Selena
As one, the remaining girls were lowered, our platforms moving backwards and sinking down to meet the wall at the edge of the pit.
“Please, come join the other contestants.” Abraham waved a meaty hand at us like he was greeting a group of friends. All a sick act, like he actually cared we'd survived.
I hurriedly stepped off of the platform, my legs as brittle as toothpicks as I headed around a narrow aisle that led me to the stage. The spectators were kept from me by a barrier, some jeering, some catcalling, most of them wildly drunk. From my vantage point above the pit, I could see a thin web of silver around the edge to stop the Vs breaking out.
As I approached the stage, I spotted the rest of the Helsing family sitting on a wide balcony that had been built into the seating area, separated from the other viewers. I fought a grimace at the sight of them in all their finery. Beside them, standing like a statue at the back of the box was Kite, her muzzle shining under the lights, her eyes fixed on the crowd.
Mercy met my eye, brushing a lock of golden hair behind her ear. Her gaze was cool and full of malice. I had no idea what I'd done to deserve such hatred, but it leaked from every pore on her perfect skin.
As I passed Abraham, he leant away from the microphone, turning toward me, his sausage-like fingers curling into the crook of my arm. His strength took me by surprise as I lurched to a halt. And I was reminded of what Ulvic had told me about Hunters. That they weren't human; he may have looked, felt and smelt like one, but he wasn't. And I didn't yet fully understand what that meant.
“I don't like cockroaches, Selena.” His face was smiling, but his eyes were not.
I knew what he was implying, so I gave him the only response I could think of in that moment. “Neither do I. But you've got to admire their tenacity.”
“Hmph.” He smiled for real then – which was eerier than when he hadn't been. Letting me go, he ushered the remaining girls toward the seating area. We took up the empty bench at the front of the aisle, the seat fitted with a velvet cushion.
The girl, Imogen, who had stripped to win favour had put her pale, lemon dress back on. She sat beside me, her golden brown eyes void of emotion. I wondered what she was thinking, what all of them were thinking.
I barely registered Abraham talking as I tried to process what I'd just been through. I kept my head bowed, mainly to avoid looking at the bloody arena below us. I needed time to prepare for what was to come. The Helsings had clearly poured a lot of resources into this place. But more money meant more horrors for us, no doubt.
I glanced at the tablet strapped to my wrist, spotting messages streaming in from the spectators. Most of them were outrageously vulgar, but one caught my eye from Ulvic and I tapped the screen to open it.
Anyone who looked forward to that bloodbath is sick in the head.
I raised my eyes, searching the sea of masked faces before me, but they all looked the same. I couldn't locate Ulvic, but I took comfort in the fact that he was out there. His words confirmed he wasn't here by choice. So, if nothing else, I knew I had an ally close by.
Abraham was suddenly dismissing us and I was so caught off guard that most of the girls had already descended from the stage by the time I followed. A staircase wound down behind the wooden platform, disappearing into the depths of the amphitheater. I was grateful to be away from the cameras, hurrying down the steps into the bright room below.
Cheers followed us that made my neck prickle and music started up again, blaring through the stadium.
We followed the white corridor, arrows guiding us toward the outskirts of the stadium. The noise faded into the distance, but the occasional cheer went up, as if the crowd were watching a football match. I didn't want to imagine what they were actually cheering about.
We eventually reached a wide set of doors that led outside and I hurried through the group, desperate for an ounce of freedom. I made it outside, the frozen air assaulting my lungs and clearing my head. We gathered on the concrete path that was separated from the island by a high fence, topped with razor wire.
Mercy Helsing appeared from a door behind us leading to an elevator. She was dripping in jewels that glinted in the moonlight and a coral dress clung to her curves. As she approached, she flicked a blonde strand over her shoulder, tiptoeing forward on skyscraper heels.
She was definitely smirking at me so I quickly straightened, not wanting to appear weak. Some of the girls around me looked pale and dazed, but others seemed confident, like this wasn't an unusual occurrence for them. Twyla-Rae and Thames included. That struck me as odd. But I didn't have time to debate it as Mercy unfolded her goosebump-lined arms and addressed the crowd. There were thirty five of us altogether, a third more than I'd been with on Raskdød.
“I've been given the joyous task of taking you all to the resort. Please don't bother to ask me questions, I'm not going to answer them, and I'm more likely to feed you to a V if you piss me off.” She turned on her heel, the girls scowling at her bare back. “Follow me.” Mercy raised a manicured finger in the air and beckoned us on.
I gazed around the crowd, looking for a friendly face as we started following her, veering around the amphitheater toward a group of dark shapes. The moon was hidden behind clouds, the only light the floodlights attached to the wall.
I spotted the Indian girl, Eesha, and my heart lifted with hope. It sunk immediately as I found her close to two other girls she evidently knew, keeping in a tight-knit group. As I gazed around, it became obvious many of the girls had similar allies. And it hit me, that of course, like I had arrived on Raskdød with Kite and Cass, some of these girls were also amongst people they knew from prison.
A longing for Cass at my side reared up in me so quickly that I barely had time to suppress the tears that filled my eyes. No one had my back here. The one girl, Amanda, I'd tried to build bridges with was already dead. Which put me in a seriously vulnerable position.
