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Everyone seemed friendly enough to me the day before considering the circumstances. They should have all been reacting the way Maddie did, screaming and crying in the middle of the dance. The fact that they didn’t openly weep is impressive. But now they have to put on even more of a show.
“And this isn’t just for my sake, but for yours, too,” Edgar explains. “You see, any woman who is not bid on by the end of the week … will be eliminated.”
The word hangs in the air for a few seconds before I register what he means.
Killed.
Any woman left at the end of the week will be killed. Simple as that.
“We do not have the resources here to keep you until next year, so your only way out is through one of our guests.”
There are only ten guests.
The realization hits me hard, knocking the wind from me.
There are fourteen women and ten guests. It’s sickening, gruesome math.
The best-case scenario leaves four innocent women in unmarked graves.
The women around me come to the same realization, and a nervous whisper rushes through our group.
“I’m sure you are all doing the arithmetic,” Edgar says with a sick smile. “The odds are stacked against you, which means you need to be even more friendly. Perhaps, a few of our wealthier guests will buy more than one. It has happened before—though, I must say, not so often.”
I look at Maddie out of the corner of my eye. She is staring down at her feet, her breaths coming in shuddery bursts. I want to reach over and lay a hand on her back, but I don’t. Not while Edgar is watching us. I want to try and do what Luka asked: not draw any more attention to myself.
Just after Edgar delivers the devastating news, he claps his hands in the way he likes to do before announcing the next activity, and then turns to begin welcoming the bidders as they make their way into the lounge.
Many of them are holding cups of coffee and pastries, clearly having just eaten breakfast, and my stomach rumbles. Apparently, there will be no breakfast for those of us on the auction block.
“Take a seat, take a seat,” Edgar says, encouraging everyone to find a spot in the semicircle of furniture that has been rearranged around the fireplace. “We have a nice little show planned for you this morning.”
My heart rate ratchets up, slamming against my rib cage. I look for Luka in the crowd and spy him standing off to the right. It calms me for a moment but then I tear my eyes away. I don’t want anyone to see our connection.
Edgar moves in front of us, facing the bidders. “Yesterday was all about getting comfortable and mingling, but today, we want to show you that our women are top of the line. So, we have a fun little game planned to show you how obedient these slaves can be.”
I’m very confident this game will not be fun for any of the women, and there seems to be a consensus about that. Soft sobs come from the group, and Edgar clenches his hand into a fist behind his back in warning. The subtle hint works and the cries cut off at once.
Edgar then claps his hands in front of him once. “Let the game begin.”
* * *
The game is simple and sick.
One by one, the women move into the center of the semicircle and for five minutes, they must do whatever the crowd asks of them. The one saving grace is that anything overtly sexual is off- limits, but it only serves to bring out the bidder’s creativity.
The man in the fox mask is enjoying this display most of all.
He tells Number Six, a tan woman with wide-set hips and a big chest, to do jumping jacks in front of him, making her continue until she is out of breath and red in the face.
After that, the man in the bird mask asks her to moan the alphabet, which is impressively—if not horrifically—inventive.
When it is Maddie’s turn, she freezes up next to me.
“Number Eleven,” Edgar repeats, waving her down to the center of the floor. “Come on down.”
Then, he turns to the crowd. “This isn’t a good start, is it?”
“She needs to be taught a lesson,” Fox-Face calls, licking his lips eagerly.
