Thanks to everyone who left reviews and feedback! Based on some things in this chapter (Christine's age) and Barb's suggestions (Barb, I totally spaced on the fur trade, thank you!), I'll soon make a few changes to Chapter 1.
The characters are inspired by Leroux's POTO but original to this AU story.
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The men in the parlor leered, and she cast her eyes to the floor. They reminded her too much of hyenas, ready to attack. The candlelight reflected their preditorial gaze. The outbursts of barking laughter had grown in volume.
The other women who worked nightly in the front helped egg the men on. They poured drinks to run their tabs up, laughing at their terrible jokes and pressing their bodies to them. Touching them in a way that no longer shocked her.
Christine was on edge, and that made her body naturally stiff. She hoped they'd not want anything to do with her if she did not move. She had read somewhere if being hunted by a beast, it was best not to move, or it'd give chase. Preditors pursued. The pursuit was what made eventual capture all the more exciting. The last few aortic pumps pushed the blood carrying the remaining oxygen to the top layer of flesh, which made the poor creature even sweeter.
Her hands trembled, and she clutched the thin material of the lingerie she was told to wear for the night. Edgars, the owner of the brothel to whom she owed an outstanding debt, insisted she make herself look younger, more innocent. Even after submitting herself to a humiliating examination by a doctor who frequented the establishment, Edgars was afraid the men bidding wouldn't believe her to be a virgin on account of her age. Marla, Edgar's wife who sat at the piano awaiting orders to begin her awful accompaniment, had helped with this. She was provided with only white and cream-colored items. The goal was only partially achieved as it was impossible to hide her womanly figure. Christine knew no one would believe her to be under nineteen at most. Before tonight, she'd never worn anything this revealing in her life. It was one step above being utterly nude, as it only covered the delicate parts of her. A shiver of cold fear went up her spine.
Christine jumped as Edgars took her arm, and men barked out in laughter. A slurring voice commented, "Wonder if she jumps like that in the sack." She took several deep breaths sucking in the hot putrid air of sweat, smoke, and alcohol, forcing herself not to faint. She had to go through with this. The first time only happened once, and then it'd be over.
Edgars leaned into her ear, "Keep looking down low like that, and that's how much you'll fetch for that puss of yours." She hated to admit it, but he was right. A timid smile and fluttering of the eyes could go a long way, but she still couldn't move. His greasy hand squeezed her shoulder, "You faint on me, girl, and I'll still let them fuck you for the right price." A prickly, cold sweat broke out all over her body. Patting her back, he chuckled, "Might be good for you, too. Some pay extra for that sort of thing." Her bowels felt loose with a gut-sinking feeling.
Edgars put on a big smile and raised his arms. "Gentlemen, lads, please settle in. It's time we've got things moving, don't you think?" The crowd erupted with noises of approval.
During rehearsals in the daytime, the older woman played too slow or in the wrong register. This forced Christine to compensate during the pieces, straining her voice, she quickly learned not to care. The people here were here for a different kind of entertainment. After a few nights in the early days of her stay here, she was shown to the patrons as the newest addition, who just arrived from Sweden and was eighteen. Both were lies. Christine being a singer was just a bonus the couple lucked into and decided after tonight, in addition to being a lay, her other duties would include singing. The couple thought a trained singer would give the place "a touch of class" to compliment the new paint. When Marla learned of her virginity from the other girls, the couple schemed up the auction, as it would give them credit for being able to procure virgins. Christine had nothing left to give away except one thing, so she agreed to go through with the dehumanizing experience. For her, it was the fastest way to pay off the debt she accrued for Mama Valerius's care at the hospital. The alternative was debtors prison, and Mama Valerius would be on the street.
"Gentlemen, this here is our fetching young beauty from Sweden. And I mean new in all the right ways. Having just turned eighteen, she is fresh as freshly fallen snow," a chuckle ran through the crowd, and Edgar smiled, pleased that the innuendos he had up his sleeves were landing. "Untouched by any explorer, her peak not reached."
A man in the front yelled, "And what of her summit?" Another rumbling of laughter.
Christine wanted to drop dead right then and there. Her face burned, and Edgars used the opportunity, "Would a girl who's been trampled upon blush such as this?" Tears sprung to her eyes, but she refused to cry. Hold fast.
