The BloodDark Complete

By Cindy A. Matthews and Adrian J. Matthews

Fire on the Sands Book 1: A night out turns to terror when Olivia Brown is abducted by an alien vampiric race. She finds herself held captive on BloodDark, a world light years from Earth, but all is not lost. Olivia finds allies and even love in the most unexpected places. Can she and her friends escape the Pure Bloods’ city and find safety?
Olivia’s Escape Book 2: Olivia returns to Earth, then travels to BloodDark, prepared to sacrifice herself to make both worlds safe from those who would do evil.
Olivia’s Return Book 3: Olivia must decide which world she stands for—Earth or BloodDark. Will her sacrifice be enough to convince Hernando and others of her loyalty?
Olivia’s Decision Book 4: Airship Captain Adena Nightingale undertakes a smuggling run and gets mixed up in a world of hurt when an ancient weapon comes to life.

The BloodDark Complete Contains:

Fire on the Sands Book 1
Olivia’s Escape Book 2
Olivia’s Return Book 3
Olivia’s Decision Book 4

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Dec 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781487438517

Book preview

Chapter One

This wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Olivia Brown knew talking to herself looked and sounded weird, but it kept her from freaking out. Besides, her one-sided conversation would scare off any dubious types lurking in the darkness, because who’d want to mess around with a lone psycho who talked to herself?

I know I wouldn’t. Keep it up, Ollie girl.

She tugged her denim jacket together, shivering as another early spring breeze hit her full-on and threatened to knock her off her feet. Her thin coat and tank tee, which had been more than warm enough on the dance floor and in Brittany’s car, provided no protection walking the flat streets of a Midwestern town in this weather. She’d swept her long, brownish-black braids into a ponytail earlier in the evening, and the bitter wind now chafed the café-au-lait skin of her neck. If she didn’t get home soon, she’d freeze to death.

Why in the world did she ever trust Brittany? Yeah, sure Britt had gotten them into the club, and they’d gotten to hear Olivia’s favorite local band, Los Bad Boys, but Britt had ditched her to hook up with some frat brother from the local college and the chance of scoring free beer and more.

Olivia gritted her teeth. This was the last stunt Britt would ever pull on her. She’d take Britt off her Twitter account as soon as she got home... if she ever got home.

Olivia wouldn’t kid herself. She was far from stupid, in spite of her sometimes head-in-the-cloud ways. She realized what all could go wrong for a seventeen-year-old girl walking home alone through the worst part of town after midnight.

Her parents were going to kill her—if someone else didn’t beat them to it first.

A crash of metal behind had her jumping and her heartbeat pounding in her ears. What the—

Olivia spun around, fists raised, ready to fight. An orange tabby meowed a sad, cold cry as it jumped from a garbage can lid to the top of a low shed. She lowered her hands and placed them on her heart. It thumped faster and stronger than the driving drumbeats of Los Bad Boys’ super-gorgeous drummer. Olivia warmed at the thought of seeing him in person and getting his autograph on her shirt. She vowed to never wash it again. Maybe it had been worth lying to her family and sneaking over to the other side of town to see them play. She started toward home again, quickening her pace.

Time to make tracks like you, Mr. Cat. Wish I had your fur coat to keep warm.

Doing a half-jog, half-run, it took her ten minutes to reach and cross the railroad tracks, leaving behind the rundown section of her small town where most of the nightclubs and drinking establishments resided. Only two more miles until she greeted her quiet, well-lit neighborhood... Olivia ran full-out, but within a block a stitch in her side slowed her progress.

I’ve... gotta get in shape... Bikini season will be here soon enough.

She leaned on her knees and took large gulps of the arctic air into her lungs until it felt as if they’d burst. I’ll walk the rest of the way. There are even sidewalks and more cop patrols on this side of the tracks.

Humming one of the band’s better tunes, she shoved her chilled hands into her jeans pockets. After briskly strolling several tree-lined blocks of renovated late-Victorian-era homes, she’d forgotten how angry Britt had made her earlier in the evening. She made a mental note to call her friend before anyone knew she’d returned home and coordinate the cover story they’d both have to give their parents, since it would be obvious that Olivia hadn’t spent the night at Britt’s and vice versa.

She frowned. Their parents were always treating them like children instead of the mature young adults they were. It was a double insult to Britt since she had turned legal age in October. Olivia promised herself that in June when she turned eighteen, she’d return the favor and borrow her mom’s car and take Britt—and possibly Jace and Alexa—over to the club to rock out with Los Bad Boys.

Almost home. She smiled upon reaching the corner of her street.

Before she could take a deep, relaxing breath, she heard and felt a whoosh of air, and blackness overtook her senses.

Chapter Two

If her head didn’t hurt so much, she’d swear she was dreaming.

What a dream! Olivia didn’t care much for horror movies or high fantasy sagas, but the dark stone edifice that rose in front of her would make the perfect backdrop for one of those stories, no problem.

Jace must have told me about a game based on a haunted castle or something, she muttered to herself. A wizard or an elf would fit in better than these guys, though. What’s with the depressing coal-gray cloaks and hoods?

Looking around, she took in the huge cobblestone plaza and the twenty or so figures outlined by a blood-orange light coming from a rather bright star in an otherwise pitch-black sky. What star could it be? Their guides—what else could she call these hooded dudes?—pushed and prodded the group of frightened people forward, toward the stone fortress and away from a high-domed pavilion surrounded by columns. The wall-less structure stood in the center of the square like a giant memorial. Somehow, she knew they all had arrived in this place through the domed structure, but how or when or why she couldn’t say. The low hum of machinery echoed in her ears, and her head throbbed.

