Selena
The lobby was like something out of a James Bond movie. Grand stairs of gold and red ran high up above us; beneath our feet were cream tiles, spreading across the space, meeting with pillars of marble, rising toward an ornate ceiling.
I blew out a puff of air. I could practically smell the money spent on the place. It stank of bank notes and fresh blood.
Mercy guided us forward. We looked like a wedding party with the way we were dressed in our grand surroundings. But I didn't expect anyone was feeling particularly merry; Thames excluded.
“This is the Northern Bliss Resort,” Mercy announced.
A noise of derision passed my lips, but that was the least offensive thing Mercy received in response. Someone spat on the pristine tiles and Mercy glowered, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else than here, wasting her time on a bunch of condemned girls.
With a jolt, I noticed men and women lined up against the walls, blending in with their simple white outfits. They approached us as Mercy took a tablet from her small bag. “When I call your name, please step forward.”
“This isn't about our ratings is it?” Imogen called out, looking deathly pale.
“No, this is your sleeping arrangements.” Mercy talked loudly over some of the other girls who questioned her and started reading out names.
We were divided into groups of six and the staff led everyone away up the stairs. I was called into a group with Imogen, Thames, Twyla-Rae, Veta and Eesha and guided up to the fourth level. We were admitted to a corridor through a heavy-looking door and each handed key cards with numbers printed on them.
“Please make your way to your rooms,” our escort said, straightening down her white jacket. “You will only have access to this corridor for now, but you'll soon be given access to other parts of the hotel.”
We filed inside and I checked the card in my hand, finding I was in room number 405. Hurrying down the corridor, I dipped the key card into the slot on the door and headed inside.
”Let the games begin!” Thames cackled as I slammed the door.
Pressing my back to the solid wood, I shut my eyes, willing my heart rate to settle. The absolute quiet was strange in comparison to the events of the evening. But I relished it, needing time to align my thoughts.
I peeled my eyelids open and faced the room provided to me by the Helsings. A breath caught in my throat.
Luxury dripped from every corner of the space. This was no stable or icy prison. It was the grandest room I'd ever been in. The bed was enormous, covered in silky sheets, tan throws and a mountain of plush pillows. A lush carpet spread away beneath my boots, cream and smelling new. I tiptoed across the space, feeling like I didn't belong there.
Tugging off my shoes and socks, I dug my toes into the thick carpet, heading past the modern, monochrome vanity unit toward the bathroom. Peeping inside, I discovered a round jacuzzi tub and an expensive-looking shower unit.
I shut the door, moving back to the bed, unsure of myself. A thin white slip had been left on the end of the mattress for me to sleep in. I picked it up, my nose wrinkling with distaste at the flimsy thing.
A voice suddenly sounded in the room, startling me so I dropped the slip; the same voice that had spoken in the room I'd woken up in. “Welcome to Northern Bliss, Selena.” The lights dimmed and a white wall opposite the bed melded into a screen. The hotel appeared as a blueprint, highlighting the different wings in red.
“You'll be staying here during the games. The lower levels will soon be open where you'll have access to the evening buffet, the training centre and the spa.” More rooms were highlighted on the lower levels. On the other side of the hotel was another wing of rooms, probably reserved for the spectators. Thankfully, they were nowhere near us. But I still didn't feel entirely comfortable with their proximity. I supposed I'd have to get used to that though.
“In the meantime, relax and enjoy the luxuries of your room. Feel free to consume snacks and drinks from the mini-bar courtesy of the Helsing family. You might also take the time to bathe and refresh yourself, then change into the clothes provided in your wardrobe.” Across the room a white wall lit up in red, highlighting a door fitted into it.
The screen faded and bright lights illuminated the room once more. I walked across the space, siding open the wardrobe, finding a series of evening and day dresses inside. All white.
I thumbed through them, looking for something more normal, but the only thing without a skirt was a fitted, white jumpsuit. I sighed, taking it out and heading to the bathroom.
Ignoring the wide tub, I stripped off and darted into the shower. The entire ceiling above the four foot unit rained down on me at the push of a button. I shut my eyes, soaking in the warmth, thinking of Varick and how he had experienced the heat of water for the first time in years because of the humanity my blood had given him. I pictured him out on the island, or locked up in a cage somewhere. Was he still the same person I'd left behind? Or had the Helsings starved him into one of those things, with snarling features and emaciated bodies. It didn't bear thinking about.
When I'd finished washing, I dressed in the white jumpsuit. It was fitted and only just zipped up over my chest so my cleavage was on show. Scowling at the way we were forced to parade our bodies around, I headed to the vanity unit in the bedroom, furiously opening drawers until I came across a series of hairbrushes, ties and clips. Taking one of the slim clips - plastic and impossible to use as a weapon, I noted – I pulled the material across my cleavage and clipped it in place. There. A small defiance, but important nonetheless.
