Blood & Cinders- Choose your Own Adventure Story

Chapter 4

Rage and disgust burned in her. She would bite her tongue before letting that beast have his way with her. She slackened her jaw without opening her mouth and slid her tongue between her teeth.

She steeled herself and—

"Five hundred Francs."

Isabelle froze at the sound of the deep bellow that came from the back.

It must have been a rather sizable sum of money for a slave, because a murmur of surprise ran through the crowd. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

"Do I hear five-fifty?" the crow-woman called out to the crowd.

The pig-man's smile disappeared. He huffed, but did not raise a hand.

Relief shot through Isabelle. It wasn't the pig.

"Five hundred going once. Going twice." The crow-woman's beady eyes scanned the audience. She clapped once. "Sold! Come claim your slave. Next!"

A taloned hand shoved Isabelle towards the set of steps on the other side of the dais. She waited at the bottom of the steps, nervously awaiting her bidder with fisted palms.

A hooded figure broke away from the shadows, its mysterious appearance drawing the eyes of all those in the room. Besides its cloaked identity, the frame was large, towering. Intimidating. It marched up to her, a black-furred hand and long black claws curling around her wrist. Isabelle tried not to cower as it led her towards one of the exits. She spared one last glance at the girl on stage.

Sarah stared back at her, eyes wide with fear.

They entered a room behind the stage; the door shutting behind them, cutting off the sight of the theater and of Sarah. In the dim room, several other young slaves waited with creatures at their side.

A squirrelish woman skirted around Isabelle's feet with an iron key, freeing her from her bindings; the girl's long grey skirts swept the floor, matching its muted tone. Her nose was pushed high on her face and dark flaxen hair like her family's mare stuck out in long ringlets from her head, curling around flopping sheep-like ears and two tiny horns that peaked atop her head. Her eyes looked the most human she had seen yet. Honey coloured. Wide, with a touch of fear.

Isabelle shifted on her feet as the girl took the chains away, feeling the lightness of her step once more.

The woman did not look like the crowd that still shouted their bids inside the theater. No jewels glitter across her chest, or adorned the lobes or horns of her head. Her only adornment was circles of leather bands that ran up her arms like bangles she'd seen swaying from traveling gypsies that passed through her town. The leather bands came in varying sizes. Some etched with pattern and others holding tiny gems that wreathed around the outside, twinkling in the lamplight.

There was a table of chains behind her where she placed the shackles.

"Collar, my lord?" She addressed the beast beside Isabelle, holding up one with pretty blue jewels like tear drops.

Isabelle's stomach dropped in disgust. They might as well have been snakes wrapped around her arms for all the disdain she felt in that moment. They looked like the animals, yet it was her that was treated like one.

"No need," came the deep rumble beside her and she breathed out relief, till the next table they stopped at set her apprehension twisting in her gut once more.

"Five hundred Francs." A bird-like man with a monocle looked up from his leather bound logbook, holding out a palm expectantly.

Her bidder reached into his cloak and pulled out a bag of coins. He dropped it onto the table and moved onwards without giving birdman time to count it all.