'Hold fast,' her father told her as a little girl. It was her first time on a boat. They boarded a ship, leaving their homeland for France. The afternoon had been clear, and she was excited for the trip. She'd never been on a boat before, and her father had a knack for always making things seem better than what they were. The storm rolled in without warning, rocking the ship horribly, and her fear made her sick. But her father held her close in his protective embrace and whispered, 'Hold fast, my darling girl, it'll all be over soon. Hold fast.' Christine had no idea what it meant, but it sounded right. When it was all over, and they were safely on land, she asked what it meant. After that, it was theirs. When things were hard, which was often growing up on the road, he'd whisper to her, 'Hold fast.'
With a broad smile so wide that one could see his gold molar, Edgars bellowed, "Gentlemen, I present our newest addition, our little Swedish Songbird." Marla began to play in the wrong key and then self-corrected. Christine counted in her head but still missed her cue.
A gruff voice said, "I'll give her something to sing about." Howling laughter followed.
The song Marla had chosen was a jaunty romp that was popular and sung in all the music halls. It was gay, but Christine felt anything but that. The song that came to mind was something different. At first, her voice was low but grew in volume, silencing the remaining sounds of mockery. Her eyes were still cast downwards, but she sang. The tone was grave because she was dying inside, but she thought the song would make her brave for what was to come. It was possible none even knew what she was saying. She sang in the ancient tongue of her homeland, a song that, as a babe, her mother would hum to her. Later, her father sang it to her while he played violin.
Though she could not speak the old Norse tongue, the song she knew. It was a ballad about a maiden who is the sole survivor of an attack upon her village. She steals an enemy ship to sail ahead to warn the chieftian to prepare for war. But a treacherous fog hides the stars, making it impossible to navigate the seas. Instead of succumbing to defeat, she prays to Njörðr, offering herself to him should he disperse the fog. He does, and she follows the stars. The maiden succeeds in her mission, thus saving her people. Keeping her promise, she sails to the middle of the ocean to Njörðr. However, the sea god is so moved by her loyalty and love for her people he releases her from her oath. Njörðr keeps the skies clear for her so that she may follow the stars back home.
She was reaching the end of the song. Summoning all her courage with unshed tears, she bravely gazed upon the beasts, but beyond them was something else. What made her stumble over the last bit of the song were a pair of glowing yellow-gold eyes. Never had Christine seen eyes such as them before; they reminded her of stars against the night sky. The man was hidden in shadow. The song ended in a silent room; no one said a word. None had expected that from her. Then, in the most unbecoming fashion, the crowd erupted with applause, hooting, and hollering. Edgars winked at her, "How lovely she is, gentlemen." Christine felt ill all over again.
Edgars started the bidding, "Gentlemen, I can start at no less than one thousand." From there, the price went up. There was shouting and more crude remarks at her expense. The wave of frenzy that ran through the room frightened her. The hyenas were ready to rip her apart.
"Do I hear two thousand one hundred?" Edgar's beady eyes darted about. A man with a bloated face raised.
Then, from the back, Christine heard a strong, beautiful voice unlike any other as it called out over the snarls, "Four thousand." She gasped; the amount was astounding.
The group turned. The voice was from the shadow with golden eyes. Edgars was stunned. "Four thousand, sir?"
The eyes narrowed, "You heard correctly."
"No, of course, sir. It's just the other gentleman here who wanted a chance—" Edgars stumbled over his words like a fool. Christine had never seen the shrewd businessman blink over the most detestable negotiations, and here he was babbling, "It's really not fair, sir."
There was a rumble of agreement from the other men, but the Doctor chimed in, "No, I agree with the man Edgars. I know she's a prize and worth every franc. Those who had the notion this sweet girl would fetch a lesser price are fools," He pulled down his glasses briefly to look at the men around him. "And I say should have his eyes examined by a doctor." There was laughter amongst them, easing the tension.
Edgars bowed his head in supplication to the crowd, "Anyone for four and one hundred?"
The price continued to climb, excluding many of the other clients. While Edgar's eyes bounced between the few who could continue, Christine's kept finding their way back to the stars.
