This wasn’t just about finding out what had happened to Nicole anymore—it was about stopping it from ever happening again.
I gave Lauren a reluctant grin, then raised one eyebrow. “If you go with anybody else, I might have to kick your ass. Here and now.”
She laughed. “That’s the Rachel I know and love. We have to leave right after school. In fact, if we could skip last period, that would be even better.”
A lump lodged in my throat, like I’d swallowed a rock. We were leaving the safe haven of the Swan Girls, getting ready to swim out into deep water, away from our lake and into an adjoining ocean.
It was going to be a miracle if either one of us survived.
...
We climbed into Lauren’s car at 2 p.m. and I still had no idea where we were going. She never showed me the paper with all the instructions and directions. Just like the compulsive control freak she truly was, she’d already pre-programmed everything into her GPS system and I couldn’t see it from where I sat. I sent Agent Bennet a quick text. Maybe if I kept the FBI in the loop, everything would be safe. They could be our backup.
I didn’t get a reply, but I was wearing that kandi bracelet.
I twisted my hands in my lap and bit my lip. I would have felt a whole lot better if Bennet would effing text me back and let me know he got my message. I hadn’t heard from him since this morning, since before Dylan revealed his criminal side and Lauren showed me those tickets.
“You’re pretty quiet for a girl who’s on the way to her Ultimate Destiny.”
“What?” I asked. That term sounded both familiar and creepy at the same time.
“That’s what you used to say whenever we were heading to a Phase Two event. ‘Get ready for your Ultimate Destiny, girls.’”
“Sounds pretty shallow,” I said as I stared out the window. I tried to remember details of my previous journey to this place, but the fear surging through my veins prevented me from thinking clearly. Was that our exit up ahead?
“Sounds to me like somebody needs a hit of Pink Lightning.”
“No. Absolutely, no way. Nada.”
“You’re just chicken because you don’t remember what it’s like. Trust me, it’s amazing. And I have plenty. We could even double tap, if we wanted.”
A shiver ran through me as I thought about what Dylan had told me earlier, about that fight I’d had with Janie Deluca. “Have you ever double tapped?” I asked.
“Not yet, but I’ve always wanted to. Ever since—” Her voice trailed off.
“Ever since my last fight with Cyclone?”
“You remember that?” She shot me a startled glance.
“Yup.”
“And you, uh, remember everything? Like what happened afterward, too?”
“I remember that I quit. Then Dylan and I broke up. And I got kidnapped—although I don’t really remember that last part.”
“Yeah.” Sweat beaded on her forehead. She flashed me a look that was probably supposed to be empathetic, but was a complete fail. “That all sucked. I’m really glad you’re back and okay.”
“Me, too. The only thing is, there’s like this blank spot between me breaking up with Dylan and the day I went missing.” I paused. “You don’t know anything about what happened between him and me, do you?”
“Me? Nah. I didn’t see you after the fight—I was out of school for a couple of days. Wish I had, though. I’d have told you that us girls were all still behind you, whether you were on the team or not. Wait, there’s our exit.”
I thumbed in the name of the exit and the direction we were headed, then pressed send, hoping that Bennet was getting my messages.
“Who are you texting? This is all supposed to be secret, you know,” she chided me as we drove.
“I’m just letting my brother know he has to get another ride home from school,” I said, staring out the window.
Everything looked like it had in my memory of Nicole this morning. There was that abandoned gas station, the windows still broken. Up ahead was the drive-in theater. The surroundings felt eerily familiar, like I was driving through a nightmare and was desperate to wake up. I shoved air down my throat and filled my lungs, reminding myself to breathe.
“You okay?” she asked. “You look like you might get sick.”
“I’m just really, really excited,” I told her, but in reality I was telling my stomach to settle down. It wasn’t working. Was this event always held in the same place? If so, that didn’t make sense. The whole rave culture was illegal, hence the reason for continually moving the location. Everything we passed looked vaguely ominous, from the bar-crusted windows to the power lines that choked out the sky, like these were all warning signs.
You’re heading toward destruction.
I should have said, stop the car, turn around, run if you have to.
Instead, I texted Bennet again, sending the names of cross streets we passed.
“Hey, enough with the nimble fingers. Give me your phone.” Lauren leaned over and grabbed my cell before I could react. “Come on, Rach, stay focused. We need to psych ourselves up. We gotta be at the top of our game.”
I leaned back in my seat, reluctantly agreeing with her. Some of my texts had to have gone through and that kandi bracelet was supposed to alert the FBI if I did anything unusual. Skipping my last class and driving through a gang-infested neighborhood sure seemed to fit the bill.
