Sold to the Prince of the Meldanians Page 2

  Victoria warned her that Betty, the woman at the front desk, was not someone Amelia should willingly converse with. If possible, Victoria told her she should just slip passed and get directly into the elevator, without so much as a “hello” or a “have a nice night.”

  She tried. In fact, she was mere inches from pushing the button to call the elevator, when Betty looked up from her crossword and eyed Amelia over the top of her thick spectacles. “May I help you?”

  “Er, yes. Hi.” Amelia looked longingly at the elevator doors, then walked back to the front desk. “I’m a friend of Victoria Alabaster. She has invited me to stay in her apartment. See.” Amelia placed the keycard down on the desk between them. “She gave me her keycard and the code to get inside.”

  Betty’s eyes narrowed as she scanned Amelia, head to toe, sizing her up. “Hmm,” she said. “What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t actually,” said Amelia. “It’s Amelia.”

  “Amelia what?”

  Amelia frowned. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, but this woman seemed to be being difficult just for the sake of being difficult, and Ameila was way too tired to be cooperative. “I don’t see why you’d need to know that.”

  “And I don’t see what the issue is with you giving me your full name, unless, of course, you have something to hide.” Betty’s mouth curled upward in a slight, challenging smile. “I need to write down the name of everyone who comes and goes from the Lux. That’s my job.”

  Amelia sighed. “Fine, whatever. Cobbles. The last name is cobbles.”

  Betty’s smile grew, probably because by revealing her last name, Amelia had validated the woman’s suspicions about her background. Before the war, the people of this region used to have last names which reflected their jobs, which in turn, would reflect their status. Nowadays, because of all the changes made after the war, when the shifters took over what is now called District Eight, everyone’s occupation changed and gaging status based solely on a last name became impossible. But that didn’t stop Betty. Cobbles was a variation on the word Cobbler, which is what Amelia’s grandparents did for a living. Between the last name and her disheveled, grimy appearance, she knew there would be no convincing Betty that she belonged there.

  To the old woman’s credit, she did let Amelia go, after writing down her name and a short description of what she looked like. “Just in case,” she said. “I have to describe you to anyone.” Like the police after I rob this place?

  Amelia wondered what Betty thought of the discrepancy between Victoria’s last name and the fact that she could afford to live in a place like the Lux. Alabaster was a last name many potters adopted, which was who Victoria descended from. Maybe it helped that she could introduce herself as Dr. Alabaster.

  Note to self, next time you’re meeting someone in this neighborhood, introduce yourself as Dr. Cobbles.

  Victoria’s apartment was simple, elegant, and nicer than any place Amelia had ever been in –– and that included the one time she worked a catering gig at a wealthy shifter’s party and was able to sneak out of the kitchen a few times to look around the mansion.

  It wasn’t that her apartment was expensively furnished, like the shifter mansion, or that it was decorated with one-of-a-kind art, or that her appliances, heating, AC, and water were running on some sort of futuristic computerized system, again like the shifter mansion. It was just nice. The floors were made to look like they were done in distressed wood, the colors a beautiful combination of light grays and soft blues. It wasn’t real wood, that was for certain, but it looked close enough. The living room had a few pieces of modest furniture, which, upon sitting on the couch, Amelia realized were ridiculously comfortable.

  The kitchen came equipped with appliances Amelia didn’t even know existed –– like a purley electric stove and a fridge that had a water and ice machine installed in the door. The counters were clear of clutter, and the kitchen table was small, with only two chairs. Victoria wasn’t the entertaining type.

  Victoria’s bedroom was also spare, there was only a crisp-made bed, two bedside tables, a dresser, and a small desk pushed up against the only wall with a window. Amelia went towards the bed, nearly throwing her body into it, but on second thought, she thought it would be best if she showered first. She didn’t want to get her stink all over Victoria’s fresh sheets.

  One of the doors leading out of the bedroom led Amelia into what quickly became her favorite room in the apartment; the bathroom. The shower was huge, and the toilet was clean, white porcelain, with no stains and it was continually running like the one at her house. Victoria had a bath tub separate from her shower, which was big and round, big enough to fit two of Amelia’s skinny, boyish body.

  Forget the shower. She went to the tub and started playing around with the handles which controlled the water. I’m taking a goddamn bath.

  After getting the water to her desired temperature, Amelia pulled off her gross clothes and threw them in a pile on the floor. She dipped her toe in first, testing to see how hot it was. It was hot, very hot. Which was exactly how she wanted it. The water in her apartment was usually cold by the time she was able to use the bathroom, and even if there was warm water left, it never got this hot.

  Slowly, she lowered the rest of her body into the water, watching swirls of dirt dance off her skin as she descended. For a while, she just sat in the tub, eyes closed, relaxing and day-dreaming.

  Day-dreaming was something she typically tried to avoid. She felt it was dangerous, to think about what could be while you are in the midst of what is. Of course she wanted a different life, who doesn’t? But what’s the use in planning that life, in perfect, happy detail, when it was so unlikely to ever manifest? But now, as her muscles stopped tensing and her mind quieted, Amelia decided to allow herself this final indulgence.