Perhaps I could team up with some of them. And, I bitterly thought, after a round or two, maybe some of the girls wouldn't have allies any more. Not much to hold out for, especially considering I myself had to survive those rounds, too.
I clasped my arms, shivering as I followed Mercy along the path, her hair bouncing as she strode as fast as she could without breaking into a run. As we approached the dark shapes along the track, the whinny of horses caught my ear.
Black as night, iron carriages were lined up in a row, hugging the wall of the amphitheater, each of them drawn by two ebony horses with a black feather attached to their heads. They pawed the ground impatiently, their hooves scraping across the concrete. Some of them snorted their frustration and puffs of vapour filled the freezing air.
Mercy directed us into the carriages, splitting the girls into groups of eight. The bars on the windows drained my courage as I led the way into one, gathering the heavy skirt of my dress into my hands. Drones buzzed overhead as our entourage was filmed, probably fed back to the arena for the spectators to see.
I took a seat, locking my ankles together beneath my dress, biting my lip as more of the girls filled the space.
Thames sat next to me, now wearing a plain cream dress evidently having succeeded in getting a replacement for the lime-green one. Her eyes danced left and right across the other contestants who joined us. She leant into me, muttering, “Did you see all that blood?” She cracked her knuckles. “Kinda makes me hungry. Ketchup, right?”
My gut writhed uncomfortably, but I faked a smile, knowing I needed to make friends as soon as possible. Even if they were insane.
She cackled a laugh, slapping a hand down on my arm, gazing around at the other girls with a thrilled expression. “Don't you get it?” She raised her brows, looking for a reaction but received nothing but glowers from the other six girls. Five of which seemed to know each other, muttering quietly in a language I didn't recognise. The final girl was gazing between the bars on the windows, seeming lost in her thoughts. Her eyes were thick with eyeliner and her face ghostly pale, her lips painted in a deep, purple lipstick the same colour as her dress. Her ebony hair flowed over her shoulders, dip-dyed in electric green.
“Just looking to lighten the mood.” Thames nudged me. “You'd think Transylvania over there could use a laugh.”
The goth-looking girl turned to her, her movements controlled, her eyes catching the light like two shiny pennies. “I am Ukrainian,” she answered in a thick accent. She tsked at Thames's appearance who was absentmindedly pulling on the tunnel in her ear.
“Same difference, Transy.” Thames said with a shrug.
The tension in the carriage grew unbearable as me and the other five girls stared between them. I was relieved when a shout went up from outside and our carriage pulled forward, the wheels rolling smoothly across the concrete.
“My name is Yelysalveta Vyhovsky,” the Ukranian girl said, tilting her head to the side, a dangerous look in her eye.
Thames licked her teeth, leaning forward. “Yah – think I'm gonna stick with Transylvania.”
My heart lurched upward. I didn't know if it would serve me better to stay out of their argument or take sides.
“My father is part of Odessa Mafia in Ukraine, and he would tell me to bring your head home to him. But your head is empty except for silly English thoughts.” Yelysalveta smiled to herself. “Not worth paying for extra bag on flight home.” She laughed a slow chuckle.
Thames threw her head back, laughing manically and I had the overwhelming feeling I was being carried off to an asylum. “I like you Transy.”
Yelysalveta turned her attention to me, her eyes sweeping up and down my outfit. “You look like corpse bride.”
I gazed down at my white gown with a frown, then shrugged. “Better that than an actual corpse.”
Yelysalveta laughed again. “You may call me Veta.” She turned to Thames. “You may not.”
“Great, I'm Selena,” I said, trying to ignore the creepy 'Im going to murder you' smile on Thames's face.
“Selena's mine.” Thames sank her nails into my arm and my heart tipped over.
I unhooked her nails from my skin. “I'm not anyone's.” I needed allies, but I wasn't going to submit to Thames like she owned me.
“You won a game before, right?” Thames turned full-bodily toward me so I couldn't escape her wild eyes.
I thrust up my chin, wanting to look like I was proud of that fact. “Yes.”
“Me too.” Thames bared her teeth and I realised it was another version of her scary smile.
Her words hit me like a gunshot and all my faked confidence dissolved. “Wait – what?”
Thames curled a dreadlock around her finger, nodding. “This is my third game. The Hunters have been passing me around from island to island for weeks.”
I suddenly had a thousand questions to ask her, but the carriage jolted to a halt and I was forced to look at our surroundings. Luxury shone down at me from every corner of the world. We had entered a beautiful resort; the carriages lined up before a modern, white-walled hotel that stretched into the sky. It sat not too far from a cliff, the moonlit sea shining beyond it in the distance. Sign posts marked the way to a nearby beach, pick up points for something call the 'V Experience', and even a hot springs spa.
My mind wheeled in circles as our iron cage opened and we were released into the resort. I had to remind myself that this was all born from the Helsings' design. I couldn't lose sight of the truth, even if I'd wanted to. But for the first time since I'd arrived on Raskdød, I was starting to see the appeal of the games to outsiders. So long as they remained detached from us, they could lap up the luxury and place bets on a thrilling survival game.
The Helsings' castle, the resort, the money, the thrills, the women; all of it was a great, shiny mirror deflecting the light away from the dark truth at the heart of these games.
So perhaps all I needed to do was crack the glass...