What had they hit her with? She rubbed her temples and neck but didn’t find any bumps or swelling. Had she been tazed? A Taser made your nerves feel like they had been set ablaze according to Jace. What she would give to have her geeky neighbor here! Even a pasty couch potato like Jace would have calmed her nerves. These strangers and... guides... certainly didn’t inspire her with any confidence. Fear and gloom hung heavy in the musty night air.

Olivia glanced upward at the heavens again. Her eyes had adjusted to the strange star’s glow. She prided herself on her knowledge of the night sky, but these star groupings were unfamiliar. Had she been knocked out and transported to another world?

Don’t go there, Ollie. You’re weirding yourself out over nothing but a bad dream. Get a grip!

The blood-red gas giant with dark striations, suspended low on the horizon, was the real clincher. She froze in place and rubbed her eyes. When did Earth get a planet buddy and lose the old familiar moon? Before she could dwell too long on that puzzle, one of their friendly hooded guides poked her with the pointed end of a long pole, shoving her into the back of another young woman.

Sorry. I must have been holding up the line. The joke sounded lame and she knew it, but perhaps humor would put them all at ease? She tried to match her pace with the tall blonde girl in front of her, noting the girl’s fashionable purple silk scarf, designer mini-skirt, and high-heeled leather boots. Her new friend flashed a weak smile. Olivia had a sinking feeling.

You speak English?

"Français," the girl replied.

Before the blonde girl could speak again, a guide—or rather a guard, Olivia surmised—separated them with his cane. She sighed.

A stickler for the rules obviously. No conversing in line.

Olivia quickly scanned her fellow... prisoners? Yes, they’d all been brought here against their will. There was no doubting that fact anymore. A United Nations assembly-worth of ethnicities and clothing styles greeted her. Male and female, rich and poor. Most appeared to be healthy and between the ages of seventeen and fifty. The true nature of her situation hit her.

We’ve been abducted—from all over. Somehow we’ve all been taken from Earth.

She was paid for her last comment with a strong jab in the back.

Watch it, fella! My daddy will sue your butt off if you damage the goods.

Dad! Mom! Why had she lied to them? Why had she gone to the club in the first place? The guilt she felt over deceiving her parents threatened to drown out the fear of her newfound situation. She’d be home safe and sound in her bed now if she’d obeyed their wishes. What would they do when they discovered she was missing? It would break their hearts.

Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but Olivia blinked them back and set her face into a determined glare at her captors.

I will return home, Mom and Dad. I promise.

The forced progression came to a halt outside a high, arched entrance of the stone fortress. Other cloaked individuals came toward the group and conversed in low tones with the guards who indicated with their long canes how they wanted to divide the hostages. A cold tingle of trepidation traveled the length of Olivia’s spine in spite of the heat.

My African ancestors must have felt like this when they were taken off the slave ships and marched into the market for sale.

It came as no surprise to Olivia that the French-speaking girl, along with six other young women who appeared under thirty, were herded together and made to enter an arched entrance different from the males and older females.

Where are you taking us?

No reply and no more hard jabs with the sticks, but still the guards assigned to their group forced them forward, down a long, dark corridor marked by a series of oversized doors with what appeared to be locks on both sides. The scary entryways could only lead to prison cells. After what seemed a mile of walking, they stopped.

Olivia looked at the tall blonde girl and smiled her support. The poor thing was shaking in her boots.

You take care of yourself—and don’t forget about me.

To Olivia’s relief, the guards didn’t separate the young women from each other. The group was funneled into a large holding cell, and the door slammed behind them with an ominous clank.

I don’t know about you, but I find it stuffy in here.

Olivia removed her denim jacket, grateful she wore only the tank top. She took a seat with the others along a wide stone bench built in the back wall facing the door. The room contained no other furniture or windows, but it appeared to have a toilet stall and sink in the opposite corner. Their captors at least understood the basic physical needs of their hostages. The dim lighting came from an odd manhole-cover-shaped fixture in the middle of the ceiling.

Wonder where the air conditioning vents are located. She tried to fill the frightened silence of the room. I sure hope they turn the air on soon or else we’ll start to smell worse than a roomful of sweaty jocks after basketball practice—like my first period chemistry lab does.

The blonde girl grinned slowly.

She must know a little English but she doesn’t know enough to reply, which is about as good as my Spanish gets.

She pointed to herself. Olivia. American. And you?

"Claudette. Swiss. I no speak much English. Italiano? Deutsch?"

"Afraid not. Some Español and that’s it. Languages aren’t my strong subjects."

Olivia called over at a petite Asian girl lying on her side, curled up in a tight fetal position. You speak English by chance?

The girl appeared to be in shock. Olivia decided not to press the issue.

A young woman dressed in a black Middle-Eastern head-to-toe covering pulled her veil even higher across her face. She didn’t seem able or willing to converse at present, either. A young woman with a long black plait clung to a younger girl as if to protect her. Their bowler hats and brightly colored skirts reminded Olivia of a National Geographic photo of women from the Andes.

"Hablan español ustedes?"

"Sì," the older replied, but the rest of her sentence came out in a rushed mixture of Spanish and Indian dialect.

Olivia nodded, but she really didn’t understand more than their names, Maria and Anita, and the word hermanas in the sentence.

Sisters. At least they have each other.

She turned to the last prisoner in the cell. A thin African woman wearing a brightly patterned sarong and a multitude of beads about her neck shyly smiled at her.

You don’t speak English, do you?

The reply came in a language that contained some odd clicking noises Olivia had never heard before. She acted friendly and not quite as scared as the others but she still appeared worried.

You must think I look a bit odd with the hazel-green eyes and brownish hair I got from my mom, Olivia went on, trying to lighten the mood even if no one in the room could understand her. My mom is part Irish and part Cherokee. I got my skin color and the frizzy hair from Dad. He’s part Cherokee and part African-American. I don’t know if any of his ancestors came from your area, but it’s possible we’re distant cousins.

The African woman nodded as if she grasped the gist of Olivia’s ramblings and pressed a hand to her heart.

