Trafficking in Pleasure

Seven children of all manners of disarray followed behind the tall forms of two well-dressed men as they paraded down the streets of the city. People noticed and watched the group, but no one dared speak up; the men could have passed as nobility and the sturdier of the two was obviously otherworldly—to be both nonhuman and of the aristocracy, he was quite feared by the people. Most inhuman beings were still being hunted and preyed upon, forced in to freak shows and dangerous and demeaning tasks only they could preform. Not Mr. Andersen, he was a force to be reckoned with. He wasn't part of a freak show, he ran a freak show, or rather, a circus, to be exact. Grand Ring Master Grimm Andersen, they called him, but he preferred to be known as Sir Andersen. Kyriliah called him Grimm.

“It's a nice group,” Kyriliah remarked as they headed towards the police headquarters. Sir Andersen provided the demon with many children after picking through them himself. If they were too weak or untalented for his circus, he shipped them off with the demon; humans were put in to the shipping lot, as he called it, right away. “Especially the red-head. We don't get many of them.”

“Yes, well, she's a handful,” Sir Andersen said, glancing back the girl. All of the children were tied by the wrists to a leash that Kyriliah dragged along, two lines of three with a girl with messy red hair at the end whose wrists were bound together. “A real rough and tumble sort of girls, she wouldn't stop scrapping with the other children. I just couldn't keep her around. I had hoped to dress her up like a little doll, too. She would be so lovely when cleaned up if she let her hair grow out. Wouldn't you like to see her play a marionette doll?”

Kyriliah chuckled, glancing at the other man, whose golden eyes twinkled at his own ideas. “It would be quite lovely. If you can find one better than her to offer me, perhaps I could be persuaded to trade her back once she's broken in. I know you can be a bit lenient with your training.”

Sir Andersen bristled at the mockery in his friend's voice, shooting him a glare. “You will find that nothing will tame her enough for my liking, sir. I would prefer to both look and act the role and I can assure you that won't happen.”

“Yore damn right it ain' happenin', ya freak!” spat the red-head, along the men didn't stop walking even as the children stumbled to look back at her and passerbys stopped. “I ain't doin' what no body tells me to do, 'specially not some ol' man who ain' even a human!”

“Oh, blast, she's started again,” he cursed under his breath.

“Don't worry, Grimm,” Kyriliah said, patting his shoulder. “She'll soon shut her mouth when we enter the station, I haven't a doubt.”

With the ginger girl still prattling on against her captors and freaks, the group crossed the road and continued a fourth of a mile until they reached the station, where they all went in together despite how sparse the area of the station office was. Andersen looked at Kyriliah expectantly, but he hadn't even had the chance to tell his head to turn before the demon had the girl away from the group and pressed against a wall, holding her up her throat.

Andersen, the children, and the station secretary watched in horror as the girl spat and struggled against the man's grip to no avail. Her face contorted in pain and there was a flash of horror in her eyes when Kyriliah began to mutter something, his voice a harsh and hushed tone that could not be understood by anyone else in the room. Whatever he said to the girl seemed to work, for when he finally dropped her, she hit the floor gasping for breath as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. None of the children could face her. None of them even bothered to help her up. As Kyriliah went to find the constable, it was Andersen who offered her a handkerchief and much to his shock, she took it with a thankful nod of her head.

Andersen found Kyriliah and the constable in the back of the station, inside a cell where a small cage housed a figure that crowded against the back bars.

“You have an eye for these things, Cobb,” Kyriliah praised the officer, knelt down by the cage to appraise the child. He was small and probably even smaller under all the rags he was wearing; he was filthy as could be, but his hair looked a brilliant blue and his skin was paler as milk. Most startling, however, were those eyes, pinker than a cat's tongue. The boy's eyes looked like that candy that had become all the rage recently, pink and sticky and far too sugary sweet. Kyriliah just wanted to strip the boy down right now.

