Page 17 of Thrall
Pallas Radio: For the Nocturnal Among Usaired from 9:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., according to the card. It was 9:45 now. Lucy didn’t have a radio, she doubted anyone had a radio anymore that wasn’t inside a car. But it took her less than five minutes to find a radio app for her phone.
When she carefully tuned the app to 87.1, the signal was faint at first. The touch-screen slider wasn’t exactly built for nuance. But when she tapped the bar backward one last time, the voice on the other end of the signal snapped into focus.
“We’re about fifteen minutes from the hour now.” The host had a steady contralto, smooth as water from a ladle. There was a smile in her voice. Not a broad one. The kind of thin, soft curve that hides all your teeth. “Once again, I’m your host, Pallas. Does waiting ever get easier, Rollins? Most of this job is waiting, but that hasn’t made it much more bearable yet. It could be worse, though. I could be waiting without all of you here, waiting with me. So let’s not wait in silence, shall we? First, a few updates.
“We’d like to thank last week’s caller again for the invaluable information on Sadie Grainger’s last whereabouts,” Pallas said. “Sightings of our friend with the cold hands around Holmwood Hall that week remain unconfirmed. But caller number twenty-seven’s description of Sadie’s mental state is consistent with that of Addison Greene, our potential fall semester victim of two years ago. Stay safe out there, caller number twenty-seven.”
Lucy sat up a little straighter in her bed. She remembered the Sadie Grainger poster at the bus shelter, clearly something that had been put together by Sadie’s parents.We’re not angry, it had said. As if Sadie, or someone who knew her, was in a position to be coaxed back.
But that was not how Pallas spoke of her now.
“And speaking of Addison,” Pallas said. “Let’s not lose sight of her as the search for Sadie continues. As we all know, our friend with the cold hands is drawn to…isolated people. Sadie’s family hasn’t forgotten her. Addison hasn’t been so lucky. It’s a sobering reminder that not everyone comes to this campus with a family who has their back. We have to be Addison’s family, Rollins. As always, if you have any information, you know where to find me.”
She let that sit, for a moment. Her breathing echoed across the airwaves. Against it, Lucy could hear how fast her own breathing had become.
“We’ve also confirmed a credible sighting of our friend in the vicinity of Falls Quad on Friday night. Caller number five, it was good to hear from you again. We are still actively seeking information on the potential Friday incident, but—if you don’t mind, we’re asking that you hold that thought just a little while. For those of you just tuning in, we’re keeping our phone lines clear tonight in the hopes that our special guest got the message. Caller number thirty-two, are you listening yet?”
Lucy froze. Something in the host’s calming voice had shifted. Sharpened. Her attention narrowing from her faceless audience to just one person.
An invited special guest.
“I know you’re scared, caller number thirty-two.” It was almost soft enough to be inaudible. “I haven’t been where you are. Not exactly. But I think I can imagine how it feels. I know you have no reason to believe me, but youareamong friends here. And we can’t help you until you pick up the phone.”
Lucy swiped uselessly at the moisture slipping down her face. She hadn’t thought she had any tears left in her. Then again, she hadn’t thought she had the ability to trust strangers anymore, either.
That wasn’t true, though. Was it? For every exhausted inch she’d crawled since the party, she’d done it because someone was helping her. Mila’s cardigan was still crumpled on the corner of her bed. There was an unread text from Natalie sitting on her phone. Even Alicia, as unpleasant as she’d been, was the only reason Lucy knew as much as she did now. Strangers were the only reason she’d made it this far. What was one more?
She turned off the overhead lights. It wasn’t going to do anything to hide her—the door was already shut and locked, the blinds drawn. It just felt safer somehow, making this call in the dark.
She closed the radio app. Pallas’s voice, midsentence, was snuffed into silence. And, with shaking fingers, Lucy keyed in the number.
The line at Pallas Radio rang just twice. The second ring had barely finished when the call was answered. When Pallas’s calm, gentle radio voice emanated through her speakerphone, Lucy flinched.
“Well, Rollins. Our wait may be over.” Pallas sounded so much closer on the other end of the line. Like she was sitting just on the end of the bed. “Welcome to the show, caller number thirty-two. Are you who I think you are?”
Lucy’s lips had barely parted when Pallas added, “Now, before you answer that, just one thing. I meant what I said. You’re among friends here. But we can’t exactly control who’s listening, either. If you’re still listening to the show through your radio, you’ll be able to hear that we’ve disguised your voice. While you’re on the air, don’t use your name. Answer with as little identifying information as you can.”
A laugh bubbled up through Lucy’s throat. “How do I know I’m the caller number thirty-two you were expecting?”
“I don’t go handing out invitations to just anyone, you know.” A hint of wryness crept into Pallas’s voice. “I asked one person to call tonight. Is that you?”
Lucy swallowed. The air felt cool and dusty in her throat. “Yes,” she said. Because there was no denying it now.
“Good,” Pallas said. “Now. We’ve got a lot to discuss. But why don’t you start us off? I’m sure you have questions.”
Lucy laughed again, intentionally this time. “I don’t think all my questions would fit into your time slot.”
“That’s fine,” Pallas said. “Let’s just go one at a time.”
For a long moment, Lucy just listened to the sounds of Pallas on the other line, waiting for her. But she couldn’t stall forever. So finally, she asked. “Do you know what happened to me at the party?”
“I do,” Pallas said. No hesitation.
“The person I’m looking for,” Lucy said. “Is he the…‘friend with the cold hands’ you keep talking about?”
“He is,” Pallas said.
The next words closed tight around Lucy’s chest. “What is he?”