Time ticked by and I spent it pacing, looking through every cupboard, drawer and crevice, searching for something I could use to arm myself. But there was nothing, of course. The Helsings weren't stupid. This room was designed by them. So I'd known deep down I wasn't going to find anything.
Four golden busts stood in each corner of the room, depicting the Helsings. I moved to the one cast in the likeness of Mercy. Her golden hair was almost the colour of her real locks. I ran a finger over it, then, bending down, tried to lift the sculpture off its plinth. It was so heavy that I couldn't even hold it up an inch before having to drop it. No. I wouldn't be using that as a weapon any time soon. But I would have to deal with the reminder that the Helsings were watching me. It made me wonder if their cameras extended as far as this room. They'd never watched us at the checkpoints before, according to Varick. But he wasn't here now to keep us under wraps.
I shivered, making the mental decision to shower in my underwear the next time I washed. I turned my attention to the heavy cream curtains that hung over a window and hurried forward, pulling them back.
Bars. Iron bars were keeping me in. Not that I thought I'd fair very well trying to climb down from the fourth floor of a building. In the distance, I could make out the amphitheater; spotlights swung aross the sky and, opening the window a crack, I listened for the crowd.
Nothing. Either it was too far away or the spectators were no longer there. Seeing as their entertainment was now in this hotel, I didn't imagine they'd have spent much more time in the stadium.
“Selena,” the voice made me jump again. I cursed myself, balling my hands into fists. “You now have access to the lower level. Your door is unlocked. Feel free to explore the hotel.”
I crept to the door, scowling at the fact I'd been locked in my room without knowing. I tried the handle and opened the door. Some of the girls were already in a lift at the end of the corridor. Before the doors closed, I caught sight of Thames amongst them, dressed in a cream swing dress, her tanned legs on show.
Heading down the corridor, I jammed my finger onto the call button and waited for it to return.
Another girl joined my side and I glanced around to find Twyla-Rae standing there in a black jumpsuit the same style as mine. Her short, pink hair shone like a beacon in the low lighting of the hall. Up close, I noticed black studs in her ears and a ring in her lower lip.
She tilted her head to survey me, sucking on the ring. Her eyes slid to where I'd clipped the top of my jumpsuit together. She jabbed her thumb toward her chest. A surprised smile lifted my lips in response as I found she'd also clipped it together. “They think they own us, girl. But they don't. Not even close.” Her accent was a deep southern drawl. I'd been wary of her at first, but now she seemed as cautious as me.
The lift opened and we stepped inside, turning to face the mirrored doors as they closed. There were no buttons but the lift moved smoothly down of its own accord.
“You've played the game before?” I guessed, stealing a glance at her.
“Twice.” She turned to me, her deep chestnut eyes boring into mine. “They offered me a choice: keep playing or go back to prison.” She smiled darkly. “Not much of a choice, but I took the first option, seein' as I had the death penalty watin' for me anyways.”
I shuddered, wanting to ask what she'd done to land herself in prison, but nervous to find out. Twlya seemed approachable and if I knew the details of her past, I might have thought twice about trying to turn her into an ally.
“So there are other Hunters hosting these games?” I changed the subject, trying to comprehend how deep this organisation went.
She nodded. “A guy named Bradt holds a game in Alaska and two sisters who call themselves the Partridge Twins have a game in Peru.”
My stomach twisted into a knot. “Peru?” I breathed.
Twlya nodded.
“How do they get away with it? Why hasn't someone reported them? There must be people who know about it.”
Twlya lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “My guess? These Hunters have a lot of money. They're payin' people off.”
“But why would they accept it?” I demanded, the heat of my blood rising. How could there be so many immoral people in the world? Willing to turn a blind eye to so much death?
Twyla pinned me with a look that said I was naive. “Overcrowded prisons are a problem. A real problem. Hunters offer them a solution and a tonne a-money to boot.”
“But surely people will start to notice?”
“Would you notice if some two-bit, waste o' space criminal went missin' from prison?”
I hung my head. “No,” I muttered.
“Precisely, and Hunters have been usin' Vs to their advantage for a long time. All it takes is Charmin' the right people and no one else will give a damn.”
The doors slid open and we stepped into a huge restaurant. Two large tables stretched down the centre of it covered in silk cloths. Running the length of one wall was a buffet fit for kings. Over half of the girls were already present, helping themselves to food.
As I passed by one of the long tables, I noticed they were eating with plastic cutlery. The Helsings clearly weren't taking any chances. But I wondered if it was each other we were being protected from or if they feared we would attack the staff.
A door across the room called to me. I wasn't in the mood to eat, despite the fact I couldn't quite remember my last meal. But after what we'd witnessed tonight, I was surprised anyone felt able to.
