Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

" T here she is," Freddy yelled excitedly as the battered blue hatchback came into view.

He jumped down off the swing he'd been pushing back and forth disconsolately and raced towards the pick-up lane in front of the school. Willow breathed a sigh of relief and hurried after him. Freddy's mother was a nice enough woman, but she was completely disorganized and lived her life in a state of constant panic. This wasn't the first time that she failed to pick up Freddy on time.

Freddy's mother came rushing around the car as he approached, bending down to give him a big hug. She fastened him into his car seat before turning to Willow. She looked as frazzled as she obviously felt - her t-shirt ripped, her joggers splattered with paint, and her hair falling out of her messy bun, but there was something appealing about her helpless air.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Harper." She gave Willow an apologetic smile and waved at her pants. "I was trying to freshen up the back porch, and I'm afraid time just got away from me again."

"I understand," Willow said quietly. "But Freddy does worry when you're not here on time."

"I know he does." Big eyes filled with tears. "I promise I'll try and do better. Thank you for not sending him to the office to wait for me."

Willow really didn't mind waiting with the boy, but she didn't want to encourage his mother's behavior either. She settled for a non-committal smile.

"I hope the two of you have a good weekend. Bye, Freddy," she called.

He grinned at her, a cheerful smile now covering his small face, and waved back.

She watched the car drive away, then sighed and returned to the school building. Her friend Martha was locking her classroom as she walked down the now empty corridor, and she rolled her eyes at Willow.

"Let me guess. Freddy's mother was late again," Martha said disapprovingly.

Her friend had a kind heart, but she ran a tight ship and didn't put up with any nonsense. Her opinion of Freddy's mother was not favorable.

"I'm afraid so."

"And I suppose you didn't take him to the office so that she had to go in and pick him up?"

"I didn't want to leave him there by himself. You know how much he worries."

"The secretary would be there," her friend said sternly. "And as long as you keep taking care of him, his mother isn't going to change. You're just too nice, Willow."

"Is there such a thing as too nice?" she asked a little wistfully, and Martha laughed.

"There is if it means you're being taken advantage of. Are you leaving now? I'll wait and walk out with you."

"Not yet. I want to tackle my classroom before I leave. The children are really excited for Halloween, and they'll be thrilled to come in on Monday and see the room all decorated."

Martha sighed.

"It's Friday night. You're young and pretty. Why aren't you going out on a date instead of decorating a classroom for a bunch of five-year-olds?"

"Because no one asked me?"

"Only because you discouraged them." Martha pursed her mouth disapprovingly. "We both know that Tom would leap at the chance to take you out."

Willow winced, trying to hide her distaste. The new gym teacher had definitely made it obvious that he was interested, but they had absolutely nothing in common. He was a too-hearty former quarterback with a loud voice who saw everything in terms of sports metaphors.

She'd much rather decorate her classroom, then go home alone, pour herself a glass of wine, and pick up one of her favorite books.

"I'm not really interested," she said apologetically, and Martha's eyes narrowed.

"Are you waiting for a knight in shining armor to come along? Because I have to tell you, there aren't many knights out there."

"I don't need many, I only need one."

Her friend snorted, then shook her head.

"Don't wait too long. Men like Tom won't wait forever, and once they move on, they're not likely to look back."

"That's fine with me," she said firmly.

Martha laughed again and told her good night before heading down the corridor. Willow watched her go, then returned to her classroom, thinking about her friend's words. Was she waiting for a knight in shining armor? Maybe she was. After one too many experiences with a frog who didn't turn into a prince, she'd decided it was better to wait for the right man to come along.

Although she did occasionally wonder just how long she would have to wait. Given that she was a kindergarten teacher in a small town, she didn't have a lot of opportunities to meet new men.

Someone will turn up , she assured herself, and started pulling out the boxes of decorations that she'd been working on for the past two weeks, smiling at the friendly ghosts and the cats with the witch's hats. Her students were going to love them.

Removing everything from the bulletin board, she covered it with orange paper and set to work. By the time she was finished turning her classroom into a Halloween wonderland, several hours had passed and the early fall dusk had already set in. Now that she was no longer moving around she was conscious of the heavy silence surrounding her. Even the janitors tended to leave early on Friday nights. Time to go home.

