“Attention, my little does!” Aunt V stood at the front of the room and tapped a champagne glass to get everyone to quiet down. “The Wrecking Ball begins in less than an hour. Once you’re escorted to the limos, you’ll be transported to The Preserve, where the Feast of the Fallen will begin.”
An uproarious cheer answered, the tributes now slightly overstimulated from their vitamin shots and transformations.
“A few quick reminders before we disembark. When you hear the starting bell, the hunt’s officially begun. You may run, hide, or stay and play. The choice, as always, is yours. Remember your contracts. You’re free to protect your body by any means as long as you do so without violating the rules.
“When a doe or stag is captured, the bells will ring again. All captures will be tracked by the organizers, who will be monitoring everyone, including the hunters, from cameras hidden throughout The Preserve. I suggest you keep your mask on at all times if you wish to protect your anonymity.
“There will be clearly marked safe zones to the east and west of the property, and one central to the main house. Use them if you need rest. You have a long night ahead of you, and the hunt doesn’t end until dawn. What is your safeword?”
“Timber!”
“Very good.” Aunt V raised her glass. “Now, a toast…”
Servants appeared with trays of champagne, passing them around in short order. The lab techs removed the IVs.
Daisy lifted her champagne flute and smiled at Maggie, then looked back at Aunt V.
“My beautiful does and my handsome stags.” Aunt V’s proud gaze swept over the tributes, her smile as genuine as her emotion. “Whatever your goals, whatever your fears, whatever you’re running toward or running from—may fortune forever favor you.”
They drank as one. A room full of strangers who might never know each other again once The Feast was done. Each tribute had fought some sort of battle in order to be there, and now they were heading into an unknown war.
Daisy drank her champagne, careful to swallow every last drop.
A strange awareness fell like a hush over the room.
“I hadn’t expected this to be so emotional,” Maggie whispered as the double doors opened.
“Please follow the escorts to the first floor,” Aunt V instructed.
Daisy’s heart raced. This was it. It was finally happening. The feast was about to begin.
Maggie’s fingers laced with hers in a silent show of solidarity that startled Daisy. She looked down at their interlocked fingers and back at Maggie.
Trust no one.
“Good luck, Daisy,” she whispered. “It’s nice to go through this with a friend.”
Daisy’s hand tightened, and she gave a quick nod. “Good luck, Maggie.”
The Becoming ceremonies concluded as they were led from the hotel like diamonds pouring into the night, elegant swans in a tidy row.
None of the tributes knew what lay ahead, what they might discover in the darkness, or what they might surrender by dawn. It was then, Daisy realized, that it was called The Becoming rather than something more conclusive. This was only the beginning of their transformation.
No one, including the stewards, could foresee what the hours ahead would bring. Not a single person could determine what Daisy or anyone might become.
Chapter Thirteen
The Body and the Blood
Jack woke to the smell of soup and the distant clatter of pipes.
Unfamiliar. Where was he?
Grey light filtered through a soaped window covered in swirls of grime and frost. Water-stained ceiling. Peeling wallpaper the color of old teeth. A radiator hissing in the corner like a dying animal.
Not the estate. Not home.
He tried to sit up, but his skull throbbed as if split open from the inside. The room tilted violently, and he collapsed, the stale scent of cigarette smoke masked in lavender wafting around his face as he moaned.
