Lost Girls(66)

She shrugged. “Platinum Level competition.” There was a dead expression in her eyes, like she’d seen too many girls like me come through the door.

“Sounded more like an auction to me,” I said.

The other girls shook their heads vigorously.

“No.”

“Nothing like that.”

“I’ve seen you before,” I told her.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not from around here.”

“Rachel, come on!” Lauren whimpered. She stood by the door, first one hand twisting the knob, then two. “Holy shit, it’s locked! Is there another way out of here?” A thin layer of sweat covered her brow, and her gaze darted around the room as she searched for another exit.

“Relax, Swan Girl,” the makeup girl said, her calm voice sounding like something from a horror movie. “It’s not what you think. Come back and let me finish your makeup.”

Her face tilted sideways and the light reflected off her cheekbones, the posture familiar—almost like a yearbook picture. That’s when I knew why I recognized her.

She was one of the Lost Girls.

“You can do my makeup first,” I offered. “I’m not as pretty as my friend, so I’ll probably need more work anyway.” I forced a grin as I sat in the chair beside her. I had a feeling she might be the only person here who’d be willing to help us—if I could convince her to trust us first. “You went missing, just like I did, didn’t you? An FBI agent showed me your photo. What’s your name—Madison, Haley, Brooke?”

She tried to hide it, but her head jerked backward, just a fraction of an inch, when I said Madison.

“How long have you been missing, Madison?” I asked.

She smudged foundation on my nose and cheeks, her own face reddening.

Meanwhile, Lauren ran around the room, still searching for another way out. I could tell she was scared. I was afraid, too, but I had to push through this if I wanted to get the answers I needed.

“My name is Indigo,” Madison said in a low voice. “If you call me anything else, they’ll beat me.”

“Okay. Indigo it is. How long have you been here?”

Lauren glanced at me, her eyes dark. Madison wore a long-sleeved top, one of the cuffs swinging loose, exposing bruises and long, thin scars that covered her forearm. She kept her gaze on my cheekbones as she applied blush, avoiding my eyes.

“Do they beat you often?” I asked.

She shrugged.

The other girls were pretending they couldn’t hear us talking, all three of them pouring their attention over the costumes they had selected for us. Lauren settled into a chair beside me, but couldn’t hold still. She kept tapping me on the arm, as if I didn’t already know she was there.

“What do they do with us after the fight is over?” I asked. This is what I needed to know. What had happened to Nicole and me, and why? “Those people out there are bidding for us. Don’t pretend they’re not. But what do they do with us?”

“You really want to know? Even though you already went missing once?” Madison’s eyes turned into long, narrow strips and her nostrils flared. “You fight. And you fight. And you fight. Forever.”

Lauren frowned. “We already fight.”

She gave us a grim smile.

“You fight for your new owner. In an underground club somewhere else, far away from your home and your family. You never see anyone you love again—”

“Indigo, don’t!” one of the other girls said in a hoarse whisper. “You know they listen in on us.”

But Madison didn’t stop. She continued to apply my makeup and she continued to talk, despite the single tear that began to trickle down her cheek. She looked eerie, her eyes emotionless, her voice flat, that tear the only sign that what she was saying might actually be true.

“You live in a cage or a closet and you wish you had a blanket when it’s cold or a glass of water or a change of clothes. They only wash you before a fight and they only feed you when they remember, when they aren’t too drunk or high. They use you like an animal for whatever they want, whenever they want—” She paused to look into my eyes for the first time, revealing the hollow emptiness inside. “You fight and you fight and you never get away. No matter how hard you try.”

Lauren got up and frantically put on her costume, almost tearing the bodice in the process. One of the other girls was braiding and pinning her hair.

“I’m going to get away,” she mumbled. “As soon as that door opens, I’m running—”

But the door was already open and two burly guards stood there, watching us, barring the only exit. They walked inside the room and locked the door behind them.

“Shut up!” one of them said as he grabbed Madison, then punched her in the face.

I flinched. Lauren let out a scream.

Madison crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“And you”—the guy shot a dagger-like finger at me—“get dressed. Now! Or you won’t even make it as far as the stage. You’ll have your last performance right here.” He grabbed his crotch with one hand and gave me a dark grin.

I glared at him, but I knew I was outnumbered.

So I put on my costume and got ready for my fight.