A chill suddenly crawled down her spine as she gathered up her tote bag, as if a cold breeze had entered the room. Frowning, she turned towards the door and froze. Someone, no, something was standing in front of the closed door. A tall, thin figure - too tall and too thin to be human - with gray skin and large dark eyes above a small pointed chin.

An alien?

Her mouth dropped open in disbelief as she searched desperately for another explanation. She tried to tell herself that it was just someone wearing an early Halloween costume, but the shape of the body was wrong. Unnatural.

"Who - who are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What do you want?"

The alien didn't respond, just moved towards her with a fluid, predatory grace, and her heart began to pound. She instinctively backed away from the approaching figure, but then her back hit the wall and she started to panic.

The alien calmly raised some kind of device, and a beam of light shot out, pain spiking through her head. As she started to crumple towards the floor, thin, cold arms caught her, and then everything went black.

The sound of voices woke Willow. Two men, arguing. She hated hearing people argue - it brought back too many unpleasant memories - but there was something different about these voices.

Her memory suddenly came rushing back – her classroom, the alien – and her eyes flew open, but her vision was blurry and unfocused. She could tell she was lying on something hard and unyielding, and the air filled with unpleasant, medicinal scent.

Where am I?

She blinked desperately and a white metal ceiling slowly came into focus, illuminated by a harsh white light. She tried to turn her head, to see more of the room, but her body was stiff and unresponsive. When she opened her mouth to try and call for help, all that emerged was a faint whisper.

Panic clawed at her throat as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. She tried frantically to move her head again, and this time she was able to turn it far enough to see more of the room. It reminded her of a doctor's office, except she didn't recognize most of the equipment.

There was a monitor on the wall next to her. She thought it had words displayed on it, but they were in no language she'd ever seen before. The lines that scrolled steadily across the screen were more familiar – like vital signs on a hospital monitor. Have I been sick?

She tried to sit up and one of the lines spiked in response to her attempt.

Her arm started to respond to her efforts, then jerked to a halt. To her horror, she realized that both of her arms had been cuffed to the surface of whatever she was lying on. She tried to move her feet and discovered that her ankles were also restrained.

Oh God, what's happened to me?

Fighting down a wave of panic, she tried to make out what the men in the other room were arguing about, hoping for some clue. Although it sounded as if they were speaking English, there was something odd about their voices - a subtle undercurrent that made her suddenly suspect they were really speaking another language.

"You should not have woken her," a voice said, a whispered sibilance beneath his words. "Nor given her the translation implant."

"Why not?" The second voice was harsher. "I'm bored and tired of waiting. I want to have some fun."

The way he said fun sent a shiver down her spine.

"You are not paid to have fun," the first voice said coldly. "You are here for transportation purposes only. My client has very specific requests - which I have fulfilled - and those requests do not include a damaged product."

Client? Product?

"I'm not going to damage her," the second male said sulkily. "I just want to play a little."

"Your idea of play ruined the last female. Fear is one thing - most of our clients enjoy a frightened slave. However, they do not want one who is terrified and too traumatized to react. Not to mention the fact they dislike any sign of previous use."

Slave? Panic threatened to overwhelm her. This can't be happening. It has to be a nightmare.

Forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths, she tried to calm her racing heart even as she pulled harder against the restraints. Her body was responding more easily now, but her struggles were useless. The cuffs weren't painful, but neither did they yield to her efforts.

"It's not as if she's a virgin," the second voice grumbled.

How did he know that? Had they examined her – or done worse? She shuddered at the thought, but thankfully, her body felt normal, with no unusual aches or soreness. Hopefully that was a good sign, along with the fact that she was still wearing the colorful skirt and blouse she'd been wearing earlier.

Earlier… How much earlier? How long had she been unconscious? The fact that she didn't know threatened to bring on another wave of panic.

"Her physical state is irrelevant. Your kind of use leaves marks, and that is not acceptable," the first male said coldly.

The second one continued to argue, but their voices grew fainter, as if they were moving away from the room where she was being held. She hoped that meant the first male wouldn't allow the second one access to her. There was a sadistic note in that harsh voice that terrified her.

A faint whirring noise caught her attention and she looked frantically over at the door, but it remained closed. The whirring noise came again, a little louder this time. It seemed to be coming from close to the floor, and she craned her head, trying to look down.

A rolling cart of equipment suddenly began to move silently along the wall, revealing a metal grate covering what appeared to be a ventilation shaft. Then the grate slid to one side and a pair of bright yellow eyes peered out at her from the shadows beyond.