Dark & Familiar

Chapter 2: White Owl

What came next was a surprise. When it was my turn to be sold at auction, I was shoved center stage, a spotlight fixed on me. Like the redhead, I reflexively covered my groin, feeling awfully exposed, as I waited for bids to roll in. But there were none.

No paddles rose to my defense. At first, I thought it might be due to my modesty, as I had seen the redhead cover herself just before she was summarily executed. So I moved my hands away from my manhood, hoping to generate some interest.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to help. Still no paddles were raised.

That's when I realized vampires, being immortal, had probably seen it all. Big, small, I wasn't even sure where I fell on that spectrum. But the lack of bids might be some indication.

I looked into the crowd, pleading with my eyes, silently begging one of them to purchase me. Surely some vampire out there could have use for a man-slave.

The auctioneer spoke in his strange, indecipherable tongue, but I didn't need a translation. I knew what was going to happen in a moment. I looked at my feet where I knew a golden spike might lift at any moment, and shoot up, piercing my vital organs.

I closed my eyes and gulped. Waiting for the inevitable. I only hoped that my death would be faster than the redhead's.

But the end never came. The auctioneer's voice suddenly shot off, rapid fire. I opened my eyes to find, to my surprise -- a raised paddle.

A woman in the front row wearing a white owl mask held a paddle marked with the number 124. I didn't know yet what the number signified. Maybe it was her age. Maybe it was just a randomly assigned number for the auction. I was just glad that it meant I was going to be bought, and by such a beautiful vampire.

Beneath the white owl mask, I could tell she had dazzling eyes, fine features, and an exquisite body. Not that it should matter. I was probably never going to get to touch her. She was probably just buying me to drink me dry and leave my bloodless body in a dumpster. But a man can dream.

I was imagining a whole host of unrealistic fetish scenarios when a second paddle was raised. The auctioneer's mouth was off to the races again, presumably pointing out to the beautiful white owl with paddle 124 that she had just been outbid by another vampire.

I had to squint, peering into the dark audience through the bright spotlight with difficulty. The second paddle had the number 101, and it was held by an oversized man wearing the mask of a cyclops. His body was roughly the shape of a bullfrog. I did not know vampires could be so ugly.

What did he want with me? I certainly did not want anything to do with him.

I suddenly found myself hoping that the white owl purchased me. If I was going to be killed, I'd rather die in the arms of a beautiful woman. Even without my memories I remembered I was shallow like that.

More paddles were raised, different numbers. Paddle 769. Paddle 9009. The process was nerve-racking but I considered myself lucky to be generating some interest. But why I was suddenly in-demand, I couldn't be sure, though I suspected it had something to do with the white owl. No one had any interest until she had raised her paddle.

The auctioneer's voice could barely keep up as more bids continued to flood in. It seemed I was at the center of a bonafide bidding war. As paddles battled, my price must have soared higher and higher, because some of the audience that had been going back and forth, began shaking their heads, and stopped raising their paddles.

After several minutes of this, almost all of the bidders had dropped out. Only two still remained. Paddle 124, the white owl and paddle 101, the cyclops.

It was hard to keep up with who was winning. They bid back into each other over and over. As soon as one paddle rose, the other followed. Both of them were dead set on owning yours truly, locked in a duel to own a man they had never met.

Now, the white owl had the high bid. And for a moment, it seemed that the cyclops might have had enough. Maybe I'd get lucky after all.

The cyclops paused long and huffed while the auctioneer rattled off noises that seemed to be closing out the bidding.

But at the last second, the cyclops raised his paddle again, standing up out of his seat defiantly. He was clearly taking a stand, and he wasn't backing down.

The white owl wasn't either. She simply smiled and lifted that familiar paddle 124, and they were back at it, dueling paddles.

I admit, at this point I was properly flattered. Having people fight over me felt good, even if they were just fighting over who would get to kill me. I was actually excited to see how long it would go on, and I had a morbid curiosity to know what price I would fetch.

How much was I worth? A thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand?

I didn't want to stroke my ego too much. But it would be nice to know how much my life was worth before I died.

Then, the pace changed, and just as unceremoniously as the paddles rose, they fell and rose no more. I could tell the auctioneer was calling out for final bids.

In all the excitement, I realized I'd lost track of who had the high bid. Was it the white owl or the cyclops? Paddle 124 or 101?

Then the white owl stood up and turned to look at the cyclops. She said something to him in that sophisticated and vain language of the vampires. The cyclops nodded in response, and the auctioneer said his final word, closing out the bidding on my life.

It was over.

But who had won?

I tried to ask the question, but I couldn't, still under the effects of their compulsion. Instead I grunted in confusion while a million questions ran through my mind.

Who won? Who won me? Who do I belong to?

Then the white owl turned to me and spoke in a language I did understand.

"Do you know what it means to be a familiar?"

I shook my head.

She smiled darkly, "I will show you."