Do you have any idea what it's like to know the truth and to be unable to tell anyone? Such a momentous knowledge separates you from everyone- family, friends, society in general. You become completely isolated and alone, for the simple accident of finding something out that you did not even want to know in the first place.

People have foolish ideals. They think that everything works for the good, that even when awful things happen, there is a reason. If their life falls apart, it will only be a matter of time before it's put back together, before their luck changes or some hero shows up to rescue them.

I used to believe that, too.

Karalyn Farmer had a perfectly normal life. Of course, in the midst of it, it did not seem perfect; lives never do. But it was a good life. She lived at home with her mother and younger brother in a plain, mid-sized Midwestern town. They'd lived there since Karalyn had been born, even through her parents divorce and her mother bouncing from job to job. She knew people both in school and in her neighborhood, had a normal circle of friends.

She was intelligent, though she had far from won any academic prizes. School bored her. She found herself looking forward- as most youths do- to graduating and being able to get out of her small town and go on to something better.

Everything about her life was average, even herself. Smoky brown hair fell in loose curls to her shoulders, plain gray eyes were set in fair skin, clothes fell loosely around her curves. She and her brother Kieran- who was a year younger than Karalyn- did not always get along; in fact, they rarely got along. But they got by without much violence or drama. All-in-all, she didn't mind living at home.

"I can't wait until I graduate," Karalyn mumbled one day in the kitchen, helping her mother with dinner.

"Why?" Her mother snorted. "You're working all the time already."

"If I want a car, I have to work," Karalyn retorted. "What do you want me to do, Mom? Hang around here like a bum?"

"All I'm saying is that you could spend more time at home with us, Kara," her mother told her.

Karalyn snorted. "I'm sure Kieran would love that."

Her mother sighed, but the phone rang before she could answer. "Hello," she answered. "Oh, okay. Yeah, that's fine. I'll see you in a little bit." She hung up and looked at Karalyn. "Your brother's bringing a friend home."

"Whatever," Karalyn murmured, pulling the meat out of the oven.

Kieran showed up right as they were putting dinner on the table, in the company of a shifty-looking guy named Peter. Mrs. Farmer greeted him warmly enough, but she and Karalyn shared a suspicious look. Kieran was not known for choosing the best of company, and they could not help but wonder what he had gotten involved in this time.

Dinner was pleasant enough. They did not talk very much, but instead ate and looked at each other. Karalyn tried to get a measure of Peter, but he wouldn't hold her gaze. His eyes kept flitting about the room, as if they had a life of their own and were incredibly restless. They were red and bloodshot, she could tell, like he hadn't slept in days. She couldn't help but wonder what he was on.

"Are you staying home tonight?" Mrs. Farmer asked her son hopefully.

Her hopes were destined to be shattered. "Not tonight, Mom. Peter's friend's having a party."

"Oh?" His mother asked suspiciously. "What kind of party?"

"Just a party," Peter said quickly. He obviously had no idea how to put a parent's mind at ease.

"How far away?" Mrs. Farmer pressed.

"Like twenty minutes," Kieran replied. "Not too far. We'll be walking."

Mrs. Farmer frowned, clearly not liking the idea. "You know, your sister would probably like to go along."

Karalyn sighed. "I have to work in the morning."

Her mother gave her a look that was half pleading and half reproachful.

"But I could go for a little while," Karalyn added, resigned. Someone had to keep an eye on Kieran.

"She wasn't invited," Kieran began to protest.

"No, it's okay," Peter said with a small smile. "My friend's always glad to have more girls around."

That did not serve to make Karalyn any more comfortable, and she determined to be sure her mace was in her bag.

Peter seemed, to Karalyn, at least, to be more attentive after that moment. What that could be a sign of, however, Karalyn really had no idea. The stranger brushed his lips with his tongue, almost as if gripped by a tick. Karalyn's eyes snapped to him, but she could not see anything that would warrant concern, and wondered why the movement had so grabbed her attention.

"We should probably get going," Kieran announced, clearly anxious to be away from his mother.

