Page 68 of Forsaking All Others

My words trail off as I ask this question, my vision suddenly blurring.

He frowns.

“Your heart rate has become uneven, and your skin has taken on a strange pallor, Catriona.”

“I feel strange,” I acknowledge weakly. “I don’t know what they put in that syringe. Not much went into me, but something did.”

He rises swiftly to his feet.

“I’ll call again for a doctor. A real one,” he adds after a second.

“He won’t give up, you know,” I murmur as he turns to leave. “He’ll never give up, not until I’m under your protection. Maybe not even then.”

“When I catch him, and I will, I’ll watch as you kill him by increments,” he says, his tone deadly. “Rest easy, Catriona. You’re already under my protection.”

52

The beach has always been a soothing place for me.

Tonight, in Western Australia, the weather is warm, the moon is full, and the waves are crashing in even, monotonous sets that would calm even the most harried nerves.

Or they would if I wasn’t on a date with three women.

Thorun, Sona and Evelyn sit on a picnic blanket on the shoreline, safely back from the waves, and sip champagne as the cameras arrayed all around us film every motion, every word.

As the winning team from the Seville contest they’ve earned the right to this group date, but they’d had to wait four days until we flew to our new destination.

Truth be known, all the contestants needed that time to recover before relocating. Whether from drowning or from the torture they were put through, several had required psychological counselling as well as physical rehabilitation. The trial, while successful in eliminating many contestants, had taken its toll on the mansion. Catriona, and two other contestants are still under medical care, but have been flown in nevertheless and are now housed with a specialist medical team in the same sprawling, private glamping accommodation as the rest of the women. The producers had accepted my suggestion that they would be easier to keep a watch on if they were all under one roof. This resort, situated on a barren stretch of coast isolated from the rest of the world, is easy to lock down. I’m sure the reduction in security costs was no small part in their decision-making, although my own security is stationed nearby.

In the lead-up to tonight there was some suggestion that the group date could be conducted around Catriona’s bed. I’d managed to scuttle that idea as firmly as I’d accidentally scuttled her strategy to win the event without having a target on her back. At least this way, by not participating in the date, it might take a little heat off her. Long enough, perhaps, for her to be back and fighting fit.

In the end it was decided that a natural location date would be far better for romantic filmic quality than a bell tent full of medical equipment. Although some of the contestants are clearly not comfortable in a natural environment.

I watch as Evelyn grimaces and, shuddering, flicks a moving shell off the picnic blanket. The hermit crabs scurry in such vast numbers along this stretch of coast that it seems the sand is alive.

Thorun has collected a number of them in a bowl and is studying them intently.

The director holds up a sign now saying I need to speak to each of the women separately. At the end of the date I’m supposed to ask just one of them for a one-on-one follow up.

“Perhaps you’d like to come for a walk, Thorun?”

She smiles in her easy, friendly way, and I hold out a hand to help her up, dropping it as she leans down to take her shoes off.

“Can we walk in the water?”

“If you like.”

I slip my shoes off too and realise it’s exactly what I needed as I follow her down to the water’s edge, where the bioluminescence from the water phosphorescence causes the shoreline to glow as the waves lap the shore.

“It’s magical, isn’t it?” she points to the neon blue water around her ankles. Every beach is different, every day is different. I love the sea. I miss home so much. You couldn’t have picked a better spot for our date.”

“I didn’t pick it,” I shake my head, “every aspect of this game is planned and plotted by others.”

“Oh.”

“Still,” I turn to smile at her, “I’m happy you’re enjoying it.”

“I really am,” she smiles. “The game, though, not so much.”