Page 37 of They're Watching You

“I don’t know,” Gavin says, “but we don’t really have time—”

Remington and I are already situated with our fingers beneath the lid. We grunt and heft until the lid moves another six inches.

My breath hitches. Inside the box, dressed in ancient, tattered clothing, lies a skeleton.

“Whoa,” Gavin whispers, reaching into the sarcophagus.

“What are you doing?” I snatch his hand back.

“Some archaeological work,” he says, shaking his hand like I’ve injured him. “When’s the last time you were in arealcrypt withrealbodies?”

“Apparently, two nights ago,” I deadpan. “And the night before that too. You’re telling me you didn’t know this was an actual crypt?” Annabelle said this place was built for the society, before the academy was even erected. I figured they liked the secrecy below grounds, not that they’d actually buried people down here.

“I knew.” Gavin leans over the dust-ridden box. “But I never opened one of these things before.”

“Who do you think this guy was?” Remington asks, as enthralled as Gavin.

“We need to find Jordan,” I say, abandoning the coffin. “For all we know, this poor dead guy was simply playing princess for a former Annabelle.”

The guys follow me back inside the open chamber, where two wooden doors with brass knobs stand.

“Left or right?” Remington asks.

“Right, obviously.” Gavin strides toward it before turning, head down in the exact opposite direction. “I meant left, of course.”

“Maybe we should split up,” Remington says uncertainly.

“Excellent idea.” Gavin nods, looping his arm through mine. “We will definitely meet up with you later, and definitely include you when we find the princess. Victory or dust to you, sir.”

“No.” Remington blocks the left door. “I meant, Maren andIwill go through the right side, and you’ll go through the left. We have our phones, so we can text each other once we find Jordan.”

“Likely story,” Gavin says, leaning an elbow onto a low stone wall.

“Even if you two could trust each other,” I add, holding up my phone, “there’s no cell reception on this level. Either we stick together, or the alliance is off.”

“Maren,” Remington pleads through his teeth, “this guy is only slowing us down. Cut off the dead limb.”

Gavin’s smirk sinks slightly as he watches me.

“He’s not a dead limb,” I say. “Just an absentminded, somewhat pyromaniacal limb. And he may come in handy, you know, if the only way to get through a door is to devise a bomb out of materials you find in a tomb.”

Gavin’s eyes light up, his shoulders straightening. He twists the knob on the right and pulls, and the three of us make our way into another dark chamber. On the far wall, lanterns are mounted in small niches. Beneath them, a large cutaway holds another sarcophagus.

We race toward it, but a door off to the left swings open, nearly knocking Gavin over.

In struts Donella.

We spin, our backs to the coffin as she marches over, whipping a card in front of my face. “I challenge you,” she snarls, and I wish more than anything I were the dragon so I could laugh in her face and take her gold.

My fists ball. “See if Jordan’s in there,” I whisper into Remington’s ear, tipping my head toward the sarcophagus.

He nods, and I turn to face Donella, who’s already tearing open the envelope. “What’s the duel?”

“‘First knight to complete the challenge wins,’” she reads. Then she holds her hand out to me, sliding one of two cards as well as a miniature fountain pen into mine. Before I comprehend what’s going on, Donella dives to the floor by the wall where the lantern light shines brightest and begins scribbling furiously.

It’s almost impossible to see in the chamber, so I fumble in my pocket for my phone and turn on the light, examining the card.

It’s a labyrinth.

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