Are you okay? Olivia sat beside her. Unshed tears welled in the side of the young woman’s eyes. It’s okay. I’m going to figure a way out of here, and you all are definitely coming with me.

A few words and a motion of rocking a baby to sleep in her arms gave Olivia a sinking feeling.

Her baby! She misses her baby. These whatever-they-are took her away from her child!

Olivia’s eyes grew damp. She wiped them with the back of her hands. No time for tears—she had to be brave, if not for herself then for the others.

A metal clinking sound alerted them they were going to have company. Olivia knew her courage was about to be tested. She rose and approached the door.

Hey, we demand to see our lawyers and be told what’s going on—

The cloaked guards pushed her back toward the bench, forming a tight circle around another cloaked individual. His satin, blood-red cape with fancy gold embroidered edging spoke of power and money. Two guards wearing a crimson emblem on their black cloaks stood beside him. His personal bodyguards?

Olivia jumped up on the bench and raised a fist. Look here! We have rights, and we aren’t going to stand for any more of this silent treatment.

A quick nod from the head guy, and one of his foot soldiers pushed her flat against the wall with his staff. Olivia found herself watching helplessly as the guards herded her fellow hostages into a circle. She could do nothing to comfort them.

Two guards grabbed Claudette and pulled her into the center of the circle. She shrieked. The Peruvian sisters cowered, the Asian girl refused to uncurl from her fetal position, and the Arab woman shielded her face with her veil and turned away, sobbing. The African mother jumped forward to help but was forced back by one of the ever-present sticks.

Hang in there, Claudette, Olivia shouted.

The red-cloaked individual pushed his hood back. Finally, they could see their captor’s face. A collective gasp reverberated throughout the chamber.

Olivia laughed to keep up her brave front. Ha! You’re not winning any contests on looks, mister.

Human? Maybe.

He appeared male and possessed the standard number of eyes, mouth, nose, and ears, but something wasn’t quite right. She squinted and took a careful visual inventory.

The eyes, dark and cat-like, glowed with the intensity of dying embers, utterly devoid of emotion. The nose reminded Olivia of a V pointing downward. The mouth hung in a permanent frown, accenting his sharp chin, which seemed to match his narrow and sharply edged ears. His ivory skin tone appeared pale and unhealthy as if he’d rarely experienced the light of day.

He opened his thin, red lips to speak.

Oh, no... his teeth!

Olivia suppressed a scream. The man barked a command. His bodyguards each took an arm and held the struggling Claudette still while the red-cloaked demon slowly walked about the blonde girl. He stopped and stared intensely into her face for a brief moment. Claudette’s eyes grew as large as saucers. He pressed his nose close to her neck, shoulders, and lower, sniffing as he went. She whimpered softly but otherwise didn’t make a sound.

Olivia’s heart drummed faster.

What is he doing with his nose at Claudette’s hemline? What sort of pervert is he? And what’s up with those teeth? Needle-sharp and longer than any human’s ought to be. He could pass for Dracula on Halloween without makeup or fake fangs.

Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she’d withhold judgment on their captor’s motives for his odd behavior regarding the girl’s scent. Perhaps he wanted to demonstrate how people communicated here—wherever here was.

After several minutes of sniffing, he nodded, and the bodyguards dragged the stunned Claudette out of the circle and dropped her unceremoniously onto the stone bench. They seized the Asian girl and tried to pull her to her feet, but she fainted and fell forward. Her unconscious state didn’t delay them. The demon simply sniffed at her as she was propped up by the bodyguards. He made a disparaging grunt, and they dragged her back to the bench and grabbed the next—and the next.

Each woman in turn was brought forward and sniffed like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher’s display case at the supermarket. The sisters clung fast on to each other, but the cloaked guards separated them with ease. With a look from their captor, their cries gave way to an unearthly silence Olivia couldn’t fathom. What power did the red-cloaked demon possess that could silence healthy young women in mere seconds?

She would know soon enough.

I don’t think so. Olivia held her ground when the guards grabbed her arms. She locked her knees and refused to budge. You’ve had enough of your kinky games for tonight, don’t you think? I demand to see someone in charge.

Before she knew it, she felt herself being lifted up and carried over the others’ heads to their captor. Only one way to prevent his blatant intrusion of their personal space—she shut her eyes and turned her head away. She wouldn’t let him hypnotize her into cooperating.

He gave a guttural cry. The guards forced her to face forward, but they couldn’t make her open her eyes. Another grunt, sounding like a cry of anger.

Demon Dude isn’t happy.

Olivia laughed.

Too bad. You’ll have to release me now. I’m not going to forget your face or what you sound like or smell like ‘cause you really do stink. I’m going to report you to whoever is in charge around these parts and get you in big trouble, because I have a feeling you’re not exactly the nicest of guys or have too many friends.

To prove it, a guard wrapped a muscular arm about her waist, and someone else pried her legs open into a wide stance. Her heart sank. He was going to sniff her whether she cooperated or not.

Maybe it would have been better to let him hypnotize me? I wouldn’t have to feel his stinky, hot breath on my skin.

Humming to herself, she suffered the indignity of being sniffed. The demon let out a high-pitch squeal, startling her. The guards relaxed their grip, and she ventured an eye open.

Their captor smiled a horrible, needle-toothed grin. She wasn’t an expert on alien facial expression, but she would have sworn he looked like he had just won the lottery. An evil glint in his dark eyes gave Olivia little comfort.

Thanks. I can go—the girls and I can go now? She glanced over her shoulder and gave them each a nod.

Don’t worry. We’ll be out of here soon.

He quickly clapped his long-fingered hands twice. The guards left the circle and grabbed her cell companions. Two of the demon’s personal bodyguards took her by the elbow gently, as if they were afraid they’d bruise her. Why the special treatment all of a sudden?

