Taking Karre Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Taking Karre

  ISBN 9781419923456

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Taking Karre Copyright © 2009 Michelle M. Pillow

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication August 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  TAKING KARRE

  Michelle M. Pillow

  Dedication

  To my wonderfully loyal readers for your continued support of my work.

  Thank you!

  Prologue

  Three weeks ago, Dimensional Plane 395, Adult Pleasure Centre VWH

  Because right now, in this moment, she was their fantasy.

  Karre marched out on stage in red stiletto heels, a slinky dress, big grin and nothing else. She kept tempo with the hard, drumming beat of music. Men hollered, whooping their excitement just to see her. She smiled at them, looking over the crowds of heads. She could make them do anything—beg, buy, steal, kill—because right now, in this moment, she was their fantasy.

  Blonde hair piled high on her head, garnished with a string of diamonds and rubies some suitor had given her. It was a sweet trinket, one she might even keep, not that she would remember who gave it to her or where the jewels came from. She traveled too much and had more important things on her mind.

  Karre turned slowly with her arms raised above her head. The hem of her short dress lifted to just below the curve of her ass. When her back was to the crowd, she bent forward. The cheering grew as the men got a peek of the naked treasure hidden beneath the clinging silver. What did she care if they saw her ass? Her pussy? Her breasts? They were just skin, flesh, a tool like any other. No matter how much they wanted her, they would never be able to touch her.

  On this dimensional plane of existence, humans cohabitated with humanoid creatures. The first time Karre saw a vampire sucking on the neck of a shifted werewolf, she’d nearly sprinted out of the room to find her wrist portal to flash out of there to another plane. The portable device looked like a large bracelet to most, but to Karre it was her sole means of survival.

  Necessity made her stay where she was. This portal was the easiest to get jewels on without resorting to thievery and the hard, shiny rocks were good for trade in nearly every dimension. Besides, not counting the dancing, being in Dimensional Plane 395 was like taking a vacation. With so many strange and different creatures, they never questioned anything she said and most were focused more on blood drinking and pleasure seeking.

  Being in a new dimensional plane was like being in your world, but only if had it evolved in a different way. To a point there were many similarities. Languages, generally, were relatively similar though for some reason the written word consisted of unfamiliar symbols. Some people looked the same, but were not the same people. Natural disasters and major human events were shared. Weather was the same and each place was still Earth.

  “I adore you, Sparkle!” a man yelled. “Marry me!”

  Karre turned to look over her shoulder at the crowd and winked. A plethora of large green horns, red flesh, reptile skin, webbed fingers, sharp fangs, and ridged flesh stretched out before her until the mass became a single entity flowing back and forth like a wave.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” the same voice answered her playful flirting. A rush of similar proposals followed the first, showering her in declarations of love. But she wasn’t a fool to believe them. What they felt wasn’t love. It was lust.

  Karre knew their adoration for what it was and used it to fuel her dance. She twirled and wiggled, thrust her ass toward them, drew her hips in seductive circles, only to pause in a sexy pose in time with the music. Slowly, she undressed, peeling the slinky gown off her body. Several lights flashed, illuminating her from various angles, leaving no curve unseen.

  Just flesh. Just a means. Just another job. Just another plane and soon a distant memory.

  Her smile widened, as she knew this was her last dance, at least for this trip,. The cheering rose, but she stopped listening. And then, it was over. Karre held still, letting the dying notes find their silence before walking naked from the stage.

  “You were wonderful tonight, Sparkle,” a new dancer fawned. “The crowd loves you. I was wondering if you’d show me how to—”

  “Is he here?” Karre asked, stopping the woman from starting a conversation Karre didn’t have time for. It’s not like she could tell the truth—that all her dancing skill was someone else’s memories uploaded into her brain by a device she bartered for on another plane.

  “He’s in your room,” the woman answered, frowning slightly at having her question dismissed. “And he brought a large case. I think it’s full of gifts so you’ll consider his suit.”

  “Perfect,” Karre grinned. Taking a long robe the woman held out, she slipped it over her shoulders. “I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  —

  Two weeks ago, Dimensional Plane 154, Stac Lesh Mansion

  Because right now, in this moment, she was the help.

  Karre stared at her red, curly hair in the liquid-silver reflection wall. It had been pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. The long skirt of the plain uniform and padded body suit did much to hide her figure under the thick gray wool. An apron, changed every time so much as a spot marred the pristine white, covered high over her chest and low to her knees. With the clothes and makeup to pale her face into an unimpressive mask, no one would look twice in her direction because right now, in this moment, she was the help.

  She had expected to keep her head down and do her job for months before coming back into this room. But in putting on the uniform, she became invisible. The rich people she worked for didn’t look in her direction twice. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. When the wife was gone, the husband had looked at her more than twice. A big grin showcasing blacked-out teeth and a very inappropriately timed belch had changed his interest quickly.