He was obviously doing a good job of it with just his gaze, as the figure suddenly shot forward, hissing at him. “What are you looking at!”

Kyriliah didn't flinch.

“Be careful, Favelli. Gave one of my boys a nice scratch across the face earlier, he did,” said the constable.

“Yes, yes, I'm sure he did, your men have atrocious reflexes, Cobb.” Standing, Kyriliah turned his gaze on Andersen. “I'd like you to deliver your shipment to my estate for me. I want to have a bit of alone time with this one. You shouldn't have any trouble with the children on your own now, after all. I imagine little miss ginger will be more than obedient to your every command now.”

“Understood.” Smoothing his lilac hair back, Andersen turned sharply to leave the cell and return to the station front where he had left the secretary to keep an eye on the tied up children. He would be all too happy to get away from the station. The place gave him the creeps. He couldn't stand humans who enjoyed tormenting others; Kyriliah was a demon, so it never bothered Andersen, the things he did, but Cobb was a revered human of the law enforcement! It sickened Andersen that the man had no qualms over handing children off to enslavement. He was probably a part of one of those awful groups that dressed up in robes and sacrificed virgins and what-not, too. The pervert.

“I don't think your friend is fond of me,” Cobb observed.

“Nonsense, constable, Grimm was simply nervous. He's quite the fan of the depravity of humans such as yourself.” Kyriliah pushed Cobb out of the cell, nicking a key from his pocket at the same time. “As am I, of course.” He closed the cell to separate the two of them before turning back to the caged incubus.

“I'll let you out if you'll tell me your name,” he promised, holding up the key as he knelt down before the door. “Deal?”

“No,” the boy spot, glaring out at Kyrliah with those marvelous pink eyes that seemed almost dazed. “Why should I tell you anything?”

Kyriliah glanced back at Cobb before leaning in. “I can give you anything you want.” He glanced back again; damn the man for having this one thing he wouldn't agree with. “Even drugs.”

“Epitome.”

“That's your name?” he murmured, just to make sure. It certainly was a rather unorthodox name, but who was he to go around criticizing what children were named in the slums? The half of them were lucky to even have names.

Getting a glare and snarl in return, Kyriliah chuckled and unlocked the cage, stepping back to let the boy out. He stumbled a bit as he stood, his hands shackled in front of him. Scowling still, he held his wrists up expectantly.

“One step at a time, boy,” Kyriliah chided, turning his back to return to the closed door of the cell. “Here you are, Cobb. If you'll just give me the key to his shackles, we'll leave in due time.”

“What did you say to him?” demanded the constable, glaring up at Kyriliah. “You didn't offer to feed his addiction did you? You know how I feel about that. If I find out you have anything to do with this city's drug problems...”

“Of course I don't. I think it's just as nasty of a habit as having sex with a street whore.” The corners of his lips twitched up in a smirk. “Not that I'm saying anything about you, dear constable. I know you're a respectable man and the women must be swarming after you.”

Kyriliah watched Cobb storm back to his office before he turned his gaze back to Epitome. The boy had taken a seat on top of his cage, glaring at the demon's back. He would have fought him off, like he had tried with Cobb, but he could tell he was at the disadvantage here. Besides, he was promising drugs, wasn't he? Epitome didn't care how unlikely it seemed, it had been a week since his last hit and he was getting bad. Even now, he was shaking.

“Withdrawal's a bitch,” Kyriliah cooed, perching on the edge of the cage next to Epitome. He draped an arm around the boy, seeming not to care about the dirt that would no doubt stain his creamy white suit. At least it wasn't one of his favorite suits. “But don't worry, if you just cooperate, it won't be a problem any more.”

“I don't get what his problem is,” Epitome growled under his breath. “He'll sell off kids to you but doesn't approve of drugs? What a hypocrite.”

“Yes.” Kyriliah snickered and gave the boy's shoulder a squeeze. “That is the very thing which makes people interesting.”