Mrs. Farmer's face fell. "Alright. Be careful." She gave her daughter a look, silently charging her with the task of getting her brother home safely. Karalyn rolled her eyes; Kieran was at the age where, in her opinion, if he wanted to get in trouble it did not matter if he had a chaperone nearby. He would get into trouble.

The three of them left after Karalyn had taken up her jacket and purse, walking briskly through the neighborhood and into the thin surrounding woods.

"It's a good night," Peter commented, clearly not liking silence as his eyes flitted restlessly from shadow to shadow. "Nice and cool."

"This better be an awesome party, dude," Kieran announced, his arms folded across himself.

"Oh, it will be," Peter assured him, his tongue flicking across his lips again. Karalyn found herself staring at him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"No cops, though, right?" Kieran pressed. "My mom can't deal with me being arrested."

"Oh, no," Peter said, flashing a smile that looked, in Karalyn's eyes, to be rather forced. "No cops. Cops don't go where we're going."

Karalyn frowned, eyeing Peter suspiciously. "Where are we going?" She asked.

"You'll see when we get there," Peter replied.

"You're right, I will," Karalyn said, refusing to be moved. "But I'll know beforehand. Where are we going?"

"Kara, just chill," Kieran scoffed.

Karalyn ignored her brother, her eyes boring into Peter's; his tongue dashed across his lips once more, and he averted his gaze. "The party's in the valley."

Karalyn gaped at him, and even Kieran faltered in his steps. "The valley?" Karalyn demanded incredulously, looking from her brother to his strange new friend. "I'm not going to the valley."

Kieran forced of his surprise and gave an uncaring shrug. "Why not? It's just a party."

"No," Karalyn said, shaking her head firmly. "We are not going into the valley."

"What, do you believe the ghost stories?" Peter asked scornfully, his eyes still frantically searching the night.

"I believe the warning signs posted along the perimeter," she retorted, though they were still walking along. "I believe the cop who came to the school and told us all about the criminal trespassing charges. I believe the two kids in my class who went to the valley and never came back."

"So they ran away," Peter shrugged, a disbelieving look on his face. "What, do you think some kind of serial killer lives in there or something? We have parties down there all the time."

"Seriously?" Kieran asked curiously.

"Totally," Peter said. "We had one just a couple weeks ago. The cops are full of it, man. They never go into the valley. Not a single one of us has ever been grabbed, and none of us has vanished." He waved his fingers in the air to indicate a spooky vibe. And then they were there, standing before the chain rope, a large red and white warning sign hanging at waist level.

"It's not a good idea," Karalyn insisted.

"So go home," Kieran told her easily, ducking under the chain and smiling tauntingly at her from the illegal side. "What, do chicken? Go tell mommy if you want."

Peter looked at Karalyn expectantly, and she sighed, ducking under the chain with them. She had to keep an eye on Kieran, in the least. Any sign that things were getting weird, and she'd be the first one out.

They walked along down the slow decline, picking their way around brush as well as they could in the dimness. There was just enough light to see by, and Peter pulled an electric lantern out of his backpack, switching in on and holding it up.

Karalyn watched him carefully as they went, consequently stumbling on the uneven terrain. Something was not right about him. His eyes were too big, or his face too thin, or his mouth too wide. His tongue swept his lips again, and she blinked; she had seen it that time. His tongue was gray.

"What kind of party is this?" She asked, partially to break the silence and partially to ease the tightening in her chest. Something here was wrong.

"It's just a party, Kara, come on," Kieran sounded irritated. "If you're going to be such a baby then-"

Peter's lantern switched off quite suddenly, plunging them into nearly complete darkness, the light they had seen by just minutes before gone beyond the horizon. "What happened?" Karalyn asked, unable to help her voice rising a little in fear.

"I don't know," Peter replied. "The lamp just turned off…"

There were sudden noises around them, coming from every direction at once. Brush rustled, twigs snapped, heavy breathing was heard. Karalyn heard Kieran yelp, and then heavy, quick footfalls leading away from them. "Kieran?" She asked, her voice becoming more shrill with panic. "Kieran!"