Bennet would be here. I was counting on it.
...
Our car doors swung open, our feet crunched over gravel and we moved, dreamlike, over cracked concrete toward a building that looked like it had been abandoned since it was built in the ’40s. My throat was dry and I craved a drink of water. That high-spirited demeanor Lauren had exhibited earlier was fading. Now every step she took was light-footed, her shoulders slightly hunched, her posture defensive. She swung a glance around us, taking everything in and still denying what she saw. That same group of tough guys guarded the entrance, although the doors hung open today, a thick, hungry darkness beckoning from within.
“Where are all the cars?” Lauren asked me. “This place should be packed.”
The lot and surrounding streets looked suspiciously empty, just like the last time I had been here. But, once I’d gotten inside, I’d heard the emphatic shouts of a mob. Had all those people come on a bus or something?
“Hey, sweetness,” one of the greasy-haired creeps called out to us. “You got an invitation?”
Lauren’s head bobbed up and down as she slid those tickets out of her pocket, then lifted them so everyone could see. A couple of the guys chuckled, almost as if they could sense her apprehension.
“Platinum Level, huh?” I said in a loud voice, striding toward that open door with as much confidence as I could pull together. “That means there’s gotta be a crowd inside. So, where are all the cars?”
One of the guys did a dramatic bow, which set the others laughing again. “Valets, at your service. We aim to please. No need to have looky-loos dropping by, right?”
“You sure you want to go through with this?” I asked Lauren, my voice low.
She nodded.
We walked through the front door together, side by side, heads up as if we were already inside and being watched by the largest crowd we’d ever seen.
“These raves sure look different during the day, don’t they?” she said, pushing a short laugh out of her lungs at the end of her sentence.
“I don’t think this is a rave.”
“True. But this place still looks like a dive, just like all the others.”
Our footsteps echoed down the long, narrow hall, a dull harmony of heel-toe, heel-toe. I swung a nervous glance over my shoulder, back toward that sun-drenched yawn of empty parking lot. Bennet wasn’t here yet. I worried that he wasn’t coming, that some other crisis had been more important. Maybe some other teenage girl had needed rescuing or maybe the traffic had been too heavy or maybe he never cared as much as he pretended.
> I forced those thoughts away. Lauren and I weren’t alone in this, we couldn’t be.
“Give me my phone,” I said. She slid it into my hand. That closed doorway loomed up ahead. Already I could hear the faint, whooping shouts of a large crowd on the other side, could feel the thunder of applause in the soles of my feet.
Some door guard was going to take away both of our phones soon. Someone was walking toward us now, coming from behind, heavy footsteps pounding on cement floor. I could feel him getting closer. At this point, I knew that Lauren and I no longer had the choice to turn around and leave.
My legs slowed me to a stop, like they just realized they had somewhere else they’d rather be.
“If there’s ever a problem, you can send me a text. Okay?”
It was too late to call my dad now—not with a Platinum Level guard a few feet away and getting closer with every breath—but I could send a text. I clenched my phone like it was a lifeline, punched in three buttons and pressed send.
9-1-1
I hoped he would know what it meant.
Sweat dripped down my neck as I prayed that this building got cell reception. The walls were made of thick cement blocks, probably reinforced with steel, just like Costco and Sam’s Club. Mom and Dad would lose each other forever in those places because their phone calls wouldn’t get through.
“No phones, no cameras, no keys, no purses,” a gruff voice said behind us. “And no jewelry.” One of the meatheads who had been lounging outside grabbed both Lauren and me by the arm. “Hand ’em over.”
“But I have our gear in my purse,” Lauren argued. “We can’t fight in our school clothes—”
“We’ve got that all taken care of, sweetness,” he said as he yanked away my phone and my kandi bracelet, tucking them into a large plastic bag. But in the process of reaching for Lauren’s purse, that kandi bracelet tumbled out of the bag and when he took a step forward, it got crushed beneath his heavy boots. Before I could even react, he pulled the batteries out of our phones.
Had my text to Dad gotten through or was it lost in cyberspace?
“Inside, girls,” the guard said with a smile that looked more like a snarl. He pointed toward the closed door that had been haunting me all day. “They’re waiting for ya.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The door opened and the sweaty heat of a large crowd poured out. I blinked, temporarily blinded by the bright lights that focused on us. Then the lights swung away, beaming down on a fight that was already taking place in the center of the cavernous room. That guy behind us pushed, one broad hand on my back and one on Lauren’s, guiding us both toward another door. We weren’t in the main arena long, but in that amount of time I was able to see a lot.
This hall was bigger than anywhere we’d fought before.