Olivia tried to smile. Uh, are we all going somewhere, guys?

The demon gave a quick nod to the bodyguards. She found herself whisked out of the room, followed by the man in the red cloak.

Hey, wait! What about my friends?

The cell door clanged behind her. She struggled against her escorts’ grip, but they insisted she come along with them. Tired of dragging her feet—since it hurt and made little difference to their progress—she allowed herself to be taken to a flight of stairs and marched up several stories to another long corridor. This time it was well-lit with taper-like lighting along the wall and doors made of what could have been wood.

The hotel section of the fortress from Hell?

What about Claudette and the others? Olivia demanded. Are they going to be moved to their own rooms?

The bodyguards halted outside a door with a narrow metal hatch built in. The demon growled a few instructions to them, and the door was opened. Olivia peered inside and was surprised to see an actual bed, table, a chair, and a small window on the outer wall.

Better accommodations. I’m glad you understood me when I said I’d report you for your treating guests so poorly.

With a gentle shove, they propelled her into the chamber and closed the door. A locking sound rattled and then she turned to catch sight of demon dude’s ugly face filling the peephole.

Go away! she screamed. I don’t want to see your hideous face ever again.

He barked something that sounded close to a curse and slammed the peephole door shut. Alone at last, Olivia collapsed onto the bed and sobbed herself to sleep.

Chapter Three

The days passed in pretty much the same way. A cloaked guard brought her food about an hour after she rose and then left her to her own devices. It was quite a lot of food, mostly odd-colored fruits with the occasional bits of what could pass for bread or crackers and something that she took for a meat dish. Most of it tasted all right, and it didn’t seem to be poisoned. After she had cleared the tray—probably about midday Olivia reckoned—another generously arrayed tray of food arrived a few hours later. Dinner and a midnight snack? At least her captors didn’t want to starve her to death.

They also provided her with clothing and toiletries. She slept in a linen-like, crimson gown and wrapped herself up in a luxuriously soft dark-blue robe made from some sort of fur. House slippers softer than her granny’s goose-down comforter made her feel like she walked on air instead of a cold, hard stone floor. The handles of the hairbrush, comb and... tooth-polisher... were intricately carved from an ivory-like substance.

The soap and shampoo smell like corn, but maybe that’s considered a rare perfume here—wherever here is. These people really live first-class.

After five days she finally got the hang of the toothbrush. It had been designed with very long, narrow teeth in mind. She ended up having to brush each tooth separately, but it worked. From the small mirror above the wash basin, she was able to see she didn’t look too worse for wear, but a glint of worry and guilt still haunted her eyes.

Were they fattening her up? Was she to be the main course at an upcoming banquet? Were the other girls receiving the same treatment and awaiting a similar fate? Had she watched too many horror movies?

She tried not to dwell upon her fate for long. Gazing through the narrow window high on the outside wall, she hoped to see the sun—her sun. Instead, she gazed upon the small orange-red star bleeding a weak, red light from above and the lumbering gas giant moving lower on the horizon.

Still night outside. Maybe this is one of those tidally locked planets like Mercury or Pluto or the moon? But who would choose to live on the dark side of the moon? Whoever heard of a habitable planet that didn’t have a day and night? Crazy, just crazy...

Olivia sighed. Being left alone like this, she was bound to go mad and chatter to herself.

If only I could get out of this prison. There has to be a way! There has to be.

A week after she’d been locked up, her first hint of a reprieve came.

She had almost finished eating her lunch when the door abruptly swung open. In strolled Demon Dude the Skirt Sniffer and his bodyguards.

I thought y’all had forgotten all about li’l ol’ me, she said in a deadpan tone as she lay her chopstick-like eating utensil down. Is my stay up at your luxurious resort spa?

Demon Dude seemed to be doing his best to smile. It frightened her. Truth be told, it probably frightened his own mother.

Olivia stood and glared at him. You gonna give me my free phone call at last?

He pressed a small green button on a band on his left wrist then spun around on his heels and exited, the bodyguards close behind him.

She sighed. What a short and friendly visit. It couldn’t have been me. I’ve bathed regularly.

An hour later, they returned.

You missed me? Olivia laughed but didn’t bother to rise from the chair where she sat molding a small sculpture of a dog from some of the mashed-potato-like food they’d heaped on her tray. This is supposed to be Rex. It’s sort of based on our half-lab, half-collie mutt. I sure do miss Rex.

Rex, Demon Dude said. Rex.

Olivia started. She hadn’t expected to hear him utter anything remotely intelligible. She wiped her hands off on her napkin. My dog’s name is Rex.

He sputtered a sentence that sounded something like Spanish or possibly Italian.

She shook her head. Not quite following you, but you’re getting closer.

After a few more attempts in what could have been Dutch or Danish, he gave a tweak of the button on his wristband. You speak a very odd variant of a major Earth language, he said at last. No wonder we struggled to tune the translator device to the right frequency.

I can understand you. Olivia rose as if in a dream. I can actually understand you. It’s been so long since I heard anyone speak English.

English? He raised one thin eyebrow as if he were surprised. We thought you spoke American. The retrieval coordinates show you were recovered near the middle of the North American continent.

"That’s right. What are retrieval coordinates?"

They aren’t important. You are here now, and you are our... guest.

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Funny how you treat your guests. Where exactly is here?"

"BloodDark is here. It is our current home. We are located on the outer edge of the same galactic spiral arm where Earth lies."

BloodDark. Appropriate name. It certainly beats Medieval Land Fun-Time World, Alexa’s favorite video. Blood-reddish skies and eternal night. A world that only vampires could truly love.

She shivered and pushed the idea aside.

What is your name? the demon asked her.

"My name? What the heck is yours?"

He nodded slowly. Murnau.

Murnau, how did you transport me here—and the others? Where are the others? she demanded.