  Karre reached to touch her reflection. Behind her, the rich baby’s room spread out like the entrance to a palace. Gilded ceilings etched with clouds, golden rays of light and ridiculously cheerful fat angels stretched above as white marble stretched below. It was cold and unwelcoming and more than any one person deserved.

  “Oh, wonderful, finally, help,” the rich wife said, sweeping into the room. Karre didn’t bother to learn the lady’s name. “Rich wife” was much easier to remember. The woman held her child under the arms, away from her chest, as if contact with the baby would somehow ruin her carefully planned outfit. “Which one are you?”


  “Brigitte, ma’am.”

  “Take Cinny,” the woman ordered. “Mommy needs time to collect herself.”

  Karre suppressed her groan of frustration at being interrupted and stood to dutifully take the child. She cradled the poor creature close and walked it toward the crib.

  “Sing to Cinny before you put her down,” rich wife ordered, standing before the liquid silver as she brushed at her clothes.

  Karre stopped walking. Sing? To the gurgling, wiggling mass in her arms?

  “Well, Brigitte?”

  “Mistress, mistress, let me come in,” Karre sang the only childlike-sounding song she could think of at the moment, pausing to clear her throat. “I have the pence if you have a quim.”

  “What a pretty tune,” the woman said. “I’ve never heard it. What does it mean?”

  “My dad sang it to my mom,” Karre answered, letting the memories she had uploaded into her mind take over her personality—Brigitte of the Fallen Women, a whore’s daughter raised in a brothel, adept at blending into new environments. She left off the word “once” before adding the lie, “I’m not sure what it means.”

  “Carry on.”

  “Mistress, mistress, I’m stiff as a pin. I need your…” Karre continued, lowering her voice as the woman left her alone with the gurgling, oblivious child. Stopping, she laid the baby down and said, “Sorry, kid, it’s the only song I knew the words to. But I guess it’s all right. I turned out just fine with lots of jewels and pretty things and you’re too little to understand what any of it means. You should be more worried about growing up in this place with that mom of yours. Now, if you just be good,” she tucked a blanket around the infant’s body, “I’ve got a job to do.”

  Going back to the wall, Karre again reached for her reflection. She stepped forward, letting the liquid hit her hand. It stung, freezing cold in the warm room. For a moment, she hesitated, glancing back at the gurgling child. She thought about grabbing Cinny and taking the baby with her.

  “Sorry, kid,” she whispered, “even with that mother, you’re better off here.”

  It was a delicate balance—keeping her purpose in her mind while living out the personality and quirks of another—almost like having two people in her head. Karre’s hand met with the wall as she felt around, searching for the device she’d hidden. When her fingers met with a smooth, flat surface, she frowned. Putting a second hand to the wall she became frantic, sliding her palms in wide, searching arcs. Perhaps the adhesive she used had come loose. She bent her knees, crouching as she searched the bottom corner of the liquid reflecting wall. Her fingers were so cold it became hard to feel, but the molecular structure of the liquid kept the silver from trickling down her arms as it remained bonded to itself.

  Then, to her great surprise, warmth gripped her. A hand wrapped her wrist and jerked her forward. She was pulled through the wall, feeling the sting of silver before landing on a hard, stone floor. Gasping and shivering, she looked around the secret room. A wall of computing towers lined one side, next to three technicians silently typing away on their holographic keypads.

  “Lose something, Brigitte?” a man asked, coming close.

  Karre glanced up from the floor, “No, sir. I have nothing to lose.”

  “You are extraordinary.” The man laughed. Her eyes instantly took in the familiar insignia of the Divinity Corporation. “Finally, we meet.”

  Karre forced a grin she didn’t feel, letting him see her blackened teeth. Knowing what she looked like, she couldn’t help but wonder at his choice of words. Extraordinary? “I wasn’t aware we were destined to meet, sir. How lucky for me.”

  “I can assure you when I’m done with you, you won’t feel lucky.” The man leaned down, studying her face. He had the militant rigidity of a soldier, from the purposeful jerks of his body to the engraved frown lines around his mouth and eyes. His hard gaze bored into her, filling her with cold dread. She, or rather Brigitte, had seen that look in men’s eyes before. They were usually the kind to beat a prostitute the second they couldn’t get their pricks hard.

  “I’ve heard that one before,” she mumbled, pretending to be unimpressed.

  “I’m Director Tomes and…” he paused, lifting the small, wrist-wrapping device she’d been searching the liquid-silver wall for. Divinity had the only known source of top-secret inter-dimensional travel technology and they wouldn’t like the fact that someone had stolen it. “I have a feeling you know where I am from. It was very naughty of you to borrow our only portable jump prototype. Our scientists will be very interested in seeing how you got it to work. This device will make traveling to uncharted worlds much easier. No more carting around temporary portals. No more perfectly timed pickups from headquarters. No more rescue parties.”