Something covered her mouth and she jerked, pulling momentarily from the grasp of whatever it was and stumbling forward. She fell, her hands scrambling for the mace in her bag; Peter's lantern turned back on, hurting her eyes slightly as something picked her up off of the ground. She screamed, but her open mouth was covered by something soft like flesh but cold like metal.

"You're going to be quiet now," a voice said lowly in her ear, and a stink like something dead filled her nostrils. "No one can hear you anyway." The cold thing, which she assumed must be a hand, moved away from her mouth, but only briefly enough for it to be replaced with a cloth gag and tape. She tried to pull her arms free of the vice that held her wrists, but to no avail. Something rough and firm like rope wrapped around her wrists, and she was forced into a sitting position on the ground.

Her eyes darted frantically and she saw that Peter still stood there, electric lantern in hand, just looking at her. She mumbled something inaudible behind the tape, but he gave no sign of caring, let alone coming to her aid. Instead his gaze moved away from her face, to something beyond her. "Why'd you have to give 'em so much warning?" He asked, though his voice sounded far from demanding. "You could've had two, and I could've earned twenty."

"I don't deal in low quality," replied a low, rough voice, the same voice that had spoken into Karalyn's ear moments before. "The boy wouldn't have sold."

"Sure he would've!" Peter protested. "They're always looking for toys."

"He wasn't good-looking enough for a toy." Whoever it was stepped out from behind Karalyn, though in the light from the lantern she still could not see him well. He was tall, or seemed exceedingly so from her position; he wore old jeans and a dirty shirt, covered with a ling jacket. His hair was short-clipped and messy, his face pale and sharp in the harsh light and shadow cast by Peter's lantern. He looked imposing, frightening, even, matching his voice completely. "You know only the best boys are taken- that's why we didn't bother with you. Girls, though; they sell. This one's good enough."

Tears of fright and confusion were flowing from Karalyn's eyes. What was going on? What had happened? What were they going to do with her, and what had Peter had to do with all of it?

"You got my stuff?" Peter asked after a lengthy silence, still avoiding looking at Karalyn. "I need to move on to Marquette tomorrow, and I'm itching bad."

The frightening man let out a small laugh of something between pity and scorn, pulling a vial from his pocket and tossing it to Peter, who nearly fumbled his lantern in an attempt to catch it.

"This isn't ten!" Peter protested.

"Look at what you brought me!" The other man retorted. "A barely decent girl and a pathetic excuse for a boy who could have seen us and caused trouble? You didn't earn ten."

"But-" Peter began.

"Go!" The man yelled, but it was guttural, feral, like an animal's growl.

This was enough to jerk Karalyn out of her panicked stupor; she fumbled to her feet more quickly than she would have thought possible, taking off running. She did not care which direction she was going, so long as she didn't fall. She had to get away; that was all she could bring herself to think. She had to get away.

Within a moment something hooked the rope that bound her hands, stopping her so suddenly that she jerked, falling backwards; she did not hit the ground, though, as whatever it was also held her up. "Nice try," the strange man growled, sounding amused. "I've seen better, though. Let's go."

Karalyn cast a desperate look behind her as the man dragged her away, but Peter was gone.

--

She woke, unsure when she had fallen asleep, in a dimly lit cage. The walls were solid, unbroken by window or door, the only light she could see coming from a grate in the ceiling four feet above the floor.

Her head was pounding, her eyes watery as she looked around herself. There were several other people in the cage with her, of varying ages and types. More women seemed present than men, and none of the prisoners looked to be older than thirty. They were in varying stages of filth, most of them staring off into space with hollow gazes and resigned expressions. A few were glancing about themselves, confused, frightened and frantic as Karalyn did.

"Where are we?" Karalyn asked, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth there was a near-deafening thud from above them. "Quiet!" someone hissed.

"But I don't-" Karalyn began.

There was another thud and the grate opened, a man putting his head in. "Who's the talker?" He demanded. One of the other prisoners, without lifting her gaze from the floor, pointed to Karalyn.

