Waking up on a cold, hard floor was not Macy's idea of a good morning, especially when she didn't remember falling asleep on one the night before. Waking up in strange places with no memory of how she got there wasn't entirely unusual. While her fiction of a normal life had her working as the average, careless college grad working as a receptionist at a doctor's office, the reality was anything but normal. She was a creature of instinct, but her instincts were always most in tune after taking in mass quantities of alcohol. Though she never knew entirely how it worked, it always did.
Last night she was contacted by a man who was pale as snow, almost passing for albino were it not for his crystal gray eyes. He was looking for a girl. It was imperative that he find her before it was too late. He didn't go into much detail, but Macy was used to this kind of thing. Whenever someone went missing the assumption was often that something horrible was going to happen. More often than not it turned out that the missing person wanted to disappear all along.
This time was different. The person in question was a young woman who had no apparent identity at all. She had done her background research, but it seemed this girl just spontaneously existed about five years ago. The girl's background was completely obscured so even those pursuing her history by supernatural means were thrown off the trail. This child went suddenly missing three years after she was found. No reports were filed or anything. Just as mysteriously as she appeared, she had disappeared. Now someone who claimed to be related was looking for her. While Macy didn't have much hope, it at least proved to be a case with potential to be interesting.
Macy's whole body was screaming. She must have been there for quite some time to be so stiff and rigid. She picked herself up and looked around the room to try and get some sense or remembrance of where she was. The floor was pale marble tile. It appeared to be some kind of reception room, white couches, white drapes on the windows, everything almost glowing in the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains beneath the drawn drapes. Straight ahead of her was a reception desk. The seat behind it held a petite vixen of a woman who barely offered Macy a glance.
"What is this place?" she asked as she approached the desk. "Where am I?"
The receptionist sneered, not looking up from the papers on her desk. Macy had to repeat the question before she got a response at all. In a dry, unamused tone the woman replied, "You're in the market. I would suggest you state your business or leave. You're lucky I didn't report you for your little episode earlier. Dramatically fainting on our floor is normally not acceptable behavior. You're pretty enough, so I didn't bother to report you."
This got a raised eyebrow from Macy, but she thought better of asking what being pretty had to do with anything. There was more important work to be doing here. "Where can I get into the market?"
The receptionist actually looked up at this. She turned back to her papers and answered, "You can't enter. You're human."
"Of course I'm human," Macy stated as though it were the only logical possibility. It was, wasn't it? "What does that have to do with entering?"
"You could enter, I suppose, but you'd do so at your own risk."
"What's that supposed to mean? What do they sell in there?"
"Do you really want to know?" At this the receptionist turned to Macy and smiled sweetly. Something about the false innocence in her dark brown eyes did not comfort Macy in the least.
"Yes," she said hesitantly, wondering if somehow she would regret asking. She usually did.
"People." The receptionist seemed rather amused to give this answer. It wasn't clear whether her response was truthful or not. "We are in the business of selling humans. Stick around. I'm sure you'd fetch a lovely price with those baby blues and that blond hair."
Something about that woman's voice told Macy she was telling the truth. While things like this seemed the stuff of movies, Macy knew they were far more of a reality than anyone wanted to admit. Most of the time they were nothing more than a collection of prostitutes renting themselves out, but every now and again they were something more. It was rare, but there were some known markets that kidnapped people to sell into slavery. There was even a club downtown where members of the S&M scene would buy and sell their slaves, though a majority of the community frowns upon such behaviors. Still, Macy had long ago learned that sometimes it's best not to question.
Feeling like something was left unresolved, Macy decided it was best to leave. She didn't want to risk getting mixed up in one of those rings. There was too much risk involved. Even so, something had drawn her there.
Stepping out into the alley way was almost shocking. While the inside had been bright and pristine, the door lead out into a dingy, dark, dirty alleyway. The sun couldn't possibly be coming in through the window as she imagined. The building next door was blocking all the sunlight. Turning to face the door behind her, it was nothing but a small, metal, rusted backstage kind of an entrance. She thought she had remembered the door being an elegant...well...something. She couldn't entirely remember.
It was strange, but with each step away from the building, she forgot more and more details. At first she talked herself down on the idea of the sunlight through the windows. It must have been fluorescent lights. It wasn't clean and white either. It must have been more dingy. The beautiful vixen of a woman became some old and frail looking woman to her mind. Before long she was remembering it as some seedy dive of a brothel hidden away behind some shop or another, she wasn't even sure which one. Come to think of it, she couldn't even remember what she went there for.
Suddenly remembering that she would be late for work again, Macy thought it best to hurry home and change. She was supposed to come in during the afternoon, and if she hurried home to get changed and shower she should make it just in time. Before she even realized where she was, she had already come down the steps to the subway station.
Searching for her subway card meant practically turning out her pockets. Digging through her pants pockets she found a collection of random things. There was a small collection of coins, a couple of bills, some random business cards, and a hair clip, none of it terribly useful. Her jacket, however, turned out to be much more useful. The card was in her inner left pocket, wrapped in a couple pieces of note paper. Curious, she looked at the papers.
The outer one read:
You've forgotten everything that's happened tonight, I'm sure. This is the way they wanted it. They don't enjoy being caught by mere mortals. Whatever you do, don't go back there. They won't likely let you leave the next time.
It wasn't signed and the handwriting was unfamiliar. It didn't trigger any thoughts, sensations, or memories. In truth, the whole thing felt empty. Usually Macy could pull some kind of memory, or at least some vague feeling from things, but this was different. It felt completely unfamiliar.
The second note was much shorter and in a very familiar hand. It read:
Note To Self: I've found her. They have the girl.
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