  She thought about what kind of job she’d want, if she could work anywhere. She decided she would still like to work in a nursery, only she’d want to be the person in charge, that way she could implement rules and regulations that made the daycare a healthy, positive place for the kids. And she would not have to answer to the shitty, irresponsible parents.

  Her ideal home would be one like Victoria’s. Maybe not so clean, and with darker carpets, so she wouldn’t have to worry too much about spilling something or tracking dirt in. She didn’t want anything big, just a place that was hers.

  In this scenario, it occurred to Amelia that she wasn’t with anybody. Anytime she thought about having an apartment, it was always somewhere she lived alone. She had never been a romantic, like day-dreaming, she didn’t see the point in that either. She’d had a few flings here and there, with boys and girls, but nothing stuck. She always figured she would work and live at home until it became unbearable, and then she would find some shifter to marry. She didn’t really care how wealthy the shifter was, or what kind of shifter he/she was, all she really wanted was somebody who would be kind to her. It seems like she would be casting a wide-net, only having one qualifier, but unfortunately, most of the shifters she’d met had been horrendously rude if not downright aggressive towards humans.

  Even the ones her sisters married –– she met them once, before they left for District Four. They had been cordial, and they were nice to Kelly and Sasha, but they kept making offensive jokes about humans, and about other supernaturals. Kelly and Sasha would laugh with them, and all four of them would agree that the twins were the exception to a rule many shifters ascribe to; that all humans are garbage and lesser than.

  So, no, in Amelia’s day-dream, she’s achieved all of her material gains and the right to a private, quiet life on her own, instead of having it come to her in some martial exchange.

  Maybe Victoria and I will live together, she thought. That could be nice. Or maybe I’m just alone forever. That too could be very, very nice.

  2

  Ladies Night

  Victoria came home a little past six that evening. Amelia had spent two full ho
urs in the bath, then napped for the rest of the day. She woke up just before hearing the buzzing sound from the intercom near the front door. She slipped out of the bed, wearing only her underwear, and ran down the hallway.

  “Dr. Alabaster’s apartment,” she said, pressing down the button. “Victoria isn’t in right now.”

  “It’s me,” said Victoria. “Can you buzz me in?”

  “Oh yeah!” Amelia eyed the other two buttons below the keypad and again just guessed. She must’ve pressed the right one because she didn’t hear anything else from Victoria, until a knock came at the apartment door. She opened it, forgetting how little clothing she was wearing.

  “Nice outfit,” Victoria joked and she shuffled inside, carrying two arms full of grocery bags.

  “Shit!” Amelia nearly slammed the door shut in her panic. “Sorry. I didn’t have any PJs and I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to borrow some––”

  “Top drawer of my dresser,” Victoria called from the kitchen. “They will probably be a little big on you, but go ahead and grab any pair you want.”

  Amelia nodded and went for the bedroom. She took the first pair, off the top of a neatly folded pile, and tried them on. They were a bit big on her, especially in the hips, but Amelia made do. Victoria was more shapely than Amelia, which wasn’t much of an anomaly, almost every woman was more shapely than her, so the pants were a bit baggy in the hips and the chest area, but that made them all the comfier in Amelia’s opinion.

  She went to the bathroom and ran a brush through her shoulder length, wavy blond hair and examined her face. She looked much less tired than she had that morning when she first spotted herself in this mirror. The bags under her eyes were less dramatic, which was good, because given the angular nature to her cheek bones, when she was tired, Amelia tended to look like a skinny zombie.

  “Your bed is amazing,” she said, coming back into the kitchen to help Victoria put the food away. “Seriously, I’ve never slept that well in my life.”

  “I’m glad.” Victoria looked a little haggard after her long shift. She put the remaining canned goods away and then grabbed one of the newly purchased bottles of wine from the rack on the table. “Want a glass?”

  “I’d love one, thank you.”

  Victoria found two thin-stemmed white wine glasses in one of her cupboards, wiped some of the dust out of the inside of them both, and poured. “When it’s just me, which it usually is, I just drink out of whatever mug I had my coffee in that morning. I’m a little bit of a slob like that.”

  Amelia laughed. “Right. You, a slob.” She motioned to the perfectly orderly apartment around her. “I can tell you’re a real mess.”

  Victoria handed her a glass and suggested they go sit in the living room.

  “I have to tell you something,” said Victoria as the two of them got comfortable. “It’s about Bud.”

  Amelia’s hand, which was bringing the glass to her mouth, stopped short as she waited for her friend to continue.

  “She’s okay, for now. But she has allergies, bad ones. I was able to doctor some of the paperwork, which allowed us to keep her for the next two or three days while we finish running tests, at no expense to the Tulips.”

  “What did Mrs. Tulip say when you told her about the allergies.”

  Victoria looked down in her glass. “I haven’t yet. I just… couldn’t.”

  Amelia nodded. “I understand.”

  They were quiet a while. Finally, Amelia took in a loud, deep breath and changed the subject. “I guess there’s nothing else that can be done about that now, so let’s talk about something else. Let’s catch up. It’s been a while since we’ve talked –– we used to get coffee all the time, remember that?”