Others? You mean the other young females? They have been processed and have been sent to various service positions in the city and on plantations.

Plantations? Her observation about the place where they’d landed being a slave market was spot on.

Your name? He fixed a hard stare upon her face.

Her eyes seemed to lock onto his against her will. Her mind drifted into a hazy dream until she clenched her fists hard, pushing her nails into her palm. The pain brought her back to the present. She shook her head and broke off the contact.

Don’t try to hypnotize me, Murnau. You didn’t tell me how we were transported here and why.

So full of questions! He made a strange, strangled squawk, which must pass for a laugh on this odd world, and clapped. "Why, you came through the Portal. Fortunately for you, it is currently in our clan’s good hands. You are to be our special... guest."

Olivia squirmed under his gaze. She felt uncomfortable with the way he paused whenever he said guest. A race of beings who routinely locked up people they kidnapped from another planet probably held some strange ideas when it came to the meaning of guest.

"Are all your guests locked up alone for a week and kept in the dark about what’s going on?"

A week? He acted puzzled at the thought. You mean a time period. We apologize, but we must first make sure your physiology is compatible with ours. You must eat our food and breathe our atmosphere for a time period in order to become acclimated. Microorganisms from Earth in your system needed to be purged.

You had to quarantine me?

He looked at his two bodyguards. Olivia had a strong feeling Murnau could communicate with them without words.

Yes, quarantine is an accurate term. Now you are almost ready to join us at our clan hall for a very special festival. You are such a desirable find. We want it made perfect for you. If you are not fully rested and acclimated, you might not enjoy it as much. We will speak more about the festival later. He turned to exit.

Wait! She ran toward the door and tried to grab his arm, but his two stooges prevented her. I feel fine. Can’t I leave quarantine for a short visit to your clan hall?

The unnerving smile flashed across his otherwise dour expression. His dark gaze raked up and down her body as if scanning it for any sign of imperfection. "Soon. Very soon you will come to the clan hall. Tomorrow we will send someone to measure you for a new gown. My family is eager to meet you, and we like our... guests... looking their best for the festival."

He paused and tilted his head as he considered her. I still don’t know how to address you.

Olivia swallowed hard. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all if he was inviting her to meet the family? My name is Olivia. Olivia Brown.

Murnau flashed a crooked grin and maneuvered his mouth, struggling to sound out her name. Oh-lee-vee-uh. A very nice name. Welcome to BloodDark. We’ll see you again soon. He nodded to his aides. Overseers, if you’d be so kind.

His bodyguards nudged her back toward the table before securing the door behind them.

It’s nice to be fussed over, she mumbled, returning to her food sculpting, "but what does he mean by calling me a desirable find?"

Chapter Four

Olivia awoke about her usual time—the blood-orange star located mid-sky and the gas giant slightly higher above the horizon—and eagerly began her morning scrub. She was going to be fitted for a new gown today, as Murnau had informed her. Perhaps she’d be let out of her cell and then she could find a way to escape?

A knock on the cell door a few minutes after she’d finished breakfast alerted her to her chance.

A pro-basketball-sized bodyguard, the kind Murnau called an Overseer, entered. He wore a similar wrist communication device.

Greetings, Olivia of the Clan Brown. The Overseer gave a slight nod. "I am Wilok. We will measure you for your new garment for the... festival. He clapped his long-fingered hands twice, and a much smaller figure appeared from behind him. Do your work well and you shall receive an extra rest period," Wilok instructed the servant and then took a step backward.

The servant rose gracefully from a low bow. Olivia gasped. The young man appeared to be about her age, possibly a year or two older. His good looks rivaled any of her favorite actors. Full lips, high cheekbones, a pleasant expression... His dark-brown hair fell straight to his shoulders, a lone strand trailing across his deeply tanned cheek. His bright-brown eyes locked onto hers. She felt her thoughts drifting away, and it had nothing to do with hypnotism.

You’re—you’re human? she blurted.

He flashed a dazzling, toothy smile.

Was that a fang?

I’m fully human on my mother’s side, he said. About half human on my father’s.

Work! Wilok demanded.

Olivia jumped at the harsh bark, but the human-looking aide calmly removed what appeared to be a tailor’s tape measure from a pocket of his loose-fitting, denim-like jacket. His outfit of a plain white t-shirt, dark-blue jacket and pants reminded her of a prison uniform. It gave her an uneasy feeling that his was not a voluntary servitude.

He started by measuring her height. Four clats and three plinks.

Wilok removed a notepad from a fold in his cape and scribbled down the nonsensical measurements.

Wow, I thought I had to be at least five clats tall, she muttered for only the boy to hear. What’s your name?

Hernando. He took her left arm and held it out to measure it from shoulder to fingertip.

A delicious shiver of anticipation arose at the touch of his hand on her skin.

Two clats and an eighth of a plink, Hernando informed his master.

Wilok frowned in concentration as he recorded the measurements. The Overseer wasn’t watching them too closely, so she continued in a low voice.

You sound American, Hernando. Did they kidnap you, too?

I was born here on BloodDark. He dipped to measure her outside leg and whispered, But I’ve heard stories of how my mother’s family came from the city of Lost Angels on the other world.

Lost Angels? Her voice rose.

Wilok glared at them.

She coughed, pretending to clear her throat. Sorry. Do you think they might have come from Los Angeles?

Hernando shrugged. Two clats, four plinks.

Wilok dutifully wrote down the data. Hernando took the tape measure and flung it about her waist. Olivia gasped at his nearness.

He grinned. It’s okay. You don’t have to hold your breath.

She batted her eyelashes at him in a playful manner. I do want to look my best for the clan’s festival, she joked, imitating her maternal grandmother’s southern accent.

Poor Mom, she must be worried sick. Can’t think about that right now. Must get out of here first.

