Spectacle (Menagerie #2)(34)
“As long as you don’t try to beat up any defenseless women, we should be just fine.”
“Get up.”
I stood, which wasn’t easy with my hands bound at my back. Woodrow took my arm in a tight grip. “How are Rommily and Mirela?” I asked as he marched me out of the building and through the iron gate for my third trip to the boss’s office in my first week at the Savage Spectacle.
Woodrow remained silent all the way across the grounds and into the main building.
Both Vandekamp and his wife were waiting for me in his office. They stood as soon as the door opened.
“What did you do to Sutton?” Vandekamp demanded before the gamekeeper could even close the door.
I shrugged. “You can’t stop justice with a collar. I warned you.”
“Justice?” Tabitha Vandekamp demanded. “He knocked out four of his own teeth and exposed his skull in three places. They had to sedate him to keep him from killing himself in the ambulance.”
I tried to look unaffected by the gory details, but now that the whole thing had passed, knowing that I was the conduit for such violence made me uncomfortable, even though Sutton deserved what he’d gotten.
“How long will he be like that?” Vandekamp demanded.
“I don’t know.” I was as interested as they were in finding out how long their man would suffer self-destructive urges. But they would probably never tell me.
“How long will the handprint last?” his wife asked.
“I don’t know. That’s never happened before.”
Vandekamp’s gaze narrowed on me. “Then why did it happen now?”
Another shrug. “I can only assume I’m growing into my potential.”
“Willem.” His name sounded like a weapon, the way his wife wielded it, and I realized she was continuing some conversation I hadn’t heard the start of.
“She’s not a surrogate, Tabitha,” he insisted. “Surrogates didn’t leave marks on anyone.”
No, they’d brainwashed thousands of parents into killing their own children. At least, as near as anyone had been able to piece the whole thing together.
“Whatever she is, she can’t perform on demand and you can’t control her. What’s to stop her from making the handlers kill one another, then us?” Tabitha demanded.
“Ma’am, that wouldn’t—” Woodrow began, but she cut him off.
“You don’t know anything about her. That’s the problem.” She turned to her husband again. “She’s dangerous. Put a bullet in her head.”
“They’re right.” I had to fight past the lump of terror in my throat to be heard. “I couldn’t turn someone into a murderer even if I wanted to. That’s not how justice works. The furiae rights wrongs. She doesn’t make new ones.”
Mrs. Vandekamp’s jaw clenched. “Take her back to isolation,” she ordered Woodrow.
“No,” Vandekamp said, before the gamekeeper could do more than grab my arm. “Take her to the dorm. She’ll be serving tonight.”
“Serving?” I glanced from face to face, but no one even acknowledged that I’d spoken.
Woodrow frowned. “Sir, are you sure that’s a good—”
The look Vandekamp gave him could have withered an oak tree. “They’re expecting her in costuming and makeup at three, with the others.” His gaze narrowed on me. “Many of our beasts aren’t safe to touch, and we’re prepared to deal with that possibility for you. Until further notice, I’m instructing my men to treat any problem from you as an emergency. At the first sign of trouble, you will be paralyzed, then handled with gloves and a snare—a cable loop on an aluminum pole, like dogcatchers use. Should that become necessary, you can forget about ever speaking to Gallagher again.”
As I was hauled into the outer office, Mrs. Vandekamp turned a fiercely angry look on her husband. “Willem—”
“We paid good money for her. I’m not going to euthanize her until I know she can’t be used.”
“Then sell her. Get your money back.”
“You know exactly why we can’t sell—”
And as Woodrow closed the door behind me, I realized I too knew why the Vandekamps couldn’t sell me. Or likely any of the other captives they’d ever taken.
The Savage Spectacle’s business model wasn’t entirely legal. If he sold me, I’d be free of the limits of my collar and might tell my next owner exactly what was going on in the well-kept open secret that was the Spectacle. Old man Metzger had obviously been willing to keep private dealings private, in exchange for the rental fee he charged for his off-season acts, but most others would not be. Vandekamp’s world could come crumbling down around him.
The obvious conclusion settled over me with a fresh jolt of fear.
None of us were ever going to leave the Savage Spectacle.
Delilah
Woodrow adjusted my collar to lock me in the dormitory, then pushed the door closed in my face.
The long-term residents of the Spectacle stared at me as I crossed the room to sit on the floor by one of the windows. I couldn’t make out much of what they were whispering, but the distance they kept from me was telling. However fascinated they might have been by my ability and the vengeful form it had taken, I had caused them all a lot of pain.