Page 86 of They're Watching You

Remington lurches into the doorway, holding on to the frame as if for dear life.

Thirty-Four

Panic blares in my ears like a foghorn. He didn’t find the antidote. So what is he doinghere?

“Remington!” Jane pushes through us to throw her arms around him. But he wrenches away.

“Maren,” he says, stopping to gasp for breath. A look of disgust crosses his face as he takes in my hand wrapped in Gavin’s before I release it. “Come on.”

Gavin sidesteps in front of me. “That’s not quite how this is going to go.”

“I’d like to see you try to show me how this is going to go.” Remington releases the door frame and takes a lumbering step toward Gavin, who easily dodges Remington’s veering fist.

“Please,” I whisper to Polly and Jane. “If you two buy us some time, I can get him help before it’s too late.”

“You don’t need him,” Polly says. “Neither of you does. And I’m not giving up my new title for him. Besides, if not him, someone else will have to die. We can’t just skip the sacrifice. We could lose everything the society has built.”

“You can’t really believe that,” I hiss.

Polly rolls her eyes. “Even if I wanted to help, I wouldn’t be able to. You think we’re alone in here?” She points to the corner of the ceiling. “They’re watching our every move. The moment you two run, half a dozen society members will be on you. And he’s not exactly in any condition to put up a fight.”

She’s certainly right about that. Having given up on subduing Gavin, Remington sinks to the ground. His complexion is sallow, eyes still that unnatural black, and I can hear the sound of his strangled breathing from across the room.

Still, making a run for it could be our only option. Maybe if I can help him to his feet, whatever adrenaline is left will combine with his athlete’s drive to make it out of here.

I pad toward him, still unsteady myself, but a voice drifts in from the corridor, nearly knocking me sideways.

“There you are.” Behind me, Annabelle glides into the room, pushing back her hood and shaking her glossy blond locks out. “Remington, you made my job so much easier.”

Remington growls, flashing a row of what appear to be blackened teeth, and lunges for her. She hops, dodging his efforts with a giggle. I squint at Remington, but his mouth is shut. Am I still seeing things?

I must be, since no one else seemed to notice Remington’s teeth.

“But I am disappointed in you,” she says, wagging her finger like a stern dog owner. “You had so many fans, and I was your biggest one. There are a lot of disappointed faces in the viewing room. Though,” she adds, gaze falling on me for the first time, “I must say, Maren. You were rather ruthless. Allowing Remington to give you his advantage and then finishing up the course all by yourself. You’ll always have a place here, you know. How does Major Supreme sound?”

“Sounds like a bunch of culty cultish crap. You really think Pelops will bless you if you kill someone tonight?”

“Oh Maren,” she says, pursing her lips, “he already has. Which is why we’ll continue living as gods among men, while you’re thrown out of Torrey-Wells for insufficient funding. Or worse, depending on how you behave at the end of all this. Now, if you’d all follow me, we must proceed with the night’s events.”

“Please,” I beg, tears flooding my eyes as Remington’s strong body just lies there. “I know you don’t want to do this. Just because your dad is”—I bite back the horrible names I want to call him—“societydoesn’t mean you have to live this way.”

But Annabelle ignores me, inspecting a red fingernail in the gauzy light.

“Are we just going to leave him here?” Jane asks, looking down at her ex with a mixture of concern and fear.

Gavin sighs, rubbing his face. “You can bring him to the feast. I know you and Maren will want to say your goodbyes. Besides, the more incapacitated he becomes, the easier the ritual will be.”

“Thoughtful of you,” I say, attempting to rush over but losing equilibrium.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Annabelle says, grabbing my wrist. “Jane will help him. Come along.” She prods at me, soon joined by Polly, until I relent, turning down the corridor after Gavin.

My skin squirms as I allow Polly to support me through a bout of dizziness. We pass the horrible fresco of the eyes, following Gavin, who removes a large wooden beam lock, apparently meant to keep things in. My tongue sticks to the roof of my parched mouth and my stomach flips. It’s another trick. They’re planning to lock us both inside.

But we enter the chamber, finding it fit with a long, wooden table and chairs. It’s set with eight white plates, accompanied by chalices filled with red wine. A spread of various breads, cheeses, and fancy cakes fills the center.

Annabelle moves to the opposite side of the table and takes a seat. “Please, sit,” she says, raising a chalice and taking a sip. “Congratulations to the champions.” She flashes that knowing smile I’d like so very much to punch off her face.

“Thank you so much, Annabelle,” I coo, unhooking my arm from Polly’s and dropping into a seat near the door.

---