Bridget, Panthea, and Sparky might have been astonished by this development, but they did not object. They holstered their weapons. Their understanding was a testament to the supernatural connections that were, hour by hour, uniting the four of us in a cause.
To Emmerich, I said, “Camilla. So delicious. How on earth did you . . . acquire her?”
A narcissist absolutely convinced that he had transcended all human limitations, including mortality, Emmerich preened as if we were discussing nothing more dangerous to his future than collecting butterflies to pin to a specimen board. “I have field agents who’re always scouting for a certain type, for women and men who combine beauty and innocence, who are intelligent but guileless. To qualify as a Special Selection, their elegance must make them appear to be delicate, even fragile, but they should in fact be mentally strong, so they can withstand being emotionally broken over and over again. Visitors who come here, people of accomplishment, wield great power in government, industry, media, and the arts—and yet can’t risk fulfilling certain needs in the Moujik society. It is those like Camilla who draw them here. Because these elites find their desires fulfilled, their protection is extended to the Oasis, ensuring that we may forever operate as though we are an independent nation.”
“Nihilim,” I said.
He looked puzzled. “Excuse me?”
I struggled to keep my voice light, to seem merely curious rather than like an interrogator. “Your field agents, your scouts, those who find these Special Selections and present them to you—are they Nihilim?”
“I’m not familiar with that word.”
“Well, I mean, do you know the true names of these scouts? Do you background them? How can you confidently vet someone to commit a kidnapping for you?”
He frowned. “They prove their worth and are rewarded. In some lines of work, you understand, résumés and letters of recommendation aren’t in the interest of either employee or employer.”
I smiled, nodded. “Yes, of course, snatching a delicious item like Camilla, leaving no slightest trail to be followed, making sure that those who cared about her are led only into blind alleys—that would require the scouts to have great skill in such matters. The trust between you and them would have to be mutual, beyond doubt. Listen, Mr. Emmerich, I want to be with Camilla.”
Stepping away from the podium, as if prepared to lead us to her, he instead raised both hands with his palms toward me in a no-can-do gesture. “I’m sorry to say that’s not possible. But we can review the others, any one of which will satisfy as surely as she would have done.”
“But why not Camilla?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “It is the nature of desire that sometimes it becomes all consuming and all demanding and must be satisfied even at great cost. In Camilla’s case, a recent visitor was required to compensate the Oasis in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars for his indulgence. A Moujik is only a Moujik, but one of them special enough for our Special Selections can’t just be written off as if she were a sofa pillow stained by spilled wine.”
I stood benumbed, unable to move, but I could think and feel. I felt too much, and all of it too sharply. My heart pumped more than blood through me, pumped a darkness that I’d never known before, not the sludge of depression, but the black fog of wrath. “She’s dead?”
“The overly passionate visitor knew the cost before he did the deed. He didn’t feel imposed upon. We are honored by the caliber of our visitors and never take advantage of them.”
“Half a million dollars,” I said. “That’s what a life is worth here?”
“This one would have been worth more if she were twenty instead of twenty-eight, and if she hadn’t been here six years already. Much good use was made of her, with less to come.”
Emmerich’s years in the Oasis, his long immersion in the Way, had left him so obtuse that when his moral sense evaporated, so did his survival instinct. Having never been punished for his heinous crimes, having redefined them as virtues, and having been rewarded—endlessly pleasured—for them, he was no longer capable of feeling guilt or of experiencing a fight-or-flight reaction.
“She was worth more, so much more,” I said. “I would have done anything to keep her alive.”
“Well,” Emmerich said, “value is in the eye of the beholder. There are important visitors who will be very dissatisfied not to see her in the Selections henceforth. But the scouts are now busy searching. And in the end, as I said, even the most desirable Moujik is nothing more than a Moujik, after all. Another one who excites extreme desire will be found. More than one. A dozen. And then a choice will be made. Meanwhile, I assure you, others are available to bring you a satisfaction so intense, so complete, that it is beyond your wildest dreams.”