Journey of a Girl

The Auction: Chapter Four

It wasn't possible.

It wasn't right.

As foul as the towns was, Credence would have gladly taken her chances there rather than leave with John.

John, who she'd left to die in a puddle of blood.

Who was looking at her with malicious satisfaction.

I can't be alone with him, she thought.

How did he get into the towns? How did he know where to find her?

He walked in, she realized, like any other human, hidden in plain sight.

And he bought her.

He dared her with his eyes to stop him.

Credence's body wanted to faint, to drop her into the darkness to escape the horrible reality surrounding her.

But she couldn't allow it. She couldn't give John a moment alone with her while she was unconscious.

She might never wake up again, so she fought to remain alert. She thought of trying to run. At worst, they would catch her and pull her before the Chopper. Would it really be so bad to die now rather than later?

Credence was taken by an unknown man and lifted off the edge of the stage.

At the front of the crowd, John was waiting.

The masked man had already moved to the next prisoner up for bid, but several pairs of eyes continued to watch Credence, and their owners pointed and whispered as she was brought to their level and placed before her purchaser.

A length of rope was wrapped around her wrists, but before handing the reins to John, the one who tied her wanted a word.

"Payment in full before she's yours," the man grunted.

Without taking his eyes from Credence, John pulled a bulging leather bag from his cloak and handed it to the man, who lifted and lowered it several times, suggesting he could sense its worth by weight alone.

He opened the bag and plucked a golden coin at random to test with his teeth. Satisfied he had not been slighted, the man offered the rope to John.

"Follow me to the clerk's table. We'll get her papers signed and you can be on your way—unless there's another you have your eye on?" John shook his head. "Very well. This way."

John pushed Credence ahead of him, and she could feel his stare on the back of her head, and his growing eagerness to get her away from the crowd.

As they neared the clerk's table, a familiar voice stopped them.

"Credence! Over here!"

It was Rose, leading her keeper by the hand. Mistress Cinder had a sour look on her face, reserved for John alone, and the woman made sure to stand a little too close to him once they reached the table where a spectacled man sat behind a brass scale.

The bag of coins John had paid was unceremoniously dropped before the clerk, who eyed it with hunger and placed it upon the scale. He studied and added until a balance was met, then nodded his head.

"Purchase accepted," the clerk said.

"Hold yourself," Mistress Cinder's shrill voice snapped. She laid her fingers on John's shoulder. He turned to look at the woman, pulling lightly on the rope to keep Credence close.

"You put on a fine show, I'll admit," Mistress Cinder said, "but no man has that kind of money to spare—not without me knowing about him. And I don't know you. What house are you from? Where did you get that gold?"