How good you look isn’t exactly what they’re interested in. Hernando frowned. Seventy-six plinks, he called out and moved the tape measure to her hips.

Olivia sensed his apprehension and swallowed hard. "Still, a girl always wants to put on a good show, particularly if she’s going out on the town and hoping to get away from this... this place."

She felt certain Hernando could interpret the true meaning behind her words, but he remained mute. He avoided her enquiring gaze as he took the remaining measurements.

Hips—ninety-two plinks. He moved higher.

She tingled all over.

Bust—eighty-eight plinks.

Did Hernando feel as embarrassed as she did at being so close or was he simply following orders and trying to ignore her? Wilok seemed absorbed with his scribbling. Was he designing the dress while Hernando took the measurements?

You do know of a place where a girl could run and hide, don’t you? she whispered, grabbing Hernando’s arm. He seemed ready to leave.

He paused. We’ll talk—later.

Olivia of the Clan Brown, we will be back shortly for you to try on your new gown. Wilok motioned for Hernando to leave before him. Rest and consume nourishment until we return. With a bow, the Overseer backed out the cell door and closed it firmly behind them.

The sound of the bolt in the lock couldn’t crush her mood. Olivia squealed with joy. What a day! I’ve found a way out of this hellhole—and a hot-looking guy to boot!

Olivia ate a bite of food, but she felt too restless to sit still. She paced around the room. At last she’d escape this cell! At last she’d made a friend who was... human. Hernando had said he was human on his mother’s side and half on his father’s. What made up his other part?

I’d better not think about his family or else I might lose it. She made faces at herself in the mirror instead. What should she do with her hair? She hadn’t been able to straighten it for over a week. Her kink was definitely starting to act up. Maybe she could slick it down and put it up in a bun?

Time passed slowly. She sat at the window and observed the distant star and the seemingly nearer gas giant, thinking how much she missed her telescope and the sky outside of her bedroom window. I will see it again. She closed her eyes for a nap.

Several hours later, the sound of the bolt being shoved aside broke the silence. She took a deep breath and prepared a big smile for Hernando who must be returning with her new dress.

Oh, it’s you.

She sighed. Murnau was the last person she wanted to see. He didn’t grasp her disappointment as his crooked grin flashed into life.

I have just checked on Wilok. He and his servants are almost finished with your gown. I bring accessories to make your outfit complete.

With a nod and a quick movement of his hand, he pulled out a book-sized jewelry case and what appeared to be several bottles of perfume and cosmetics from beneath his cloak. He placed them on the table in front of her. Would you like to try?

Olivia cautiously approached the jewelry case. Covered in soft, deep red fabric, it was the kind she had only seen on TV or in the movies. What sort of jewel lay inside?

Do not be afraid. You cannot break it. Murnau picked up the box and opened it to view.

The glittering contents took Olivia’s breath away. Gorgeous... She stared at the quarter-sized, pear-shaped pendant necklace dangling from a gold chain and its matching bracelet of smaller stones. Are these diamonds?

They are crystallized carbon—a very common stone here on BloodDark but very beautiful. Please wear them.

She shook her head. Oh, no! I couldn’t. If I lost them, I’d feel terrible.

They are a gift. Wear them. Murnau took the necklace from the case and twirled it in front of Olivia’s eyes. Beautiful stones for a beautiful young woman, yes?

If you say so.

She closed her eyes as Murnau placed the cold jewel against her throat and fastened the catch. His sickly scent wafted to her, a cross between burned metal and dying flowers, but worse yet, she sensed his quickening breath... He was panting like a marathon runner or a sick and twisted obscene phone caller. He was sniffing her again—he couldn’t get enough of her scent. She tried to step away, but his hand on her shoulder forced her to turn around and open her eyes. Looking deep into his dark eyes, she found her mind drifting, drifting—

The gown is finished, my lord.

The sound of Hernando’s voice brought her back to her senses. How long had she been standing there in Murnau’s grasp?

Let me see it. Olivia raced toward the door.

The Overseer stood his ground until Murnau nodded, and Hernando was allowed to enter the cell.

Her new friend waltzed in with an emerald-colored gown slung across his arms. She eagerly fingered its soft, velvet material, smiling and giggling. Hernando’s brown eyes held promise as well.

It’s much better than Britt’s junior prom dress last year. It’s perfect! she gushed, trying to draw attention to the dress. Somehow, they had to get Murnau and friends to leave so they could communicate without interruption. I’ve got to try it on to see how it hangs on me, but whatever do I do with all these golden lacings? I don’t know how to work them.

Olivia had seen such things on a costume at the local Renaissance festival and knew it took a helper to get them tied correctly. Would Hernando catch the hint?

Valori could help her with the lacing, Hernando suggested, laying the gown across the bed and smoothing out the wrinkles. After all, she did do the majority of the sewing and knows how it is supposed to hang on its wearer.

Yes! Hernando played it cool, but Olivia could tell he knew how to manipulate his masters when necessary.

Valori. She is a seamstress and not a house servant. Murnau didn’t appear entirely convinced this was a good thing to do.

Olivia bit her lip. How could she convince him she could be left alone with a female servant? "Oh, please, please, Murnau, she begged. You want me to look nice for the party, right? I’ve got to try it on today in case there are some alterations that need to be made."

The Overseer can stand outside the door, Hernando said, Or if you wish, I could stay in the cell and aid Valori with house servant protocol.

The demon scratched his chin with a long, pointy finger and stared at Hernando for what seemed an eternity. The guy never flinched but kept his eyes lowered in apparent submissive obedience.

Would this be acceptable? Murnau asked her at last.

Gotcha! Finally a chance to talk without the sniffer present.

Olivia bit her tongue to keep from acting too excited. Yes, it is acceptable.

With a nod to the Overseer to accompany him, Murnau exited the chamber, leaving Hernando and Olivia alone.

