Vandekamps viewing of my reaction seemed part entertainment, part clinical observation. So I swallowed my guilt to deny him the pleasure.
What did you do with Gallagher? I demanded, and his fleeting frown made my stomach flip. He didnt recognize the name.
Gallagher wasnt at the Spectacle. Hed been sold to someone else or sent to a cryptid prison orworst-case scenariogiven to a research lab.
A cold new fear overtook me. No matter where he was, he would fight to get to me.
I stared at the floor, struggling to control my horror at that thought. Or at least hide it from Vandekamp.
Until we know what you are, youre a financial liability, he said, and I forced myself to focus on his words. You can enlighten me, or I can let my lovely wife pull the information out of you. But I dont think thats what you want.
No use denying that. Tabitha Vandekamp was scary in a way no thick-fisted roustabout had ever been. But she couldnt change the facts.
Ive told you. I shrugged, mentally tamping down the fear that he might recognize my half-truth. Run the test again. The results will be the same, and no amount of torture will change that. Im human.
Vandekamp crossed his arms over his shiny blue button-down shirt. Ive seen you turn into a monster, Delilah.
The two are not mutually exclusive. I shrugged and held his gaze. You and I have that in common.
Willem
Willem Vandekamp watched the office door close behind his latest purchase, and for a moment, he sat lost in his thoughts. After more than twenty years in the cryptobiology field, hed long been convinced that nothing could surprise him.
Until Delilah.
A cryptid who went to college.
A cryptid whod taken his seminar.
She understood too much, but the real problem Delilah represented wasnt how much she knew about him, but how little he knew about her.
Delilah would make the investors nervous. She would terrify his friends in Washington.
Speaking of whom...
Willem glanced at his watch, an obsolete device in the age of cell phones and handheld tablets, but one that gave him comfort in its simplicity. He was two minutes late for the conference call, but had no intention of actually picking up the phone for another three. Punctuality might give those congressional blowhards the mistaken impression that his time was less important than theirs.
What if Tabitha was right? Willem leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head, still staring at the door. What if Delilah was a surrogate? No one had seen a single one of those sadistic little bastards since the government rounded them up nearly thirty years ago. Theyd be thirty-five years old nowa full decade older than Delilahbut who knew whether theyd age like humans? Hell, if they were some kind of fae, their glamour could make them look like anything or anyone.
But Delilah wasnt fae. According to her file, the sheriff whod originally arrested her had kept her in iron cuffs with no effect.
Willems desk phone rang. His direct line. He noted the DC area code on the display and smiled. Then he let it ring two more times before he answered.
Hello?
Vandekamp. Senator Aaron sounded distinctly displeased. We had an appointment, unless Im mistaken?
I apologize. Willem spun in his chair to look out the window at the topiary garden. Its been a bit chaotic here, and Im running on about three hours of sleep.
Does that mean the rumors are true? the second voice demanded in an eager baritone.
If the rumors say that I have retaken Metzgers Menagerie from the creatures who escaped their cages and killed the owner, then yes.
How could this have happened?
It couldnt have, if my restraint system were federally subsidized and put into production, Willem pointed out, without bothering to filter sharp criticism from his tone.
If your restraint system were more than a prototype, that might be a possibility, Senator Aaron said. Until then
Its ready. Willem stood and paced the length of his office, his pulse roaring in his ears. Come see for yourself. My technology is going to change the world, Senator. You can be on the forefront of the new wave or you can be crushed by the tide. Your choice.
He dropped his phone into its cradle and took a deep breath. Then he pressed the intercom button and spoke without waiting for a greeting from his secretary. I want a full recording from Delilahs collar. I need to see every hormonal fluctuation on a timeline alongside video footage from her dorm. Every twelve hours.
As the only creature at the Savage Spectacle that Willem could neither identify nor control, Delilah Marlow was the one thing standing between him and a government contract that would revolutionize humanitys control over the beasts it shared the planet with.
She could not be allowed to derail two decades of progress.