The man reached his arm in, taking hold of Karalyn's hair and hauling her upwards. She screamed, kicking and waving her arms, not caring who she came in contact with. Her shoulder was bashed roughly against the edge of the opening as she was pulled through, but, seeing her chance, she turned her kicks and wild punches quickly to her captor.

He let out a slight hiss as her foot connected with his knee, dragging her upright and throwing her a good four feet away, where she landed with a crash to the hard wood deck they were on.

"Harvey!" Barked another man, trotting up the steps to stand facing Karalyn's abuser. "That's not allowed- you know how easily they break!"

"She kicked me," Harvey replied incredulously, as if he'd had no choice.

"You will not break the merchandise," the other man, clearly in charge, snapped harshly. "She's just a girl, for God's sake. Throw her in isolation if she's such a problem."

Karalyn thought for a mad, near-laughing moment that "throw" was most likely not the best choice of words.

Harvey scowled, picking Karalyn up by her hair once more, dragging her along the wooden floor and tossing her through a tiny metal door into a room that was nearly as small. Karalyn's head hit the far wall before her feet were through the door; she curled up, clutching her head in pain, as Harvey slammed the door shut behind her. It bumped her feet, and she regretted curling up. She was now unable to move.

It seemed like an eternity before the small door opened again. A hard hand took hold of her ankle, dragging her out into the open air; suddenly she could hear again, and her ears nearly cringed. There were voices, and engines running, and below it all a constant low hum that grated on her senses. She was hauled to her feet and pulled forward on what she now knew to be a stage, facing a crowd of about forty people who milled about, drinking and murmuring to each other, their eyes leaving the stage for no longer than a moment.

"Another girl," announced a man with a microphone as Karalyn's holder held her in place beside him. "Young, fresh, strong." The man leaned toward her, sniffing up her neck and smiling. "A virgin, boys."

Karalyn shivered, looking out over the crowd with obvious fear. Who were these people? It was quite obvious that Peter worked for them, luring unsuspecting victims into their grasp, but to what purpose? She was literally trembling in her captor's grasp, feeling sick and weak.

"The bidding will start at two hundred," the announcer declared.

Everything went too fast for Karalyn to follow. People in the crowd looked at her hungrily, men and women alike, but she could not decipher how the bidding was done. All she knew was that, after five minutes that felt like hours, she announcer ended the bidding, and she was being dragged off of the stage.

People reached out, brushing her with their hands, leering and even hissing at her as she was pulled by. She cringed away from them, trying to stay in the shadow of her holder. Nearly to the end of the crowd, she was thrust at another man, who caught her and held her steady with ease. "Do you need me to tie her up?" Her captor asked the new man gruffly.

"I think I can handle her," the man holding her assured the other. "Thanks." He handed over a pouch of something, and the guard returned to the stage.

The new man turned and inspected Karalyn for a moment; she considered running, briefly, but quickly gave up that hope. There were too many others surrounding them, and she didn't even know where she was. Without a word the man, who she assumed was now her owner, led her to a car and put her in.

Neither of them said a word; Karalyn tested the locks, but not only did it not unlock, but it made noise, causing her new owner to look at her reproachfully. They were in a full-fledged city, though Karalyn had no earthly idea where they were; buildings that looked to be up to twelve stories rose up around them as they drove the fully paved streets.

They were not in the car very long before the stranger pulled into a parking garage attached to what looked to be an apartment building. The man got out, circling around to Karalyn's side of the car; she tried desperately to open the door once more, but managed nothing. He opened her door from the outside, taking hold of her upper arm and pulling her along behind him.

"A new one, Brett?" Asked a woman behind a counter in the building's lobby. "You haven't had a new one in a while."

"I thought it was time for some spice," replied the man with a smile, then dragged Karalyn into an elevator.

"Help me," she mouthed to the other woman, but the woman just smiled knowingly at her and went back to her business.

The man, Brett, turned to Karalyn once they were in the elevator. "What is your name?" He asked her coolly.

She didn't respond.