I thought he’d never go! She released a long-held sigh. Will Valori help me get out of here? Can you get me back to Earth?

Hernando placed a finger to her lips and hushed her. He looked about the room as if checking for surveillance devices. You’re going to walk out of this cell yourself, he said quietly. The rest will be up to you. I am no expert in the machinations of the Portal.

Is the Portal how I came to be here? How some of your family came to be here?

He winked. You’re a quick learner.

Olivia blushed. Thanks. But how am I supposed to operate something I don’t have a clue how to run? I don’t even know where it is.

"I know of the Portal’s operation only through rumor and legend, but between now and the time of the... festival... I’ll see what else I can learn about it. It stands in the heart of the city. Murnau’s clan are the most powerful on BloodDark at the moment, so they’re in charge of it now, which is fortunate since the festivities will more than likely take place near the Portal and—"

The creaking of the cell door alerted them to their visitor’s entrance. Olivia turned to greet a gray-haired woman standing at the door.

Valori. Hernando nodded. Good of you to assist us.

I am to help the poor thing put on her fancy frock, the woman said. Lean with somewhat angular features, her fine, straight hair pulled sharply back into a bun, Valori stood at least six inches shorter than Olivia. Her plain black dress hung to below her knees. Her dress sleeves were rolled up, exposing the unearthly pale skin of her forearms, but her sheer presence and calm manners more than made up for her size and lack of color.

Olivia smiled. My name is Olivia. Come closer so they don’t hear us.

Hernando took position by the cell door and faced away from them. Try on the dress. I’ll watch for Murnau’s return. Be quick.

Valori picked up the gown and held it out for her. Take off what you have on and slip it over your head. I’ll do the laces.

Olivia did as she was told. You two haven’t told me how I can get out of this place.

I told you, Hernando said in low voice. You’re going to walk out of here wearing that gown. We’ll have to think of some means to get you away from the city once you’re outside this place.

We could mask her scent. Valori began lacing up the golden ties on the back of the gown. "I know of a potion that can make a young thing like this simply disappear in front of the Pure Bloods."

A scent-masker? Hernando grinned. Great idea.

Could you put it into one of these little bottles? Olivia pointed to the table. They look like perfume bottles to me.

Valori finished the lacing and stepped back to pick up the items. One of these bottles would work well, but how can we switch it without the Pure Bloods noticing?

Olivia wrinkled her nose. Hmm... You know, I don’t even wear cologne. It makes me itch.

That would do it, Hernando said. You tell Murnau you can’t wear his perfume, but Valori can make something equally pleasing. He turned around. His jaw dropped in surprise as he took in Olivia in the gown. You look beautiful.

Thanks. She twirled about the room, hoping to hide her blushing cheeks from his appreciative stare. The emerald gown flared about her gracefully. You really think I can waltz out of here in this dress and wearing a scent-masker?

Hernando laughed and took her by the hand and spun her about again. It won’t be easy, but you seem determined to make it work.

You will need others to help you. Valori grasped Olivia by the wrist and stopped their dancing. Be certain to wear the scent-masker on the night of the festival. It will save you.

Olivia’s head spun from both the twirling and the excitement of escape, but Valori’s tone held an undercurrent of deep concern that made her take notice. Don’t worry. I will.

They scattered at the sound of marching Overseers in the passageway. Hernando looked through the door’s opening.

They’re coming. Hernando jumped back as an Overseer barreled into the room. The door was flung open for Murnau to enter.

He gave Olivia a long, hard, lingering stare. The gown suits you well. He turned to Valori. There is no need for alterations?

"No, my lord, but there is a problem with the cosmetics."

I’m allergic to them, Olivia offered, but Valori says she can make me others that are suited to my skin type.

Murnau wrinkled his brow and twitched his nose like a rabbit sniffing an enemy. Is this true?

Valori bowed. Yes, Lord Murnau.

You cannot go without cosmetics? he asked Olivia.

These make me itch. I wouldn’t attend the festival without some makeup. I’d rather not attend if I couldn’t look my best.

That’s human females for you, Hernando commented under his breath. They’re always worried about their appearance. They won’t cooperate if they can’t look perfect on special occasions.

Murnau stared hard at his servant. Olivia observed the demon weighing the suggestion carefully. He seemed put out by learning such information from a lower caste inhabitant of BloodDark.

The old snob!

At last, he nodded.

Very well. Valori will make these cosmetics before the end of the time period.

Thank you. Oh, thank you! Olivia clapped her hands together. She couldn’t help but smile.

Hernando frowned and shook his head. He didn’t seem happy with her eagerness. Perhaps she was giving them away? She took a deep breath and calmed herself.

You are welcome, Murnau said. He turned to his Overseer. Escort these servants back to their duties.

Olivia stood motionless as Hernando and Valori left, but in her heart, she was already out the door.

Chapter Five

The hours dragged by. Olivia paced her cell and bit her nails. When would Hernando and Valori return with the magic potion that would make her invisible? All right, she knew it wasn’t an invisibility potion, but if it made her less sniffable to these people, who lived to sniff her, then she welcomed it.

She ate some supper but she couldn’t sit still. Finally, she gave up her pacing, shrugged out of her festival gown, slipped into her nightshirt, and crawled into bed.

Upon waking, she bolted upright at the sight of a new bottle on the table.

However did that get there?

I brought it.

Olivia pulled the blanket to her chin. Hernando?

From the shadows near the doorway, he appeared.

Olivia smoothed her sleep-tossed hair back from her face. How long have you been standing there? How did you get in here?

Hernando left his hiding place and approached the table. Not very long. I know one of the Overseers on duty during the rest period. We’re from the same clan on my father’s side.

He’s a friend?

Not really. We are clan brothers. He owes me a favor.