Delilah
A couple of hours after the sun set, Woodrow, the gamekeeper, stepped into the dormitory to conclude our first-day orientation with an announcement that lights-out would be in half an hour. He told us to clean our teeth with the brushes wed been issued and use the toilets, then warned usagainthat failure to follow orders would result in serious consequences.
The long-term Spectacle captives began filing into the bathroom in two lines, clearly accustomed to the routine. Lala and Mahsa were the first from our group to join them, and I stepped into line after them. How was your work assignment? I asked, as we shuffled forward after the others. What were you doing?
Vacuuming some big room, Lala said.
Scrubbing the kitchens, Mahsa added.
Multiple kitchens?
Yeah. The leopard shifter shrugged. Two of them, in two different buildings. There may be more, though. Her eyes widened. Did you see the bushes?
The topiaries? Ridiculous, arent they?
Yes, Lala said. But theyre beautiful. Especially the nymph with roses for hair.
We shuffled forward again, and the women whod been first in line began to exit the bathroom. So, did you see any way out? The property seems to be walled in, but I assume theres a gate up front? And maybe one in the back, for deliveries? Wed all been unconscious when wed arrived, but I couldnt imagine them driving tarp-covered cattle cars past the massive front building and the valet stand.
I The oracle flinched, and her hand flew to the collar at her neck.
Lala? Whats wrong?
Simra turned around, a couple of places in front of us and frowned at me as if Id just asked a colossally stupid question. Shes not allowed to talk about certain things. But I didnt understand until she tapped the shiny steel collar around her own neck.
Holy shit.
Vandekamps collar was preventing her from speaking specifically about gates and exits? How was that possible, short of paralyzing the vocal cords entirely? There was no way any electronic device could tell what someone intended to say before the words even formed.
Or was there? If the collars could anticipate a shifters intention to shift based on the anticipatory hormones, maybe the speech block worked similarly. Maybe the collars receptors simply detected the presence of whatever nervous hormone people produce when theyre about to break a rule. Or maybe it sensed spikes in blood pressure, like a lie detector. Maybe the collar simply read the physiological signs of our intent.
Or was there? If the collars could anticipate a shifters intention to shift based on the anticipatory hormones, maybe the speech block worked similarly. Maybe the collars receptors simply detected the presence of whatever nervous hormone people produce when theyre about to break a rule. Or maybe it sensed spikes in blood pressure, like a lie detector. Maybe the collar simply read the physiological signs of our intent.
Stunned by Simras revelation, I shared a horrified glance with Mahsa and Lala as the line shuffled forward. Why was I allowed to ask questions about things others werent allowed to discuss?
The most likely answer seemed to be that since I hadnt known the question was forbidden, my body didnt react with any signs of anxiety that could trigger my collar. Would that change, now that I knew?
Disturbed by the policing of my very voice, I shifted my thoughts from the fact that we werent allowed to talk about something to what we werent allowed to talk about.
Exits, locks...
Vandekamp was censoring information that might help plan an escape.
When I got to the front of the line for the toilet stalls, Finola leaned forward to whisper from behind me. Is that hand sanitizer?
I followed the sirens gaze to a line of four liquid dispensers on the wall. The sign hanging above them notified us that they were to be utilized every time we used the restroom, though I couldnt imagine that more than a few of the captives could read. Looks like.
We shuffled forward as one of the stalls emptied, and Zyanya spoke up from behind the siren. Why do they care whether we brush our teeth and wash our hands?
Presumably it cuts down on communicable illness in such tight quarters, Lenore said.
Yes, but I suspect thats a secondary concern. I stepped forward again, and found myself second in line. Our value and appeal both decline if were sick or dirty.
When wed all flushed, sanitized and brushed, Lala and I helped several of the other captives arrange the gymnastics mats on the floor and distribute blankets. There were no pillows or pajamas, and the mats were worn and thin, but the accommodations were both cleaner and more comfortable than anything wed had in our carnival cages.
The menagerie refugees and I claimed spots on the left side of the room, in our own little cluster, and seconds after wed all chosen a mat, the lights overhead were extinguished, in both the big room and the bathroom. We were left with only the light shining in from the series of tall, narrow windows, through which I could see several security light poles.