"Alright," the man scoffed. "Let me present you with the rules. The first is that you are mine- you answer me when I speak to you, you obey my orders. I purchased you, and I take care of my property. I will not drink more of your blood than you can handle missing. I-"

"Blood?" Karalyn yelped, yanking out of his grasp in a moment of panic-fueled adrenaline and staring at him.

The elevator doors dinged open, and Brett smiled at her. "So you haven't figured out who we are yet," he said. Karalyn's blank, frightened stare must have answered his question, and he took her arm again, tugging her out into the hallway. He pulled out a key, going into an apartment before opening another door and thrusting Karalyn inside. "Louise?" He called.

"Yes, Brett?" Asked a woman from within. She was sitting in a rolling chair, in front of a desk, a pen in her hand and glasses perched on her nose.

"I brought home a new girl," he told her. "Brief her for me, please."

"Of course," Louise replied, and Brett left the room, closing the door behind himself. Louise looked Karalyn over. "You're fresh from the pen, huh?" She asked. "Come on, we'll get you a bath."

"I want to know what's going on, first," Karalyn said desperately. She needed to know what was going on. She had to know, or she would go insane. What was happening?

Louise sighed, turning in the chair. "You've been taken in by vampires," Louise said slowly. She did not go into specifics, knowing that what she had said already would be more than enough for Karalyn to take in.

Indeed, Karalyn was staring at her incredulously. "Vampires?" She demanded. "Are you kidding me? What's really going on?"

Louise just looked at her.

"It's not possible," Karalyn insisted.

"Think about it, sweetie," Louise pressed. "You were just auctioned off, right? Who else would buy you?"

"There are underground slave markets all over the world," Karalyn argued rationally, the ability to be logical steadying her for a moment, making her feel safe. "It's nowhere near unheard of."

Louise looked at her over her glasses. "How many slave markets have you heard of in America, honey?" She asked. "Let alone in the valley."

Karalyn frowned. "We're still in the valley?" She demanded. Louise nodded. "So… what do they want with us? The… whoever they are."

"The vampires, dear," Louise said. "Admitting it is the first step. They're vampires."

Karalyn found that extremely hard to swallow, but she nodded. "Sure. What do they have us here for?"

"For blood, mostly," she replied. "Some like bed-warmers, if you know what I mean. Brett's one of those. Not that he doesn't drink from me sometimes, of course."

Karalyn's blood chilled. So it was a sex-slave market. That's what she had been afraid of.

"Don't look so scared," Louise exclaimed. "It's really not as bad as you think, I promise. Most of them are okay. Kind of cold- literally and emotionally- but not too bad. It just takes some getting used to."

"I'm not going to get used to it!" Karalyn exclaimed. "I'm going to get out!"

Louise gave her a sympathetic look. "And go where, sweetheart? The whole valley's swarming with them, and none of us even know the way out of the city. You'd be back here within hours."

"Does vampirism come with superpowers?" Karalyn asked sarcastically. "I mean, these people have you convinced that they're fairy tales?"

Louise shook her head in pity. "Look here, honey." She lifted her skirt a little, showing Karalyn puncture scars on her legs; next she raised her sleeves to reveal similar wounds on her arms, even a set on her neck. "Yes, they have me convinced. You'll see, soon enough. I don't mean to scare you, but there's no avoiding it."

A wave of nausea passed over Karalyn. "They… they drank your…" She paled, feeling light-headed, sitting hard on the floor.

"Oh, dear, don't panic!" Louise exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Like I said, it's really not as bad as it's made out to be! Oh. Come on, a bath will make you feel better."

Louise lifted Karalyn, helping her into the bathroom and showing her where all the toiletries were. She took the razors out, though, knowing what new girls were tempted to do, and left Karalyn to bathe.

Karalyn emerged a short while later, clean and wearing the clothes Louise had left for her. "Better?" Louise asked in a friendly tone.

Karalyn nodded, eyeing the other woman carefully. She appeared to be in her mid or late twenties, with blonde hair and brown eyes. She was tall and slender, and looked altogether the opposite of Karalyn, who stood at barely five feet tall. Brett apparently didn't have a set type. "Could I get some food?"