But the Overseers are a lot like Murnau, and he looks like a... She hated to say vampire, but what else could she call the ruling class of BloodDark? A cold shiver tingled down her spine. She tugged the blanket tighter around her body.

A sadness blazed in his big brown eyes at her reaction. Don’t be afraid, Olivia. I’m not going to sniff you.

"Whew! That’s a relief. Is your clan brother going to help me escape this prison?"

Hernando shook his head. He can’t go against the house he serves without suffering a severe punishment, but he did let me in to deliver the scent-masker that Valori created for you. You need to start dousing it on a little at a time. Tonight is the festival.

Tonight? Olivia jumped up and gathered her soap and toiletries. I want to bathe first before I put it on.

"Yes, that would be wise. You must put the scent-masker all over your body. You must cover the entire surface of your skin with it."

She gulped. Not just behind my ears, huh?

He nodded.

Will you be at the festival?

Only the Pure Bloods are allowed to be there. Hernando shrugged. I’m supposed to know my place.

"Murnau and his family, they’re Pure Bloods, I take it?"

Another nod.

So why am I invited? I’m not from this planet at all.

"That’s why you’re invited. He turned his face away. You’re the reason for the feast."

Olivia tilted her head and observed her new friend closely. You don’t seem very comfortable saying that I’m the guest of honor.

"It’s not what you think. You’re not a guest—you are the feast."

Say what? Olivia took a step backward. "You’re telling me that I’m on the menu?" She’d been right all along!

Not exactly.

Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest it was beating so hard. Explain it to me. Explain why they’re not about to perform a reenactment of the Donner Party with yours truly as the main course.

He slowly faced her. The Pure Bloods... they want your blood. It intoxicates them. It makes their festivities special. It’s why they brought humans to this world in the first place.

So they are vampires! No wonder I can’t get that idea of them being bloodsuckers out of my mind.

Another horrifying idea struck her. Hernando, these Pure Bloods? They’ve traveled to Earth before, haven’t they?

Yes, they have. Many times over, many hundreds of years in search of new blood for their needs. They abduct only a few humans at a time so no one grows suspicious, and the missing are assumed to be dead or runaways. Occasionally Pure Bloods have been seen and reported to authorities, but my mother told me that most humans think they’re nothing but creatures from mythology.

Super-creepy creatures at that! She shuddered then sighed. "But why take me?

Your blood is the most prized of all. His face reddened slightly. He averted his eyes. I heard Murnau talking about you. You’re young and a virgin. They can smell it. Your blood will taste a hundred times better than any other human’s—a thousand times better than any of my people’s.

Olivia’s stomach churned. Ugh! Why didn’t you tell me this before?

I wanted you to get your rest, that’s why. You’ll need all your strength to get away from them.

He was right. Knowing her captors’ true nature wouldn’t have helped her sleep at all.

If you’ll excuse me, I have to go now and get things ready. Hernando’s smile gave her hope. Valori will be here shortly to help you with your gown lacings.

Wait—don’t go yet. She reached out and touched his arm.

He stopped and looked down at her hand.

Olivia blushed and pulled it away. Sorry if I acted rude. I appreciate what you’re doing for me—risking for me.

Don’t be sorry. He took her hand in his and gently stroked it with his thumb before letting go. I have to go. Don’t forget what I told you about the scent-masker.

I won’t. I will see you again, won’t I?

I’ll be there. When the time is right, I’ll show you the way out of the feasting hall.

Hernando left her cell as silently as he’d entered.

Olivia followed his instructions to the letter. She bathed and applied the scent-masker all over as best she could, but it proved difficult. She couldn’t tell if she had applied it to an area or not. It held no scent or at least it held no aroma she could detect. Perhaps that’s how it worked? It was so subtle that only vampires could sense it?

What had Hernando called Murnau’s people? The Pure Bloods. Maybe without any scent whatsoever they’d have nothing to sniff, and without a good sniff... Well, Murnau seemed to enjoy poking his long, pointed nose in places where it didn’t belong.

I hope I stink to high heaven. No self-respecting vampire will want to drink my smelly blood. She laughed, but it sounded weak to her. No time to be afraid, she made herself eat the food the guards delivered, but it tasted even blander than usual.

Standing in front of the mirror, Olivia worked on her hair for an hour before the guards opened the cell door and Valori appeared.

Very pretty, the petite gray-haired woman announced. I do like an upswept hairstyle with a formal outfit.

The door closed and locked behind her. Obviously the Overseers trusted that the two of them wouldn’t get up to any trouble. Olivia grabbed the gown off the chair back and rushed to the older woman’s side.

Valori, do you know the real reason why I was invited to the festival? she whispered.

Of course, my dear. She took the dress and held it so Olivia could slip into it. Once it was over her head, Valori began to adjust and tie the laces.

You do? Why didn’t you warn me?

It wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.

Valori’s calm manner and soothing tone did nothing to settle Olivia’s nerves. Why did Valori and Hernando act like nothing unusual was about to happen?

You are a young and healthy virgin, a highly prized find, Valori continued as she laced up the back of the dress. The Clan naturally would want you for their feasting. Telling you about what fate awaited you wouldn’t have maintained your health. For one thing, it might have kept you off your food and prevented you from sleeping well.

You sound like Hernando. Olivia smoothed the skirt with her hands, relishing the soft velvet material. I don’t understand how you two can put up with these bloodsuckers.

Valori adjusted the last tie and took a step backward to see the final result. There you go. Shall I help you with your jewelry?

Olivia nodded. All right, but you didn’t answer my question.

The seamstress picked up the necklace case and removed the bracelet. I put up with the Pure Bloods because I am part Pure Blood myself, as is Hernando.

No way! Olivia pulled away just as Valori closed the catch on the bracelet. "But... but Hernando seems human. You appear to be human, too. You don’t look like Murnau or the Overseers. Their faces are more pointy to me. Their front teeth are narrow and