  Less supervision so you can do more dark deeds, Karre silently added.

  “We’ll be able to explore planes at a much faster rate,” Tomes continued, as if it was a good thing.

  Just like an infectious disease.

  “Sorry, I’m not available for science lessons, but if you’d like to make an appointment, I’m sure I can fit you in,” Karre hummed in pretend thought, “uh, never.”

  “Oh, you’re going to be fun to break, my dear,” Tomes promised. “Talbert. Get her ready to go.”

  —

  One week ago, Dimensional Plane 25, Divinity Prison Hold

  Because right now, in this moment, she was in deep shit.

  “Sabina, Frannie, Marget, Sulon, Lo Li, Sparkle, Sunset, Twinkles, Saren, Mariska, Marisa, Ms. Pentafore, Lady Pentafore, Madam Pentafore, Domma Pentafore, Prima Pentaf—ugh,” Director Tomes sighed heavily, setting down his electronic clipboard. He leaned over, pressing his face close to hers to look into her eyes.

  The dank stone room surrounded her, smelling of stale air and dust and now the distinct odor of Tomes’ cologne—gun oil and sweat. Her throat tickled, had tickled for the last several hours, but she couldn’t cough, couldn’t swallow. Karre didn’t move. She couldn’t. All she could do was to try to block her thoughts from the director’s probing questions. Because right now, in this moment, she was in deep shit.

  “I’d be here for hours reading all your aliases. There are twenty-three Pentafores alone,” Tomes said quietly. Her eyes stayed fixed on him. Short black hair had been cut tight and neat to his head. Though wrinkles fanned from his eyes, his healthy physique gave him the appearance of youth and power.

  Director Tomes had her immobilized. Her arms had been tied, her legs cuffed with chains and a truth box affixed to her head. The device worked by inserting microscopic blades into her brain, causing the sensation of fire to explode into her skull. Internally connected to the machine, she knew exactly which images it pried from her thoughts. She heard and saw everything as it tried to project her secrets into holographic reality for the whole room to see.

  In theory, the box would project memories in response to the questions Tomes asked her. It tried to force the truth from the wearer’s mouth. In most cases, the device worked. In Karre’s case, she had told so many lies, lived so many lives, it couldn’t decipher her thoughts from her imagination.

  “Why don’t you just tell me who you are? End this suffering. We already know your real face, your real eyes, your real hair.” Tomes tucked a strand of her brunette hair behind her ear. “You’re such a pretty thing, too pretty to be caught up in this mess. Why don’t you end this? I’m really not a bad guy when you get to know me.”

  The last thing Karre wanted was to get to know Director Tomes.

  “You know most people have a seizure after having this,” he tapped the box, painfully jolting her head as he punctuated his words, “on for so long.”

  Karre forced herself to remember the time she’d roundhouse kicked an attacker in the side of the head. The image played out for Tomes. It was as close to a threat as she could manage without the ability to move or speak.

  Tomes stood, sighing heavily. “Fine, don’t give us a real name. Don’t tell us how
you got the prototype to work. It doesn’t matter.”

  Karre repeated the memory.

  A tech arrived next to Tomes holding a clipboard and whispered into the director’s ear.

  Tomes turned a sharpened gaze on her and smiled wryly. “Clever, clever girl. I see you’ve been to Plane 23. No wonder our truth box doesn’t work on you. You do realize you are dangerously close to scrambling your brains each time you implant someone else’s stolen memories into your head.” He grabbed her face, squeezing it in his palms. “How often do you use it? Do you even remember who you are?”

  Karre fought the answer to that question as it tried to crawl out of the darkened corner of her brain. Yes, she used the memory implantation device, but only to help her stay in character when she went undercover. When she changed herself like that, the truth of her goals stayed, but it became buried in the thoughts and speech and look of another’s life.

  Mistress, mistress, let me come in. I have the pence if you have a quim.

  Brigitte’s bawdy, childhood song echoed through her mind and she knew the box played it for her captors. The memory of being a child, hidden in the closet while yet another man sang that song shot through her. The technician looked shocked. Tomes chuckled. Karre knew that it wasn’t really her childhood, but she felt the deadness of Brigitte inside her.

  “Where you’re going, you won’t need a name or a past,” Tomes said. “You’ll just be some man’s property. Where you are going, we’ll always be able to come and get you, but you will never be able to leave. Have fun in Staria, sweetheart. They’re going to love a feisty little thing like you and I guarantee they will put you up for a role you’ve never played.”

  Chapter One

  Undesignated Plane Number, Outside Battlewar Castle, Staria

  Because right now, in this moment, she was a little cramped for space.