Chapter 29 Noelle
NOELLE
The clang of heavy boots outside their cell jolted Noelle from the thin layer of sleep she’d managed to find after the three of them had lain back down. She bolted upright on the cold metal floor, her heart already thudding, breath catching.
Something about the sound wasn’t right. It wasn’t food being delivered and it wasn’t Lupin coming back with a smirk and another awful spa treatment. This was different…heavier…more final.
Bright sat up beside her, instantly alert, and Burn was already on his feet, his massive frame coiled like a spring.
Then the door opened.
A group of Skow guards filled the entrance, long rifles held tight in pale gray hands.
Their appearance was just as nightmarish as Noelle remembered.
Swathed in ragged black robes that looked like they’d been dredged from a battlefield, the creatures wore tarnished metal helms that obscured their faces—except for their mouths.
And those mouths… God.
Only the lower half of their faces were visible beneath the angular steel masks, but that was somehow worse than seeing the whole thing.
Their gaping, lipless maws stretched impossibly wide, filled with long, yellow-gray teeth like gnarled fingers.
Their gums were ashen and rotted, caked with dark, moldy sludge.
When the one in the front spoke, it was with a grinding, wet rattle that echoed in her bones.
“Prisoners. You will come with us.”
Burn’s eyes flashed red in an instant.
“The fuck we will.”
Bright jumped to his feet, one hand going out fast, bracing against Burn’s broad chest.
“Wait,” he hissed. “Burn, look at their rifles—those are molecular disruptors.”
Noelle’s heart nearly stopped. Disruptors. What did that mean?
She soon found out.
“Those things’ll turn us into clouds of dust,” Bright muttered. “They pull that trigger and we’re gone. Nothing left. Not even bones.”
Burn let out a low growl but finally stepped back. His massive shoulders heaved as he fought down the Rage he was obviously feeling, the whites of his eyes still glowing faintly crimson.
“Fine,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “We’ll go with you. But don’t fucking touch our female.”
The lead Skow made a creaking, mucus-wet sound that might have been a laugh.
“Come quietly and no one will be touched.”
Bright stepped forward, his jaw tight.
“Noelle, get between us.”
She was already moving, instinctively pressing herself into the space the two warriors made, their big bodies flanking her like living armor.
The moment she was tucked between them, Burn’s hand slid protectively across her lower back and Bright brushed his knuckles down her arm in silent reassurance.
The guards motioned with their weapons, and the group began to walk.
The corridor outside the cell was wide, but the cold metal walls seemed to close in as they moved. Every step echoed like a drumbeat, the sound of their bare feet and heavy boots clanging on the steel floor.
Noelle’s skin prickled. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the moment the door opened. Her mouth was dry, and her stomach was twisted into a knot.
Why did she feel like they were marching toward the edge of a cliff?
Eventually, the long hallway ended in a shuttle bay. A small transport vessel waited there—matte gray and boxy, with what Noelle assumed must be Skow symbols etched along the sides. The guards hustled them aboard, still keeping their disruptors trained with deadly accuracy.
Inside, the shuttle was cold and industrial—metal benches, dark walls, no windows. Noelle sat between Bright and Burn, her shoulders pressed into their arms. She couldn’t stop shaking, but she didn’t want to make a sound. It felt like if she breathed too loudly, someone would punish her for it.
As the shuttle launched, a single curved viewscreen flickered to life at the front of the cabin. And outside, Noelle caught her first glimpse of where they were headed.
A massive white structure loomed in the void—gleaming and sterile, shaped almost like a giant, multi-level shopping mall turned inside out. Endless air-tight windows gleamed along its flanks, arranged in neat rows that made her think of boutiques…of escalators…of department stores.
But instead of hope or comfort, the sight chilled her to the bone. Because this was no mall—this was the Flesh Bazaar.
And she and Bright and Burn were on their way to be sold.
The shuttle nosed forward toward a wide bay at the base of the structure, guiding them into a hangar that looked like the yawning mouth of some great mechanical beast.
Noelle held her breath as the ship landed with a jolt. The guards ordered them out, and once again, the three of them were herded—this time into a massive staging area that echoed with metallic clanging and low voices.
The back room of the Flesh Bazaar was enormous—a warehouse of sorts, all harsh lighting and cold tile underfoot. The air smelled sterile, like chemicals and burning metal. Noelle glanced around nervously, but there were no other prisoners in sight. Just more Skow guards and…
“Gods, look at that,” Bright muttered.
