Page 16 of They're Watching You

“Please,” Kara begs. “I need this more than you can imagine.”

“Remember the rules?” Remington asks, almost apologetically. “We can’t cheat because all of our clues were different.”

Kara’s head tips back in desperation. “Fine, then.” I’m certain she’s going to concede; instead, she marches straight up to her pair of chalices, takes a deep breath, and grabs the one with a green jewel.

“Do remember,” Annabelle warns, an unsettling calm to her voice, “the wrong chalice will kill you.”

Kara sets the chalice back down, gnawing on her bottom lips. Her hand remains on the stem as her eyes flood with tears.

Behind us on the staircase, the final initiate, Double Espresso, clambers down.

Kara’s hand darts to the other chalice, this one strung with a purple jewel.

“No!” I shout, and Remington is already lunging for her.

But she gulps it down, terror flooding her eyes as she spins to face us.

Six

I rush toward Kara, fear and wine fogging my brain.Please be okay. Please, please be okay.

She staggers, and Remington catches her. “Why would she do that?” I shout, helping Remington lower her to the stone floor. The final initiate blazes down the tunnel, darting wide eyes at Kara before lumbering on to the display. Clutching a stem with a garnet-colored jewel, he guzzles the thick, red liquid and slams the chalice down victoriously.

On the floor, Kara inhales a deep, wheezing breath. She exhales slowly, her lids fluttering.

Then she sits up. “I…I think I’m fine,” she says, peering down at her extremities uncertainly. My body sinks in a wave of relief. “Would I know by now if I drank the poison?” Kara asks Annabelle.

“Oh yes,” she answers through a laugh. “You’d be writhing and spasming on the floor. Your lungs would essentially be melting, so you’d be spitting them out, not speaking.” Smiling, Annabelle bends down to place the final chain around Kara’s neck. “You’re a bit winded—a bit dramatic too, for that matter. But not dying. Congratulations, you three. Welcome to the Gamemaster’s Society.”

After what Kara just put us through, I’m far from proud. I help her to her feet with a shaky hand, even though I’d like to shove her back over.

Annabelle’s attention falls onto Double Espresso, whose real name I still haven’t learned. “Unfortunately, you are not society material.” She frowns. “You will be escorted out and must take our secret to the grave, on pain of death.”

A hunched-over Double Espresso barely has time to grunt before a swarm of hooded minions prods him toward the trapdoor.

As soon as they’ve gone, our phones are returned and the remaining society members begin to push back their hoods, revealing some familiar faces; Torrey-Wells Academy only has four hundred students. The nine members vary in age. This surprises me at first, until I remember what Gianna said about not valuing seniority.

But shock bolts through me when I spot Larissa Gaines from my lacrosse team, who denied the society’s existence at practice, standing with her back pressed against the nearest pillar. She offers a small wave, and I force one in return.

I continue squinting into the dim light until my gaze lands on one face that forces my lips to part.

Freaking Gavin Holt.

He’s slouching against the stone wall with a smug grin, his brown hair disheveled, ridiculous robe draped over him. I’m tempted to march over and slap him in front of everyone. He was a member this entire time. He could’ve told me what I needed to know about Polly and saved me from this entire night of terror.

Annabelle begins her gliding gait toward the trapdoor. “Tomorrow night, the three of you will get to experience a real meeting of the Gamemaster’s Society. We’ll assemble here promptly at 8 p.m., before the Masquerade Ball. Dress in your finest.”

That’s right. The ball is tomorrow night. Are we dressing up because we’ll be attending? Or is this meeting in place of the dance? Before I get a chance to ask the more pressing question—how we’re supposed to climb that massive ladder in front of a campus full of ball-goers—Annabelle adds as an afterthought, “Oh, and you’ll be admitted through the members’ old cathedral entrance from now on. You’ll find it on the south side of the building, if you look hard enough.”

My fists tighten. Of course there’s an easier way inside this place. One more deadly exhibition I could’ve avoided if Gavin hadn’t lied to me about being denied membership.

Annabelle climbs the staircase, the hem of her immaculate gown clutched between slender white fingers, and the other members line up behind her. Beside me, Remington inches closer. “Hey, Maren.” He smiles, and the firelight flickers over his dark eyes.

“Hey,” I say, trying not to get squashed by the herd in this small, airless space.

“It’s a relief to have a friend in here.”

“Yeah,” I say, and my insides completely overreact to the way he called me a friend.

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