Louise made an apologetic gesture. "Brett wants to see you in the other room- you can eat afterwards. We just don't want you getting sick; the first time can make you nauseas."

Karalyn's eyes widened, but she swallowed her panic down. These people were not vampires; they were just some kind of twisted freaks. Maybe she could reason with this guy- maybe she could even overpower him, if the adrenaline kicked in enough. Anything was possible.

Louise opened the door and ushered Karalyn out, whispering a word of encouragement before she closed the door again, leaving Karalyn alone in a room with Brett.

This room seemed to be the bedroom, though it was the first room one came into when walking in from outside the apartment. There were three other doors in the walls, which Karalyn assumed led to things like living rooms and kitchens, but she really didn't pay much attention to them. Her eyes were drawn to Brett, who stood easily a few feet away.

"Would you like a drink?" He asked casually, holding up a decanter of whiskey. Karalyn shook her head mutely. "Alright," he shrugged. "Would you like to talk a little? Loosen up, maybe? You look really tense."

I wonder why, Karalyn thought, and cleared her throat. "You know, if you let me go I wouldn't say anything to anyone," she told him quietly. "I'd just go home and say that I got lost down here or something. No one would have to know."

Brett shook his head, looking at her, seeming amused. "Nice try. But I can't do that."

"Why not?" She asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

"I think Louise explained it to you," he replied. "It would endanger our entire community. People don't look too kindly on us."

"What is this, some kind of cult?" Karalyn demanded, wiping her sweating palms on her skirt nervously. "Do they have you all brainwashed or something? Vampires don't exist."

Brett stared at her for a moment, then was suddenly by her side. She hadn't even seen him move, let alone cross the six feet of distance between them. "We don't, huh?" He asked lowly, leaning in to her ear. "Then explain what's wrong with me." Just as suddenly as he had come, he was gone, back across the room in the blink of an eye. His face changed, then; it seemed to almost stretch, his eyes going white and his jaw clicking audibly out of place. Fangs lowered from his upper jaw, making him look more frightening than anything Karalyn had ever seen. Horror movies could not recreate such terror, such grotesque change. It wasn't even all about appearance; his very air twisted, and she could sense malice and hunger rolling off of him. She took a step back, her eyes wide, her mind completely blank of everything except her own horror.

"What's the matter?" Brett asked, advancing on her. "We don't exist, remember? Just relax, it can't be real."

He was in front of her then, and she reacted before she could even think; she punched him square in the jaw, as hard as she possibly could. So hard, in fact, that the skin on one of her knuckles cracked and began to bleed, and Brett reeled backwards.

He put a hand to his face, clearly stunned. "Ow," he said simply, sniffing the air. "O, honey? That's a good brand." He stepped toward her once more.

She picked a lamp up off of a nearby table, holding it before her like a bat. "Don't touch me," she said, though her voice shook.

"You'll like it, I promise," Brett replied, still advancing.

Karalyn let him get to within a foot of her, then swung with the lamp; he caught it with a fair amount of ease, but she lashed out with her foot, hitting his kneecap with a good deal of force. He yelped, stumbling backwards. "Whore!" He exclaimed, staring at her.

"I'm a virgin, remember?" She snapped, pulling the lamp up before her again. A few more times he attempted, and each time she managed to successfully drive him away, once even biting his arm hard enough to break the skin.

Finally, panting and sweating, Brett stepped away from her and let himself slip into his normal self, his fangs retreating into his skull and his eyes and air returning to their normal quality. "You are so not worth the effort," he informed her, holding a hand to the wound on his arm.

"Good," Karalyn replied, breathing just as hard.

Brett cursed. "I wasted two-fifty on you. I'm going to have to give you away or something."

"Fine with me," Karalyn said, not allowing herself to lower the lamp, despite how tired she was. Brett was no stronger than a normal man, but he was faster than anyone she'd ever met. It was by pure luck that she'd been able to fend him off.

"I hate bad investments," Brett said with a glare, scowling fiercely at her. "Go back to Louise- I don't want to look at you."