Page 4 of Daemonium

I could tell she had more to say but decided to hold back. I didn’t know whether to be troubled by their bizarre relationship or relieved. Honestly, I had no room to judge. Ky and I had done things behind closed doors almost from the moment we were confined by them. I had yet to share with her and Mel the kind of relationship he and I had, though one could wager they were already well aware.

As for Ciaran, his methods may have been a bit twisted, but he had protected Lana since we’d gotten on that shuttle bus together. It seemed he intended to keep doing so and I was in full support of that—for now at least. I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering how to bring up one subject that hadn’t yet been mentioned. I had a growing list of questions about this person, specifically. It seemed eons ago now that Selena was with us.

I was certain the guys had their reasons for it, but I couldn’t say why Mel and Lana hadn’t breathed a peep of her name.

“What--?”

“What is it?”

Lana and Ky asked at the same time, his voice overshadowing hers.

She looked at him bemusedly, but his attention remained trained on me.

“It’s not important,” I replied to both of them, unsure how to ask what I wanted without making things more confusing than they already were. I lightly tapped the tabletop, bringing the focus back to our current dilemma. “The games are preplanned, right? And there are cameras everywhere. How will we go off course and make our own path?”

“The cameras are necessary for broadcasting the slaughter,” Kyrous explained with zero connotation.

I smiled at him even though he failed to answer my question. There was a momentary lapse of silence and then Brody slightly shifted on his feet. “Uh, but you are partially correct about the games. Each challenge presented has a definitive answer.”

Charon nodded once in agreement. “Only, survival isn’t guaranteed or contingent on you figuring it out. If that were solely the case, the betting system would be less effective.”

“Well, that part was obvious. The challenges crafted by complete fucking psychopaths weren’t enough. They had to add in the whole kill or be killed spin too,” Melantha remarked sarcastically. “By the way, how did you all pull this off? Us being here right now and the cars as a distraction?”

Maverick shrugged dismissively. “We know a few loopholes and have a couple of connections.”

That sounded rather ominous. Judging by the way Lana was staring him down, she wasn’t okay with that reply either. “Are one of you going to key us in on those connections, or?”

“I’d like to know too,” Mel seconded.

“A Game Maker for starters,” Kyrous revealed.

“You know the Game Maker?”

“We know a game maker,” Ciaran corrected me. “There’s at least a dozen per location.”

Location? I started to question what he meant by that, but Mel spoke first.

“If you’ve got the need for someone like that in your corner then I’m assuming we can’t avoid the games altogether.”

“Your assumption would be correct,” Charon confirmed. “We can forge our own path, somewhat. We’ll still have to continue playing along. Half the board committed to the show of the century. Getting out of here scotch-free? We would sooner be shot dead and guns are one of the few weapon exclusions they have.”

Lana’s brow furrowed. “Exactly how long have you all been participating in these shows?”

When no one volunteered to answer, Ciaran swiftly wrangled the conversation. “Listen, it would be great to stand around and tell campfire stories, but this short reprieve was only possible because HQ needs to cover their asses and figure out how to handle us. If it makes you feel better the games will be a little simpler now.”

“What is your definition of simple, Ciaran? Dodging grenades?”

Maverick and Brody both laughed.

“No, smartass. What I meant was we had a bit of assistance in choosing our route.”

“From whom?” Mel asked, glancing around the table.

“Well,” he began smugly. “It just so happens that we’ve got our Game Maker’s son here with us. He’s actually proven to be somewhat useful.”

There was only one person inside the warehouse he could’ve been referring to.

Almost instinctively all of our heads swiveled in Dion’s direction. He must have been paying more attention than I thought because he was staring right back, glasses no longer spinning between his fingers.

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