The horrid Doctor, who had, while inspecting her virtue, promised her he'd be her first, signaled to raise again. She had to force her bile down. The other was an older man of some means with his son, around fifteen. She imagined that the father wanted to buy her for his son. The boy was blushing as much as she had been before. Christine thought it might not be so terrible to be with someone just as inexperienced, but his being a boy made her uneasy. Or the father wanted her for himself. From her brief time here, she learned not all men or women, for that matter, are what they seem.
Christine felt a tiny sliver of hope as Edgars continued, "Seven, anyone?" The higher the number, the less she'd owe the couple.
A dandy in a tailored suit with an oiled-up quaff of hair waved his hand. Christine didn't like the look of him; his handsome face could not hide the malice in his eyes from her. He'd been around the place before, and she heard from the others what he liked. Even the more experienced women there didn't care for his attention. The thing he enjoyed was cruelty. And even if she had not known his pastimes, she believed she'd still know he was full of bad intentions, for his eyes were dead. She had no desire to know what he had in store for her.
"Ten," the shadow raised the price again. She could only discern his eyes; based on that, she knew him to be tall. What light there was could not penetrate any details of his person. The brim of his top hat, which he still wore despite the warmth of the room, hid all but his eyes. He was a black ink spot that somehow landed against the back wall, perfectly out of reach from the glow of the gas lamps. Instead of cruelty in the shadow's eyes, there was a ravenous hunger and something else. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She could not look away from them like the maiden in the ballad gazing upon the stars to find her way home. Then, she discerned the other emotion in the eyes. She was very familiar with it.
Christine had seen it in her loved ones' eyes throughout her life. It was a deep melancholia that never disappeared, even on the most joyous occasions. Her father's sadness stemmed from the loss of her mother. For this reason, she always tried to make him happy and behaved well. But still, his smile could not hide it from her. It lingered even after they found patronage from the Valerius's. Then, when her dear Professor Valerius learned that a large portion of his wealth was lost in the crash of '73. Despite Valerious's efforts, the couple never recovered. From then on, he carried sorrow deep in his heart. Her father even prepared for them to leave, hoping to ease the couple's burden, but Mama Valerius would not hear of it. They economized, selling what they could and moving to a smaller flat. Professor Valerious took on more students even during the summers in Perros while her father played his violin night and day. Darling Mama Valerius caught it when she'd catch herself not remembering, losing time.
The father grumbled in defeat, but his son appeared relieved. Nine thousand francs had been reached. It was an endless round of spit-fire bidding between the Doctor, the young dandy, and the shadow, driving the price to soar to twelve thousand. The Doctor slammed his drink on the table in frustration. He bowed out of the bidding war; her virtue had exceeded his pay grade. All the patrons were silent, waiting on edge to see who'd have her. Fifteen thousand. The dandy was becoming agitated, but the shadow showed no signs of wavering.
Despair took root within Christine when Professor Valerius passed. A few short years later, her father succumbed to his ill health; his cries of pain would haunt her till her own death. Then, witnessing dear Mama Valerius slowly fade into a helpless old woman. And there had been nothing she could do to stop any of it. It didn't matter if she was sweet and well-behaved. Her despair had been in full bloom for a long time now. Perhaps that was why she did not fear the shadow, for she saw a bit of herself in his shining eyes. Staring at the two stars in the back of the room now was like looking in a mirror.
Twenty thousand. A collective gasp went through the room. Christine would've fallen had she not been gripping the piano for support. That amount covered all the debt plus interest she owed and then some. She was actually going to make a small profit on her first turn. Christine would be able to pay for Mama Valerious's continued care at the hospital for the next month.
Edgar's beady eyes nearly popped out of his skull. The dandy who sat in the front was red-faced with anger and turned to glare at the shadow. Marla, who was also in disbelief, elbowed her husband to continue.
Clearing his throat, Edgar piped up, "Twenty thousand going once, going twice." He looked to the dandy, who shook his head with a nasty scowl. "Our little songbird is sold to the gentleman in the back."
Christine exhaled a shaky breath as a new wave of dread filled her. But still, her eyes were tethered to the stars, for they had not strayed from her the entire time. Njörðr had kept the line of sight clear.
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I'm hoping to add a chapter every two weeks provided my current daily schedule remains chill.
Reviews and feedback are always appreciated :)
© 2024 V. Loveburn
