Rabbits(106)

I ran after her. There was no way I was going to let her out of my sight without some kind of explanation.



* * *



—

Easton took off her jacket and placed it over the back of her chair. She was wearing an elegant orange-and-blue top cut at an angle across her shoulders. She had a significant collection of metal bracelets on her wrists and huge golden hoops hanging from her ears.

“So, I’m sure you have some questions for me, and I promise I’ll try to answer them to the best of my ability, but do you mind if I ask you a couple of things first?”

We were sitting across from each other at a low table in a coffee shop. It was still fairly early, but the locals were beginning to file in for their morning fix.

“What would you like to know?” I replied, then burned my tongue as I nervously sipped at my coffee, which was still way too hot to drink.

“Is it true that Alan Scarpio asked you for help?”

I stared at Easton for a moment. I couldn’t decide what to say. It was clear she already knew or suspected that I’d spoken with Scarpio, but she wanted confirmation for some reason.

“Will you answer one question first?” I asked at last.

She nodded slowly—not an affirmation, but rather, an indication that she was thinking about it. “That depends, I suppose.”

“Are you the player known as Murmur?”

She smiled for a moment, then finally nodded.

Shit. Easton Paruth just got a whole lot scarier.

“How long have you been playing the game?”

“That’s two questions,” she said, “but that’s okay. I’ve been playing the game for a long time.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

She smiled. “You’d like to know how long I’ve been playing the eleventh iteration?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to tell you about my experiences, K, but lately people affiliated with the game have a habit of…disappearing or turning up deceased.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. There was no reason for me to share the fact I’d been hearing the same thing—at least, not yet.

“Several players I know personally have recently died or gone missing, and there are rumors that the worldwide numbers are much, much higher.”

“What do you think is going on?”

She shrugged. “I know I have something of a…reputation for playing a little outside the rules, but it really is getting dangerous out there. You should watch yourself, K. There aren’t that many of us left.”

“Do Darla and the others have any idea that you’re using them to help you play Rabbits?”

“Not talking about the game is still an important part of it. You would do well to remember that.”

A threat—or hint of a threat—from Murmur wasn’t something that could be taken lightly, but I was tired and, frankly, at this point, I was almost beyond caring. “We’re talking about it now, though, aren’t we?”

“Well, yes,” she said with a wry smile. “I suppose we are.”

I blew on my coffee to cool it down.

“You’re not angry that I used you to track down this clue, are you?” she said.

I shrugged. “Not really.” And it was true. I really didn’t care. I was having coffee with Murmur, and she’d used me to help her play the game. It was an honor. Chloe was going to lose her mind.

“We all have our own methods of playing,” Easton said. “But the fact you’re here and still alive is impressive.”

“Thanks,” I said, and took another small sip of coffee, careful not to burn myself this time. “It’s true,” I confessed. “Alan Scarpio did ask me for help. He told me that he believed something was wrong with the game.”

Easton leaned across the table. “He was right. The game has always been dangerous, but what’s happening now…it’s different. Players are disappearing and dying at an unprecedented rate.”

I nodded.

“If Scarpio really did ask you for help, then you must be connected to whatever’s going on.”

“I suppose so.” I fidgeted with my coffee cup on the table. As excited as I was about speaking with Murmur, there was no way I was going to tell her about Crow and the Gatewick Institute.

“No connection at all between you and Scarpio before this?” she asked.

“None. The first time I met him was just before he disappeared.”

Easton took a sip of coffee and leaned back in her chair, metal bracelets jangling around her wrists. I counted them—ten on each wrist. Twenty bracelets, a twenty-dollar bill in a man’s hand in line, twenty sugar containers on the servers’-station table. I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do now was fall into some kind of pattern-recognition sinkhole. There was a fine line between those patterns that were connected to the game and the ones that weren’t, and although I felt like I was still operating on the right side of that line, it was getting blurrier every day. I’d grown to depend on Chloe and Baron to keep me focused and on track, but Baron was dead and Chloe wasn’t here. I took a slow deep breath.

“Why are you still playing?” I said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

She stared at me for a moment, then looked around as if she was worried somebody might be listening. She pulled her chair closer to the table.