The Collector steepled his fingers, bringing them to his chin as the live feed spread across the screen. They lay in their cages, arms stretched toward each other, two fingers linked as they—he leaned in and turned up the volume slightly. Ah, they were singing those same children’s songs they sang to give the other privacy. Silly, stupid jingles that they half murmured sometimes. Some of them he recognized; some of them he did not. It was a comfort for them, he supposed. A coping mechanism. They’d found something else to share. Always helpful in the case of dwindling optimism. How many times had they been rented since he’d been away, he wondered. He regretted that he hadn’t been there to take note of the details.
When Noelle ceased singing, Evan picked up where she’d left off. The boy looked better. His swelling was down, and both his eyes were open, though his bruises had darkened, much of his face mottled in deep red and dark purple.
The Collector turned the volume down again, lightly tapping his fingertips together. He wondered if they realized that the stakes of the game were bound to increase. This was the first time the Collector had played, but he knew very well the gamers would become bored if the contestants were allowed to go on enduring rapes and beatings indefinitely just to save some fingers or an ear . . . an eyeball maybe.
He’d be sure to listen in on a few more chats and see if he could glean more specifics about where this might go. But he was pretty sure he already had an idea. They’d made a vow to leave here whole, and so the creators would strive to break them of that notion. Silly of them to say that out loud, really. They’d freely doled out ammunition, and they didn’t even realize it. Pity. It’d make things less interesting, and he’d had high hopes that these two would be interesting indeed.
He paused, watching them, noting their body language, assessing their mental states, listening to her softly murmured singing voice. She had a lovely singing voice, and surprisingly, his wasn’t half bad either. At least not when it came to nursery rhymes. And the way they concentrated so intently as the other person sang . . .
His brow dipped, and he turned up the volume, leaning in closer to ascertain if he was right about what he thought he’d just heard.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what fit bars.”
They sounded like two little kids in their playpen babbling. It reminded the Collector of the secret language of twins. He felt a small pang in his chest but ignored it, leaning forward and listening to a few more bars. No, they weren’t merely singing. He let out a small incredulous laugh. They were speaking in code, inserting words into the songs to form messages. She’d lowered the volume of the parts she’d changed, barely enunciating the words, and moved hurriedly through them, both to signal to Evan what to pay attention to and to make it more difficult for anyone listening to be able to note what she’d said. Even if they did hear it, it would be easy to assume she simply didn’t know all the words to that particular song and was throwing anything in there, as people often did with forgotten lyrics.
Yes, similar to twin language, indeed. No wonder he’d caught on.
He laughed again, delighted and intrigued. People rarely caught him off guard, but these two had. They’d been doing this for at least the entire time he’d been away, if not before. And even he, who considered himself a master at seeing things others did not, hadn’t noticed the subterfuge, simple as it was. But that’s why it worked. No one suspected it. Clever. “Well, color me impressed,” he murmured.
How much had they already conveyed in secret that none of the viewers had realized? What had they already said? How many had turned the volume down as they began singing so as not to get annoying preschool tunes stuck in their heads? Or because it was plain boring? He wished there were a way to rewind the video, but of course, there was not. Not for him, a mere player, anyway. It was a live feed, after all.
His gaze hooked on Noelle. She’d come up with it; he knew she had. He’d had this vague notion that she was mixing up the lyrics to whatever song she was singing the week before, not because he knew all the lyrics to that song but because of Evan’s bemused reaction as she sang. He wondered how long it had taken her to clue him in. Well, either way, they were clued in now. Secret languages moved quickly once both people understood the rules. Secret languages morphed and quickened and became more and more difficult for outsiders to understand. Smart. Very, very smart. Songs. A well-known language that could be easily and discreetly altered if the listener was paying attention.
His gaze stopped on Noelle once more, the outline of an idea unfolding. It was a long shot. A very long shot, indeed. But he knew now that her mind operated the same way his did. He knew now what a worthy contestant she actually was.
And the boy. Well, he didn’t think she would leave the boy unless she had to. Like secret languages, bonds formed extremely quickly, as well, if they were nurtured even the barest bit. He knew that personally. Regardless of his thoughts on the boy, however, it would require a team effort to make this work. And yet, even still, there was so much room for error, so much that might fail or go wrong.
And perhaps that was what made the choice for him.
Long shots were his specialty; he was here, after all. He logged on to another screen and spent an exorbitant amount of money for what he wanted. Then the Collector logged off, heading to his bedroom, where he opened his closet and began to pack another suitcase after he’d just unpacked the one he’d taken on his business trip. He packed a variety of items for different types of weather, since this time he had no idea where his destination would be.
CHAPTER TEN
They’d blindfolded her, and she didn’t know why. She’d been brought to the same room, told to undress and lie down on the same bed as the first two times she’d been here. The same beefy man holding a gun stood at the door, looking stoically ahead. The only difference so far was the silky blindfold the man in the black suit and red shoes had tied around her head.
“Why?” she had asked.
“Rental request,” he had said, right before she heard him exit the room.
Rental request. She was nothing more than a rental now. Like a car, or a bike, or a hotel room. A thing to use temporarily.
And so now Noelle lay on the bed, shivering, trying her best to prepare mentally for what she was about to endure, but distracted by every small sound, her vision gone, her other senses hyperaware.
There was no preparing for what she’d have to endure physically. She was not in control of that. Others currently possessed her body. But she was determined to keep her soul if she could.
She heard a soft knock at the door. Her muscles tensed. God, I hate this. I hate it. Make it fast. At least make it fast. She heard the man with the gun move aside and the soft footsteps of someone else enter the room. Light on his feet. No shuffling.
“Hello, Noelle.” His voice was deep and somehow melodic. He sounded older, but perhaps not as old as the other two men who had entered this room the last two times. She hadn’t been able to identify all their features under the masks they wore, but she’d been able to ascertain their age by their bodies and their sagging necks, veiny hands, and balding heads. She had only this man’s voice. So far. “You do not greet me. Why?”
His phrasing. It was different.
“Should the rabbit caught in the trap greet the hunter?” she bit out. Her voice shook, but her anger and hatred gave her courage. They were the only things she had in which to clothe herself.
He chuckled, and she felt the bed depress. He’d sat down directly to her right. Instinctively, she drew away. “If the rabbit wants to get free,” he answered smoothly.
That confused her. “You’re going to . . . help me get free?”
He made a tsking sound. “That’s against the rules, little rabbit. Would I . . . break . . . the rules?” He’d emphasized the word, though subtly, and she had no idea why. He dragged a finger down her arm, and she tensed and pulled away.