi was particularly interested to find out that many of the men recently arrested had been shouting about monsters and had to be taken to mental health facilities for evaluations. This intrigued him. Perhaps his skills as a Vodou priest would soon be needed.
Tapping his cane on the cold concrete floor, Samedi walked back to Chloe's charred body and gazed upon her. Then, kneeling beside the corpse, he took out a blade from inside his coat and cut deep into her exposed leg, drawing a fresh swell of blood. Next, he removed a vial from his inside pocket, filled it to the top, and replaced the stopper before tucking the blood-filled tube away.
One finished, Samedi stood and gave the body a mocking bow. "You may yet still be of use, my sweet."
Tapping his cane on the cold floor, Samedi turned and stepped through the far door, closing it behind him.