An instant later, every collar in the room briefly flashed red, and I wondered what new restriction had just been placed on us.
For several minutes, I lay on my side, thinking about collars and tranquilizer rifles and blood tests and topiary cryptids locked in their poses. After having survived the menagerie, Id thought I knew what to expect from imprisonment. I understood how to deal with chains and cages and hunger, but this shiny, antiseptic captivity felt like the glittery wrapping on a box full of horrors, just waiting to be unwrapped.
In the near dark, one of the forms to my right sat up on her gym mat, and I recognized Zyanyas silhouette even shrouded as it was by baggy scrubs. She turned to me, waving one hand to get my attention, and I sat up to see what was wrong. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Her hands flew to her throat, and even in the thick shadows, I saw the fear and desperation in every motion. Zyanya was terrified.
I scooted off my mat and reached for her, but when I tried to ask what was wrong, there was no response from my vocal cords. I remembered the flash of red from every collar in the room.
Vandekamp had silenced usall of usevidently for the entire night.
Anger raged like a storm inside me. Having lost my voice earlier made this instance no easier to bear.
With the press of a single button, Vandekamp ripped from all of us a right Id considered not just inalienable, but literally impossible to steal without a scalpel and the courage to face the bloody reality and cruelty of a sadistic and permanent mutilation.
Hed made the process so neat and easy that it required no thought or effort, and his conscience probably never had to justify the reasoning behind such a barbaric practice.
Zyanyas hands began to shake. Her mouth opened, forming silent words too fast for me to read on her lips. I seized her hand, and with it, her attention. I pointed at my own collar with my free hand, then covered my mouth, trying to explain that she hadnt permanently lost the ability to speak. That we were all suffering the same temporary loss.
The shifters forehead furrowed, fury dancing in her luminous cat eyes, and I knew she understood. And she was pissed.
Her rage called to the beast inside me, which uncoiled like a snake ready to strike. My vision sharpened until I could see Zyanya perfectly well in the dark and my hands ached for something to grab. For some damage to wreak.
But like hers, my anger was impotent, for the moment, without a target to strike.
I mimed lying down on my mat, silently encouraging both Zyanya and the furiae to try to get some sleep. Because there was nothing else for us to do, mired in silent darkness.
Zyanya lay down with obvious reluctance and feline grace. Her cat eyes glowed at me from two feet away, reflecting what little light shone into our room.
When I finally fell asleep, her eyes followed me into my mute nightmares.
* * *
With dawn came the return of both overhead lights and our ability to speak. Id never in my life been more desperate to be heard, simply because for the past eight hours, I couldnt be.
I cornered Simra at one of the bathroom sinks while she brushed her teeth. Why didnt you warn us that we would be muted at lights-out?
She frowned at me in the mirror, mint-scented foam dripping down her pale chin. Then she spit into the sink and turned to me. I didnt realize you needed a warning. Was it different in your last collection?
Were not from a collection. But thats not the point. I traced my collar with one finger. Vandekamp invented this technology, and as far as I know, no one else has anything like it.
We didnt have it here either, until a couple of winters ago. Magnolia spoke up from the next sink. But Simra hasnt been here long enough to know that. Few have. They used to keep us in concrete cells in another building. Then one day, they put these collars on a few of us and put us in a separate room, with cameras on the ceiling. And they left the door unlocked.
Vandekamp had been testing his technology on a small sample of the captives, obviously.
Magnolia shrugged. After a while, they put collars on everyone, and thats when the nightly engagements began. Before that, we were on display at events, but there was no...touching.
Chills slid down my spine, forming a cold puddle in the bottom of my stomach.
This isnt what its like everywhere else, ladies, I told them softly. At the menagerie, they could put us in cages and they could put us on display and they could deny us food or clothing, but they couldnt control our words. They couldnt control our thoughts.
The collars dont do that, Simra insisted as she rinsed her toothbrush. Im still free up here. She tapped her temple with the index finger of her free hand.
Really? If you were to think about pulling all the water out of these faucets and those toilets a basic skill among marids I mean, if you were to really consider doing it, what would happen?