Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
No wonder these death-surrogates didn’t make friends with each other. They were caught up in a zero-sum game.
“Stop lallygagging.” Hogg tightened his grip on my bicep and hauled me into an office. An unexpectedly normal workplace with a desk covered in papers, a chair on each side, and a set of filing cabinets that lined the walls.
“Sit,” he barked, giving me a push toward a chair.
I obeyed, ready to get this over with. Although, maybe, finally, I might learn where, exactly, I’d landed. Was Hakeldama even located on modern Earth? The very idea that I’d traveled to another world or time or dimension struck me as absurd and yet…not.
My companion plopped into the seat behind the desk and gathered a leather-bound book and a feather pen. “Name, age, and village of birth.”
“Moriah Shaker. Twenty. Ozworld, Kansas.” No reason to risk a crimen with a lie. Hopeful, I asked, “Have you met anyone else from Kansas?” If a tornado had whisked me here, it might’ve done the same to others in the past. Though I scoured my brain, I couldn’t recall the name of the local woman who’d spurred the original rumors.
“I have,” he replied as he recorded my information. “I’m not surprised you hail from such a savage land. Your fellow Kansans were just as mouthy.”
I blinked at him. Savage? Wait. Others had been here! “What happened to them?” I rushed out, puffing up as excitement brewed.
“What else? They either died or got traded.” His indifferent tone deflated my internal balloon. “No more questions. I don’t recall giving you permission to speak. Give me your hand.”
What, they used fingerprint ID here? Willing to play nice for answers, I obeyed, offering my hand. But I didn’t stay quiet. “I’d like to read your logbook to search for names I might recognize. And that wasn’t a question but a request.”
“You may not.” He clasped my wrist and stamped white-hot iron into my palm. “No more requests, either.”
I screeched, unprepared for the flare of scorching pain. What the—He released me, and I snatched back my throbbing appendage.
A bomb of fury detonated inside me when I spotted the design seared into my flesh. OZ. As in…
No! No, no, no. “What does this mean?” I demanded.
Hogg motioned to a filing cabinet marked O-Z. The cabinet next to it read A-N. I worked my jaw as realization dawned. OZ referenced an alphabetical filing system.
“You belong to Mr. West now,” Hogg said. “Your actions are a reflection upon him, so you will conduct yourself with dignity and decorum at all times.”
“I belong to myself.” And I highly doubted Mr. West was known as a man of “dignity” and “decorum.”
Hogg continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “You are not to ever commit a crime.”
“What’s considered a crime?” I grated. “Give me a full list.”
“Lying, stealing, cheating, and everything in between.”
I sputtered for a moment. “And decapitation? Is that not a crime?”
“That is a sacrifice. Payment for a wrongdoing. Necessary.” He waved his hand when I opened my mouth to reply. “From now on, I decide your fate. Best you remember that.” He stood and rounded the desk. When he reached out to pull me to a stand, I slapped his arm away and rose on my own. He narrowed his eyelids, saying, “I suggest you behave, or things will not go well for you.”
No doubt his idea of “behave” was accepting any abuse he and Mr. West dished. At least he hadn’t arranged a whipping for me.
“Be thankful you aren’t with Mrs. East. Her substitutes beg to be traded to Mr. West.”
“A worse choice doesn’t make a bad one better,” I told him, the frost on my spine solidifying.
He rolled his eyes as if I spouted nonsense and strode from the office, expecting me to follow. Which I did. I had a mission. Study. Learn. Obtain. Go. Without causing the death of another sacrifice.
Ugh. How was I supposed to manage such a feat?
Only Patch met my gaze as I marched through the stable once more. The knowing sympathy I detected in the hustler’s eyes left me far from comforted.
Queasy, I asked, “Can you at least tell me about Henry?”
“Mr. West’s eldest son. He won’t force you into his bed if that’s what’s worrying you,” Hogg assured me. “His women are always given a choice.”
That statement did nothing to alleviate my nerves.
Hogg led me outside, along a different cobblestone path, and into the garden behind the mansion, where (green) bee houses abounded. A forest as eerie as the one near the chapel stretched beyond them. Using a door in back, we entered an ancient kitchen bustling with activity. At least fifteen sweating women chopped, stirred, and mixed a diverse assortment of foods. A massive wood-burning stove turned the space into an oven.
In seconds, sweat sheened me. I hardly cared, too busy eyeing the goodies, overwhelmed by hunger. Months had passed since I’d eaten a decent meal.