A new figure approached—unmistakably flamboyant, though Noelle couldn’t quite decide if they were male, female, or something else entirely.
The alien’s skin was a shimmering opalescent lavender—smooth and nearly translucent.
It was tall and willowy, wrapped in swaths of floating silver gauze that seemed to shift color with every movement.
It’s face was elongated—almost mask-like—with enormous black almond-shaped eyes and four symmetrical beauty marks running down each cheekbone, like constellations.
A towering headdress made of silver feathers and tiny flickering lights crowned their head.
When the alien spoke, it’s voice was lilting and musical—layered as though two people were speaking at once.
“Oh, lovely! Fresh meat for the auction! How divine.”
“Three prisoners for the Auction,” one of the Skow guards said, his voice a dead croak. “They’re to be sold as a trio. Dress them accordingly.”
“But of course,” the alien purred. “Come with me, my dears. We’ll get you looking fabulous in no time.”
Bright and Burn exchanged a look over Noelle’s head. She could feel the tension radiating off them and felt her own pulse spike with hope. The guards were leaving them alone with the alien stylist. Was this the moment? A distraction? A chance to run?
But the alien turned to the guards and clapped dainty, webbed hands together.
“Oh, but before you leave—let’s be sure they’re all controlled.”
Noelle’s heart sank.
The guards raised their weapons again as the alien floated toward a silver trunk on a pedestal and opened it. Inside, nestled in black velvet, were three collars.
Two were solid black metal, thick and utilitarian, with silver spikes spaced evenly around the edge. The third was completely different—a delicate silver filigree, almost beautiful, like an expensive choker.
The alien lifted the black collars first and stood on tiptoes to fasten them around Burn and Bright’s throats.
Noelle saw the way the big warriors flinched—saw their fists curl—but they didn’t move.
Then the alien took the third collar and turned to her.
Noelle swallowed hard.
“This one’s for you, precious,” the alien said, fastening the silver piece around her neck with surprising gentleness. “So delicate, don’t you think? Like a little decoration on the perfect package.”
Noelle didn’t answer but the moment the delicate collar clicked into place, she felt a chill run down her spine.
The alien stepped back and held up a small silver disc with glowing green buttons.
“Pay attention—this is the controller. One touch, and all three of your collars respond.”
They pressed a sequence of buttons—and then it happened.
Pain. Everywhere.
Noelle screamed as lightning shot through her nerves, her muscles locking tight. She collapsed to her knees, gasping, her whole body buzzing with unbearable agony.
Bright and Burn both roared—Burn staggering, Bright gritting his teeth—but they stayed standing, somehow.
The agony seemed to last forever. When at last the shock ended, Noelle lay on the floor panting, her cheek pressed against the cold tile.
“Blessed Virgin,” she whispered. Her whole body was trembling with the aftermath. She had never felt such all-encompassing pain—it was awful.
She reached for her own arm—just to ground herself—but the moment her fingertips touched bare skin, a smaller jolt shot through her. Not as strong as before, but still enough to make her cry out.
“Ow!” She jerked her hand away. Was it just some kind of aftershock? She tried again…and got another zap. “Dios! What’s happening to me?” she gasped. “Why can’t I touch myself?”
“Oh, sorry sweetie,” the alien said breezily, waving a webbed hand. “That’s an anti-self-contact collar. Can’t have you er, entertaining yourself before the big show, now can we?”
“What?” Noelle gaped at the alien. “How is just touching my arm ‘entertaining’ myself?”
The alien just shrugged.
“It’s standard. Don’t take it personally.”
Noelle felt sick—so now she couldn’t touch her own body in any way? Her skin felt like a live wire—like her body was now a trap.
Bright and Burn reached for her at the same time, each hooking a big hand under her arms. To her shock, their touch didn’t trigger anything—not a single shock or jolt of pain went through her.
Apparently they can touch me, but I can’t touch myself, she thought bitterly.
“Good, very good!” the alien chirped. “Now then, up we go. We must get you ready for the Auction. And no funny business, unless you’d like another taste of my little toy.” It waved the silver remote with a smile that didn’t reach its shiny black eyes.
And then it turned and swept toward a corridor on the far side of the room, its silver robes swirling behind it like smoke.
Noelle’s body still trembled. Her neck throbbed and her skin felt wrong. Every step down that sterile hallway felt heavier than the last.
What else is waiting for us in this place? she wondered.
And the bigger question was—would they survive it?