  “Yeah,” Victoria took a sip. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately. Ever since I got this new job and moved over here, to the West Eight, I know it seems like I’ve totally abandoned everyone and everything from my old life, but I swear, I haven’t.

  Victoria used to live in East Eight, with her mom. That was how she and Amelia met. Her mom died with Victoria was only seventeen, and she took the pain of the loss and channeled it into her schoolwork. She got a full ride to the local university for undergrad, and then another full ride for medical school. She was a few years older than Amelia, and had always been a sort of mentor to her, the big sister she never had.

  “I know you haven’t forgotten about me, or the rest of us,” said Amelia. “But honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. It would be nice, to leave all that shit behind you.”

  “It wasn’t all shit,” said Victoria. She reached her hand out and squeezed Amelia’s. “I will keep in touch better from now on, I promise. And feel free to stay here as long as you want.”

  Amelia drank a large swig from her glass, not wanting to commit to anything just then. “So,” she said after swallowing. “Are you dating anyone?”

  “Ha! Yeah right. I barely have time to tie my shoes in the morning, where would I find the time to date?” She shook her head. “No dates. I’ve had a few hookups, just to keep me from going totally crazy, but that’s it. There was one girl I thought I might have something with, but then she totally went totally silent on me one day.”

  Amelia frowned. “That sucks. I wonder why?”

  Victoria shrugged. “Who knows? I was pretty pissed for a while, then… well…” She trailed off and again avoided meeting Amelia’s eyes. “I thought something might have happened to her, but I have no proof. It was just a suspicion.”

  “What kind of something exactly?”

  “Do you remember a while back, when I was in high school and you were in middle school, there was a slew of disappearances in the East Eight? All those young women who were snatched up in the night, never to be heard from again?”

  “Yeah,” said Amelia. “I vaguely remember hearing about that. They caught the guy though.”

  “At least,” said Victoria. “That’s what they told us. I’m not so sure they were even actually looking for him. Anyway, at the risk of sounding really paranoid, or trying to come up with some other explanation other than this girl just rejected me, I wonder if maybe this girl was stolen or something.”

  “Have there been reports of that happening again?”

  “Nothing official. I overheard some women last week talking about it though. Their friend was being treated in the ER for some internal bleeding and other minor injuries. They were saying that their friend kept talking about being jumped by some gang who tried to put her in a van.”

  “Not to sound morbid, but stuff like that happens all the time in East.”

  “But these girls didn’t come from East. They lived in West.”

  “What?” Amelia put her now empty glass down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “No way. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen in this neighborhood.”

  “Maybe it does,” said Victoria. “Lola, that’s her name, was supposed to meet me here one night, we’d planned it the day before. She was always on time to stuff and didn’t seem like the flakey type. When she didn’t show, I tried to call her a few times that night, then a few dozen times the next day. Nothing. I checked the local news and with all the hospitals in the area, but nobody had heard anything. No women fitting her description had checked in. When I told my friends at work about it, they told me that I’d been rejected and just to let it go.”

  She finished her glass of wine and set it down next to Amelia’s. “Do you think I sound crazy?”

  Amelia chewed her bottom lip and mulled the question over. “No,” she said. “I don’t think you sound crazy. I guess I just hate to think about what it would mean if you were right.”

  “Me too.”

  Again, they were silent. Again, Amelia spoke first.

  “I thought we were going to change the subject to something happier.”

  “Right, okay. What do you want to talk about?”

  Amelia scrunched up her face and tried to come up with a more upbeat topic they could di
scuss. “Umm… let’s see… something happy, something positive…” She looked up into the corner of the room, as if she’d find some cheery topic hiding up there.

  Victoria laughed. “We are so pathetic.”

  Amelia sighed and laid down on the couch in a huff. “Ugh. Maybe we should just watch some TV instead. You have any happy movies we could put on?”

  Victoria stood up, suddenly alive and excited. “Yes! I do. I have the perfect movie. But first.” She headed to the kitchen. “We need more wine.”

  The movie was a romantic comedy made before the war. It was starring two actors Amelia didn’t know but that Victoria said were here favorites.

  “I wonder what they’re up to these days?” she asked while the credits were rolling. “Do you think they’re still alive?”

  Amelia shrugged and said, “Who knows?”

  Victoria told her she was welcome to spend the night again but Amelia had declined. She had an early shift at the nursery the next morning and the hospital was closer to her parents house than it was to Victoria’s apartment. Besides, she wanted to check in on her younger siblings –– she didn’t like going more than a few days without seeing them, otherwise, there was no one around to make sure they had enough to eat and that they weren’t skipping school.

  She was third in line, after her twin sisters, but with them gone, she sort of felt like the oldest, and therefore took on the role of the make-shift parent, which to be fair, is a role she’d been playing since she was old enough to walk. At twenty years old, this was a lot of responsibility. After Amelia came the only son in the family, Alvin, who was just about to turn nineteen. He was a good brother, but never the care-giver type. He wasn’t good at cooking or keeping house, but he did work long hours and use all the money to support the family, which was more than could be said about Gwen and Earl.