4. Belle
Belle
I’m yanked off the ship and paraded through the streets, Captain Dick-Fingers leading me at the front and a portion of his crew flanking behind us.
People part as we approach, wearing old-timey billowy shirts, ankle-length skirts, and bonnets.
It’s like I’ve been transported to the past, except of course, this isn’t the past, or an extremely realistic Renaissance fair, this is Neverhaven—a new world entirely.
A man with antlers clatters along beside me, and as I take a closer look around, I pick out even more oddities amongst the crowd.
Some people have features as subtle as scales lining their temples, while others have a literal horse face, but a human body. Yep, definitely not the past.
Captain Slimy-Beard never lets go of my collar, and tears pool at the corner of my eyes—the humiliation of being walked like a dog becoming too much.
I’m yanked to the left and pulled down a street away from the city center.
“Almost home, ma’lady.” Captain Dick-Head murmurs into my ear, his smile loud on his lips.
I could have learned his name by now if I paid closer attention, but I rather come up with my own variations. The insults suit him.
A large stone building, somewhere between a manor and a castle comes into view. My stomach twists into pretzels. The enemy I know seems less daunting than the mystery behind the iron-clad gates.
It’s quieter now. We’re practically alone. Just two tall and beefy men walking closely behind us. The rest of the crew must have broken off to barter, drink, fuck, whatever pirates do after a long journey.
The pathway narrows, changing from the rough pebbled road to a uniform stone, matching the walls of the upcoming building.
Trees cage overhead, providing shade and drowning out the sounds from the town behind us.
We approach the gate, impossibly tall with vines crawling up the intricate designs of the bars.
“Captain Hickory, ’ere with the Lord’s special delivery.” Oh, so that’s his name. I guess I’ll stick with Captain Dickory. I suppress my laugh at my internal joke. Now is not the time.
The gates open, and when I step into the expansive courtyard, I realize no one waits at the other side. I doubt they have an intercom system with an electric fence. In a place like this, it seems less likely than just magic.
Captain Dickory leans down to my ear, his whiskers scratching the side of my face as he pushes me forward, his hands still clamped around the collar, digging into my neck.
“Now be on yer best behavior. Lord Pan paid a pretty penny to bring ye here. Sent his blood in a vial across the realms to have ye bound to his estate. Ye don’t want him to think he has to house train his newest prize. ”
I try to elbow him in the groin, but alas, I’m still unable. I throw a “fuck you,” instead. Thank God I still have my verbal fight. Even if he just laughs at my anger, I feel much better getting it out.
We’re fast approaching the stone manor, my feet slipping on the slick cobbled road leading to the enormous wooden double doors.
Green roses line the perimeter, and a fountain sits at the center of the circular walkway, a mermaid blowing water from her white, marbled mouth.
Large windows cover the expanse of the stone face.
It reminds me of the Biltmore in South Carolina.
I’d never been, but I remember seeing it on video in school.
I was fascinated that such a grand building could be visited today.
I always wanted to go, but never had the means or the reason.
Now, it looks like I’ll be residing in my own fucked-up version of that fairytale.
The large door creaks open, revealing a man.
I expected a grotesque form. Perhaps a spindly gremlin with claws and fangs, but as the white-dusted blond smiles at me, his green eyes catching alight in the setting sun, I’m rattled.
He’s older, perhaps in his early fifties, but he’s undoubtedly handsome.
His gold cufflinks and rings, stoned with green gems, sparkle as he moves closer to us.
I don’t know the hierarchy of fashion in this fantasy world, but it’s obvious his ensemble screams wealth, especially compared to my captors’ stained and scratched garments.
“Welcome!” the man shouts, opening his arms wide.
Captain Dickory stops, dropping my chain against my collarbones, stepping to the side to bow. “Lord Pan, always an honor.”
The man places a hand on his shoulder, completely ignoring me.
“Now, no need for stuffy pleasantries, you come bearing my heart’s desire.
” Lord Pan’s eyes finally draw on me, widening as he examines.
He steps back, bowing, taking my hand, and bringing it to his lips.
“I knew you’d be beautiful, but you’re truly a marvel. ”
I have half a mind to pull away, snap at him, act like the animal he views me as, but I’m not stupid. He seems civilized, rich, and probably naive—wealthy people almost always are. Perhaps if I play along, I could gain my freedom. I remain silent and unreadable.
“My, you must have had a long journey." He stands to the side, presenting the manor behind him. “Please, come in. Welcome to Hollowbrook. Welcome home.” His words sound so sincere, as if he truly believes I could find a home here, as if I wasn’t stolen from my world and forced to his gates. I don’t believe him.
I don’t trust him. But I can’t help the hope boiling at the base of my stomach.
“You must be exhausted from your travels. I’ll show you to your rooms first.” Lord Pan smiles at me before turning to lead me through the opulent entryway, light streaming in through the high windows, catching on the crystal chandeliers and creating prisms of color that reflect off the walls.
The childish part of me wishes for clicky heels instead of worn boots so I can hear my footprints across the shiny, spotless crème flooring.
The sound would ground me, remind me that I’m actually here and not reaching a deeper chasm of a nightmare.
Captain Dickory has removed his meaty paws from my collar, but he hovers closely, his smell mixing in with clean pine. The captain grabs my shoulder and halts. “Ey, perhaps we should discuss payment first?”
Lord Pan laughs, deep and rich, and presses his hand on Dickory's shoulder. I don’t miss his fingers tensing, even if his face still holds a casual smile.
“Don’t worry, chap. We’ll get all of that sorted while the lady freshens up.
