Page 13 of They're Watching You

Five

My foot touches ground and I wobble on my heel. A firm hand takes my arm and steadies me. I find myself looking up into Remington Cruz’s dark features. I flush in embarrassment, but he smiles, his piercing brown eyes meeting mine. My stomach ripples the way it did when he handed me that damned donut.

Torches line the walls, illuminating a stone vault, its roof formed of several pillared arches. The tunnel stretches out ahead, its depths seemingly endless. The air is frigid. “Whatisthis place?” I whisper to Remington, whose eyes are as wide as mine in the muted light.

“Some sort of crypt,” he mutters.

A crypt. Meaning a place full of dead bodies. Buried bodies. This must be the place where they stuff us into a sarcophagus and wait until we cry mercy. I glance back at the trapdoor, only to see one of the hooded figures pull it shut.

There goes my way out of here.

“Welcome to the catacombs,” Annabelle says, stepping into the center of the narrow vault, “a Gamemaster’s Society secret. This series of underground tunnels was erected in 1850, before the academy was established, for this very society’s purposes. If you should fail your initiation challenge, you must carry this secret to your grave. On pain of death.”

Death? Catacombs built for a secret society? I scan the stone walls, searching for the sarcophagi or whatever it is they keep down here, and my gaze lands on a familiar symbol carved into the stone wall. The one from the wax seal: a circle slashed through the middle on a diagonal.

“A linchpin,” a hooded boy beside me says, noting my focus. “The society’s emblem.”

“What’s a linchpin?” I ask, keeping my voice low, but the boy flicks his chin toward Annabelle.

“I’m pleased and honored to announce that tonight we have a special guest member here to commence our initiation ritual.” Off to the side, one of the figures lets her hood fall back, revealing a head full of glossy brown hair. When the woman’s face pushes into the candlelight, a series of gasps resounds throughout the chamber. “Wait a minute,” I say to Remington, whose lips are parted in awe, “isn’t that—”

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Gianna Guardiola.”

Everyone applauds as the actress moves to the front of the room. “But how?” I whisper, unable to process how I’m seeing the star ofLady Legendand countless other blockbusters a few yards away from me. In real life.

“I’ve heard she’s a Major Supreme,” whispers the hooded boy, as if that means something to me. “And when she was a Minor Supreme, the society worked some deal to keep her out of prison.”

“What’d she do?” asks Kara, who presses in closer, standing on her tiptoes to get into this discussion.

But at the front, Gianna flashes her big-screen, professionally whitened smile at us, and the boy shushes Kara. “What an exciting night,” Gianna says, gaze flitting from the hooded members and stopping to rest on the initiates. “You’ve been called here because we believe you may possess such values as our society upholds. Values such as competition, strength, cunning, and drive. To put it plainly, we esteemwinners.” She begins pacing in front of the display table, her heels clacking against the stone. “The society looks to our patron saint, the Greek hero Pelops, whom many scholars credit with the mythological origin of the Olympic games. Pelops sought the hand of Hippodamia, the daughter of King Oenomaus of Pisa. But the king feared an oracle foretelling his own death at the hands of his daughter’s husband. The king challenged his daughter’s suitor to a chariot race under the guarantee that if Pelops won, he could marry his daughter.” Gianna’s head tilts, her eyes narrowing. “If Pelops lost, however, his head would decorate the king’s palace.”

“Now, Pelops was not only handsome, but quite cunning. He bribed the king’s charioteer, Myrtilos, into aiding him. Myrtilos exchanged the bronze linchpins that held together the king’s wheels with wax ones. When the wax melted, King Oenomaus’s chariot fell apart. The king was dragged to his death by his horses.”

“To honor the fallen king and to thank the gods for his victory, Pelops held the first Games. The Gamemaster’s Society was built upon this legend.”

Obviously. Because this society is nuts. I glance at Remington, gauging his reaction, but he seems to be eating it up. “We prize neither legacy, nor seniority, nor sheer intelligence, nor wealth. All of those things will turn to dust the moment a stronger or cleverer opponent comes along. Just like the king.”

Victory or dust. What the hell did Polly get herself into?

“Take me, for example,” Gianna continues. “When the society found me, I was one bad binge away from expulsion and jail time. But they saw my true potential and unlocked it. I discovered my home and my forever place in this world.” An almost palpable energy buzzes in the room as her chemically plumped pink lips arch. “Good luck, everyone.”

Annabelle makes her way toward the display now, and Kara turns to the hooded boy. “You said something about Major Supreme. Is that the highest level?”

The boy stares out at her from beneath the dark fabric and then lets out an airy laugh. “Of course not. The highest you can achieve is to become the Gamemaster.”

“Thank you, Gianna,” Annabelle says, clapping lightly. She waits for the room to quiet down before motioning with an outstretched hand to a display of chalices, each ornamented with a small colored jewel. “Just as Pelops held the Games to honor those he credited with his success, we now hold our own games to honor him.”

“And because they’re fun!” shouts a hooded figure from somewhere at the back of the vault.

Annabelle’s features pinch momentarily, but she laughs. “And because they are extremely diverting, of course. Now, it’s time to see how strong and clever you are. Will my initiates please step forth?”

Here it comes. The part where she tells us to step into a sarcophagus. I move with the other three initiates, each of us stopping before a set of two chalices. Yellow and black jewels dangle from mine. Remington stands behind two chalices strung with green and red jewels. Kara is positioned on his other side, followed by Double Espresso on the far end.

“You have two chalices before you. One contains wine. The other…” Her lips curl deviously. “Poison.”

My stomach squirms. She must be using the wordpoisonfor dramatics. It’s probably a laxative—something designed to make us miserable for a few hours.

“You will be given a card with a clue. A scavenger hunt, so to speak. Your clue may lead you anywhere on the academy grounds. Be forewarned: getting caught by security will be an automatic disqualification. No two clues are alike, so don’t bother attempting to cheat. If you solve your clue, it will lead to another card that will inform you which cup is safe to drink. All you have to do is return and drink the proper chalice’s contents.”

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