Page 36 of They're Watching You

“That’s what you think?” Firelight dances on the stairwell, its tendrils illuminating Remington’s face, which jerks back now. “Maren, that’s not what this is. Remember when I said the society offered me something?”

“Something you’d be a fool to refuse,” I finish.

He nods. Here it comes. Whatever vile act he committed that the Gamemaster’s Society has agreed to erase. His eyes don’t meet mine as he runs a hand through his dark curls. “Last year,” he starts, lowering his voice when more movement rumbles through the stairwell.

“I’m listening,” I press.

But a shadow covers him now and blots out the flickering firelight. “You,” comes a voice from the bottom step. The shadow transforms, becoming Gavin. He thrusts something forward and nearly hits Remington in the face. “I challenge you to whatever’s in this envelope.”

Fourteen

“You’re an idiot,” Remington says, irritation carving lines over his forehead.

Gavinisan idiot. At least, if the duel is a battle of strength or athleticism.

If it’s a battle of the mind, however, it could be anyone’s game.

“Maybe I am.” Gavin slouches against a pillar, fanning his face with the envelope, even though it’s freezing down here.

Remington sighs loudly. “You only have one coin. If I beat you—and I assure you, I will beat you—you’re out.”

“It had to be done,” Gavin says simply. “You were bothering Maren.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shh.” Gavin smirks, knowing he’s riled Remington up. “We’re wasting my search time with talking. I have to eliminate you so you’ll stop slowing my ally down.”

“Yourally?” Remington throws me a wide-eyed look.

“I mean, technically,” I say, “I didn’t agree to be anyone’s ally. Maybe you twoshouldfight it out. Victory or dust and all.”

Remington seethes in a way that makes my insides flutter.

Gavin smiles proudly. “So we’re agreed.” He makes to rip open the envelope, and I grab his hand.

“Wait!” I shout. “Maybe we should hold off on the duel.” Remington’s eyes are stuck to my hand on Gavin’s, but he lifts them to join Gavin in staring incredulously at me. “The three of us could align ourselves until the very end. I think with both of your…verydifferentskill sets, the three of us will get to Jordan a lot faster than any two of us. Then, once we’ve located her, the two of you can duel it out.” They’ve barely blinked since I started my appeal. “You don’t want to sit out the whole game, do you? This way, at least you both get to play.”

The slap of a shoe against stone sounds in the stairwell again, and Gavin jumps to attention. “I’m in if he’s in.”

The footsteps are closer now. Remington slips an arm around my back, and the three of us press beneath the archway and into the next, lantern-lined chamber. I stride to the far wall, where another sunken arch leads to an alcove. A massive stone sarcophagus sits in the center, and I have to duck to make it beneath the recessed ceiling.

Elaborate carvings adorn the stonework of the sarcophagus, and I kneel, shining my phone’s light over it to get a better look. I make out a horse-drawn chariot, its rider baring sharp teeth as his steed tramples a bleeding charioteer on the ground. I frown up at Gavin. “There would be guards with Jordan, right? If we were at the right sarcophagus, I mean.”

He turns around, heading back into the chamber. “The only thing I know is she wouldn’t be this easy to find. The Gamemaster wants to challenge us. We’re looking for a locked vault or a hidden chamber you don’t see unless you happen to hum the right tune as you pass by it. Something like that.”

“So, something straight out of a fairytale, basically.”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Remington says, brushing the dust off his pants, “on the off chance that Annabelle stuck Jordan right in front of us so she could sit and laugh about it for the rest of the year, help me move this lid.”

Gavin spins, annoyance pinching his lips. But he concedes, probably because that sounds exactly like something Annabelle would do.

Together, the three of us lift and push the massive stone lid enough to reveal its contents. The already-musty scent of the tomb ripens. “Jordan,” I whisper into the box.

“She’s not in here,” Remington says, his hand falling onto my shoulder.

“No, but…”Something is. “What’s in it?”

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