And it wasn’t filled with a crowd of cheering kids.
This place was crammed—wall to wall with barely enough room for a center aisle to walk down toward the stage—with screaming, jumping, cheering adults. Most of them were men who looked like the guys standing outside, muscles pumped, skin tattooed, faces stubbled and unshaven. They were all ages and races, from early twenties to late sixties, black hair to white, all with fists raised—the same way we acted when we watched our own fights. But there was a chilling difference between this group of spectators and us. They leered and jeered and called out obscenities to the girls onstage. They licked their lips and they leaned forward, fingers digging eagerly into pockets for more cash as they shouted their bids.
It felt like I was at a slave auction.
Was that what went on in the Platinum Level? We were up for sale? A shudder ran through me, one that shook me all the way to my bones. If I was right, who was buying fighters and what were they planning to do with us?
I looked at Lauren, wondering if she understood what was happening. Fear glistened in her eyes, but she looked like she was fighting against it. She pulled her shoulders back and walked with a swagger. The indecisive girl in the parking lot vanished. If she kept this act up, she was going to get top dollar.
But I had no idea whether that was good or bad.
We were pushed through the second door where a small entourage of girls our age waited, all with doe-like eyes and heads that bowed when we walked in.
“Get these two ready for the next fight,” the guy behind us growled.
“Of course!” One of them—an amber-haired girl with olive skin—hurried forward, her features both exotic and slightly familiar. She led us to a couple of chairs and gestured for us to sit down. Then she pulled out a makeup kit and started setting up her brushes and pots of color. “How do you want them? Innocent? Sophisticated? Trampy?”
I flinched when she said that last word and I shot a glance at Lauren. She swallowed but kept her head up as the girl started applying base foundation on Lauren’s ivory skin.
“Innocent, like babes in the wood,” he said, then he flicked a finger toward me. “But make sure this one draws everyone’s attention. She’s the leader of her group. And a real troublemaker.”
I wished I could remember what I’d done the last time I was here. Clearly I’d been difficult. I gave him a haughty look, pretending this was what happened before every fight. “No men in the changing room. We won’t be able to act innocent onstage if some meathead watches us change clothes.”
The makeup girl let out a small gasp, but the rest of the room remained still. The guard took two quick steps until he stood in front of me, then he grasped my chin in one hand. “I could break your neck with a single snap,” he whispered, leaning so close his rough cheek scratched against mine.
“You think you could. There’s a reason why I’m the leader of my group and why I’ve never been defeated.”
Time stopped and I held my breath, hoping he didn’t notice my trembling lips.
He grinned, the expression in his eyes turning my stomach. “This one’s got fire, I’ll give her that much.” Then he spoke to the girls who had already been in the room when we arrived. “Make sure they both wear matching costumes and that they are sleeveless. These girls have black-light tattoos that could bring a pretty penny tonight.”
“How could our tattoos affect the betting?” Lauren asked. She still didn’t understand what was going on here. “Lots of fighters have tattoos. The Skulls, the Ravens, the Dragon Tattoo Girls—”
He ran one hand over her hair, almost like he was petting her. “Wish I could take this one home for myself. Just for one night.”
She froze, a frightened expression in her eyes.
“Remember to braid her hair and pin it up,” he said. “Don’t want it to get pulled out during the fight. Can’t have damaged merchandise.”
“I’m not merchandise,” she said, pulling away from him.
He laughed. “Of course you’re not. No need to get your little panties twisted up.” He turned to look at the other girls, giving them instructions. “The first fight should be over in a few minutes. Make sure these two are ready when the announcer calls for them.” Then the guy turned and left the room. It felt like he took all the oxygen with him. No one moved or said anything for half a minute.
Finally Lauren spoke up. “Rachel, what the hell’s going on? I think we should leave. This place is giving me the creeps.” She stood and pushed the makeup girl away from her. “Stop messing with my face!”
“Find them costumes, quick!” the makeup girl said while she kept trying to dust powder across Lauren’s brow. All three of the other girls fumbled through a rack of clothing that I hadn’t even noticed until now. I ran a quick gaze over the costumes, some flamboyant, some almost puritanical, some that were obviously made for boys. “You can’t leave. Not yet,” she said to Lauren. “They have too much money invested in your event. No fighter would walk away now.” She paused, her brush in midair. “No good fighter, anyway.”
“Rachel?” Lauren stared at me, her skin pale beneath her makeup.
“You’re right, we should go.” Then I tu
rned to the makeup girl, noting once again that she looked like someone I’d seen somewhere before. “What’s going on out there?”
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.
Lost Girls Page 20
