Ceres House had been written on it in holographic print, along with an address. Everyone had heard of Ceres House whether they actually believed it existed or not. It was said to be a secret place for the wealthy and well-connected where almost any desire could be fulfilled — for a price.
It wasn't easy to believe they wanted her. She had a beautiful enough face, but not exceptionally so, and her body was a little too lean from missed meals. The thick, dark hair that flooded around her shoulders in messy waves and curls was probably her best feature, along with expressive eyes that were the color of shined mahogany.
But she was also small, details delicate, with small hands and a slight
build, even absent the near-starvation. And she only seemed even more undersized next to the graying Alpha who seemed to have experienced no depreciation in strength or musculature despite his advancing age.
She was created like an Omega.
And that would be worth something to a man like this, who traded in fantasy. The money she could make with one night would be enough to feed her family for a year.
The Whoremonger moved away to lean against the desk. His hands were clenched in his lap with legs crossed neatly at the ankle, casual, as if he sensed her weakening.
"You said I could get half of the payment now?"
"Half now and half on completion of the contract. To protect all parties involved, of course."
Leda cleared her throat against the knot of fear that tried to steal her voice.
"When would I resume?"
His teeth glinted in the low light when he bared them in a smile like a crocodile's.
"There is no night like tonight."
Her heart beat hard against her chest, the sound so audible that she was sure he could hear it. She thought of all the things that those credits could buy — water, food, pills. It was ten times as much money as she would earn in a year working at the Diner. She momentarily entertained the fantasy of going back to the college, maybe even getting a job for Central Command after graduating. There was nothing elegant about life as a bureaucratic drone, but she'd make enough to live in the middle levels above the hovels where at least the air was breathable and clean water ran from the pipes when you turned the tap.
Two thousand dollars were enough to change her life.
But was it worth the risk?
"Can I have that stylus?"
The Whoremonger held out the sleek writing tool with manicured fingers that seemed starkly clean against her much grubbier hands. The tips of their fingers brushed for the smallest second and she looked up into his face.
His smile was preying. "You won't be sorry."
She already was sorry, but the attraction was impossible to ignore. There was no other legal way for her to earn an amount like this and credits were the only ticket out of the hovels.
Leda held the stylus for a moment, trying to force the tremble from her hand. Blood rushed through her ears, loud enough that she couldn't hear the Whoremonger's words as he continued to speak to her, although the cruel twist of his lips was almost enough to distract her.
Her name came out shaky and jagged as she slid the stylus across the glass surface. Signing herself away.
The Whoremonger swiped across the screen, just as she made the last little flourish, and the contract vanished, leaving the screen blank.
An expression crossed his face that was in mockery of a smile, equal parts covetous and threatening.
"Welcome to Ceres House, my dear."
"Leda!"
The tone of Cythia's yell tore her attention from the grimy window. She had been watching the encroaching darkness of sunset creep across the garbage-filled street outside their apartment.
She could still hear the Whoremonger's voice drifting over her, even though it had been hours since she left his office.
"Hush," Leda whispered, pointing to the small pallet where her younger brother, Argus, slept. The narcoleptics they had given him were not enough to eradicate the raspy quality of his breathing, but they were the only thing that relieved the pain enough for him to rest. It would be impossible to get him back to sleep if he woke without providing another pill that theycouldn't afford.
Cythia glared down at her, eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me to hush. Are you
ready?"
Leda shrugged, ignoring the obvious disapproval that rolled off her sister
in waves. "If that's even possible."
Cythia sneered. "I still can't believe you're doing this."
Clasping her cheek against the cold glass of the window, Leda sighed. "I
didn't realize that I had a choice."
"This is dangerous." Cythia glowered out into the night. "I shouldn't have let
you talk me into it."
Leda combated the urge to roll her eyes. Cythia had been a willing accomplice from the beginning. She had been the one to present herself at the medical testing station, using Leda's identification card, to have the lab work done.
It was her test results appended to the contract that had just been signed.
"Maybe we should try to get the payments in some other way. Maybe there's something that I can do."
Leda bit her tongue on a sharp retort. There was nothing she could say that would be fair. She continued to stare out the window but shifted her gaze to take in her sister's reflection, protesting off the sense of despair that always existed in the background of her thoughts.
They looked very much alike — not identical, but similar enough to be mistaken for one another as children. But Cythia was damaged. An accident
over the cook stove during childhood had robbed her of what would likely
have been considerable beauty and covered the upper part of her body in
ravaging scars, including her neck and the right side of her face. It was
possible to hide the worst of the damage with the flowing scarves she kept perpetually wrapped around her head, like a Sh'islim convert who covered for modesty, but she wasn't fit for a duty job. No shop owner wanted her to be the face of their business. Nerve damage to her hands from the fire made manual labor impossible, and that was the only other kind of work available in the hovels. So it was left to Leda to support them. Only the three of them were left now, a family half-formed. Alphas were responsible for every bit of the devastation. She had been born in the middle levels, her father a Beta sergeant in the logistics corps. Her mother had been Omega, and beautiful. A ranking Alpha had taken a liking to her mother and when her father had resisted, the Alpha had slay both of them.