It looks like she’s been through quite a fright under your care.
” His eyes shift, once lush green gardens, now alligator scales.
“Ey,” is all Dickory can muster, the last remnants of the word cracking.
A part of me preens that I’m able to witness someone intimidate my captor. I grin at Dickory, wanting him to see my triumph at his failure. He grimaces, pushing me forward once Lord Pan turns back to the palace before us.
I’m led up winding stairs and through more hallways, decorated in rich wallpapers and golden candelabras, before we stop in front of a pair of ornate double doors. “Here’s where you’ll be staying,” Lord Pan says, pushing them open.
I take in the large space. The green-quilted comforters match the upholstery of the couches and chairs scattered around the room.
Large windows let in a wave of sunlight over the rich furniture.
Fresh flowers rest on every bare surface.
It’s gorgeous—far nicer than any place I’ve ever laid my head.
It seems like an awful lot of work to set up such a grand space for me just to harvest my blood.
Perhaps I’ve got this wrong. Maybe Lord Pan wants to keep me as a prized pet.
I still don’t like the idea, but it makes the urgency for my escape less pressing.
I can’t be naive, though. This is the real world, regardless of how unreal it feels.
People don’t hire pirate crews to travel across realms to kidnap women just to keep them as decoration.
I can’t allow myself to get too comfortable.
But god damn does the large oak bed with green silk canopies draped over the banisters look comfy as hell.
Pan opens another set of doors to the side.
Inside is a seating area in a similar style.
Three women bow once we enter. “Ladies, this is Belle Barnes, the last living pixie and newest resident of Hollowbrook.” He turns to me.
“Belle, these are your handmaids. Rosalia here is the head maid and will see that all your needs are met.”
A strawberry blonde with an intricately waved hairstyle and a high-necked pink dress steps to the front, bowing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Belle.”
I still haven’t talked since arriving at Hollowbrook, and I don’t plan to anytime soon, not wanting to let my voice betray my still undecided mood. I nod instead.
“Ladies, let’s get her freshened up and ready for dinner.
” He gives me a curt nod before turning from where he came.
Captain Dickory stands at my side, not clenching my collar anymore, but I can practically feel his fingers aching to do so.
Once Pan reaches the door, he stops and speaks without turning.
“Captain, I suggest you follow me. I assume you’ve heard of my reputation, and I promise you it’s undoubtedly true.
” A shiver washes through the room, and Pan turns his head, green eyes pinned on the pirate, his mouth set in a straight line.
“Yessir,” Captain stutters before scrambling after him, resembling a frightened seagull.
My head lightens with his absence. I worried I’d never be rid of the smelly pirate, or some sort of blood exchange must happen for him to trade me off to my new owner, but it seems the rules of my captivity are already programmed on the thing.
This magic fucking sucks and makes zero sense.
As if they’re relieved as I am, the three women take an audible breath once the bedroom doors shut behind the two men. They flock around me, their hands over my face, my clothing, and my hair. They cluck disapproval in whispers, and I’m too shocked and confused to even push them away.
Rosalia steps before me. “My, you must be a long way from home. Don’t worry, we'll take care of you.”
“What strange clothing,” the short brunette says, peeling the strap of my black tank top off my shoulder.
That snaps me out of it. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back off!” I yell, stepping away.
“Ms. Barnes, we don't mean to offend. It’s our job to dress you for dinner tonight.” The blonde woman bows.
Rosalia steps closer, taking my hand in hers. I try to pull away, but she grips harder. “I know this is all strange. I can’t imagine being taken from my world and thrust into someone else’s, but I promise we mean you no harm. We are here to serve you, lighten the load.”
I yank my hand out of her grasp. “I don't want to prepare myself for dinner. Pan may think he bought me, but I won’t allow myself to be dressed up like a fucking toy poodle. He can have me in my filth.”
Rosalia steps closer. She’s a head taller than me, staring down as she runs a finger over my collar.
I should be creeped out, but I’m disarmed by her beauty, her blemish-free skin, and her green eyes that seem to pulse with a current.
I catch her collar, looking around her to see the other two women wearing them as well.
“I noticed you didn’t enter kicking and screaming.
You remained quiet. You’re smart. You’re not the first woman to come to Hollowbrook unwillingly.
The Darling won’t allow you to enact much of your rage, but if you play your cards right, you might be able to survive. ”
She doesn’t mention anything about freedom, only survival.
I can’t help the achy feeling rolling over my bones.
I want to go home, to my shitty Earth with predictable rules and outcomes.
But it doesn’t seem like that’s something I can manage just yet, perhaps never.
She’s right, though. Survival comes first. She could be a pawn in Lord Pan’s game—a tool to keep me docile, but why would he need that when my collar—or Darling—already does the job.
Perhaps these women can help me. I guess letting them strip me from my grime and doll me up wouldn’t be the worst choice.
I sigh. “Fine. Make me pretty.” I throw my hands to the side, too exhausted to dance my way around this anymore. Besides, I’m fucking starving. If the only way I’ll be allowed dinner is if I look presentable, I’ll let these women bleach my asshole if need be.
The two ladies charge me, the blonde toys with my hair, and the brunette yanks off my rags. “You’re already beautiful,” the blonde says. “The Pans will adore you when we’re done with you.”
My eyes grow wide at her words. Pans. There are more of them?
Rosalia stands behind the women, locking eyes with me. “Don’t worry, Ms. Barnes. We’ll prepare you for the men.”
Although she means the words as a comfort, I’ve never heard anything more chilling.