I left Twyla to grab some food, hurrying across the room, feeling eyes on me as I went. I wondered what people thought of me. I guessed we were all trying to suss each other out still. And I'd yet to find myself a solid ally. It was obvious from the way the girls were divided in the room that strong units were forming. I watched as Twyla-Rae joined Veta and a couple of others. I paused, considering joining them.
My stomach did something between a somersault and a dive. I longed for Cass. I missed her so much at that moment that it nearly knocked the wind out of me.
I hurried through the door at the far end of the canteen, hunting for a distraction. And I found it in the form of the room I entered. A large gym stretched ahead of me, full of blue equipment. The walls were made of glass and with a sick feeling, I spotted some of the spectators beyond them. A restaurant surrounded the room, tables lit with little lamps, all angled inward to face the gym. A few men were sat around, puffing on cigarettes, drinking, watching the handful of girls who were using the equipment. I spotted Thames knelt down by a rack of weights, moving her arm at a funny angle.
Frowning, I headed toward her, avoiding the eyes of the men looking in at me. The new arrival. Their faces were still concealed behind masks. Cowards.
“Hey,” I said as I approached Thames, trying to get a look at what she was doing.
“All the weapons are made of rubber.” She shook her head, letting out a small laugh.
“I'm hardly surprised.” I peered over her shoulder and spotted what she was doing, my gut churning in response. She was rubbing her forearm against the metal corner of the weight rack so her skin had split open.
I took a wary step back, wishing I hadn't approached her. “What are you doing?” I breathed, disgusted as she stood, grinning at the men beyond the glass walls.
She didn't answer, springing lithely up on to a leather bench and smearing her bloody arm across the glass.
I watched in barely disguised horror as she wrote 'hungry?' backwards so the word faced out toward the men. The skill she did it with was undeniably impressive, but I had no idea what the point of her actions were.
“Thames, why-” I started but she snapped around, jumping onto the mat before me with a dull thump.
She grinned, moving closer. “Well I tried shouting at first, but I'm pretty sure it's soundproof glass.”
“But why write hungry?” I frowned, gazing at the bloody word smeared across the pane. Some of the men were moving tables so they could see past the obstacle Thames had caused. No one seemed particularly upset by it.
“Two reasons.” She lowered her voice, dropping her mouth to my ear. “Firstly, it might put them off their food.” She stepped closer. “The second...is ratings.” She winked, walking away, swinging her hips. I could see some of the men reaching for their tablets, probably upping her ranking that second.
My tablet buzzed in my pocket and I took it out, reading a message from my illusive supporter Typhon.
Glad you're alive. Thames is a friend worth making.
My head snapped up and I stared around the men in the restaurant, trying to spot if one of them was holding a tablet like mine. I couldn't see toward the back of the low-lit room and the more I looked at the men, the more they gazed back at me with undisguised anticipation.
I felt suddenly small, the men waiting for me to do something to deserve their attention. My throat grew dry and pressure built in my chest. I wasn't the type to spill my blood and draw on windows. I turned to leave but the tablet on my arm buzzed.
Five messages arrived at once, all with the exact same statement.
If you die tomorrow, we're going to have a drink in your honour.
Red, hot anger flowed freely through my body. I glanced up, spotting a group who were clearly the perpetrators; they were gathered around a table together, sniggering as they took in my reaction.
I set to work, snatching up dumbbells to spell out my reply at the heart of the room, big enough for the whole restaurant to read. One word, that's all it said, underlined by yoga mats.
IF
The group stood, gathering at the window to read what I'd written. I glared at them until their eyes met mine. They looked more excited than ever, delight sparking in their expressions. Heat crackled in my veins and I turned on my heel, marching toward the exit. I barged past Imogen on my way out who was standing in the doorway in a tiny yellow slip. Stripping may have saved her once, but I wondered how long the tactic would last. As much as I needed to increase my rating, the thought of getting the spectators excited was repugnant.
I didn't halt in the canteen, no longer hungry, and by the time I got to my room, my breathing was ragged.
I hurried inside, running to the window and opening it to let some air in. I gulped it down, trying to catch my breath, desperately forcing away the thoughts running through my mind.
I shouldn't have volunteered for this.
I can't save Varick.
I should never have come back.
I pressed my face to the cool iron bars encaging me. “Please be out there,” I whispered into the wind. “Please still be you.”
If Varick was in the game, then maybe tomorrow I would find him in the first round. The image gave me such hope that it filled my chest like a light growing brighter inside me. It was all I had to hold onto as I dragged myself away from the window and crawled under the bed covers.
I felt like a child and I despised that. Shouldn't I have been braver now that I'd survived the V Games once? Somehow I felt more afraid than ever.
My tablet bleeped and I rolled over, taking it out of my pocket. Another message from Typhon flashed up on the screen.
Tomorrow, when you see the lights, run.