Page 51 of They're Watching You

“Okay, but—”

I hang up and answer Remington’s call, bracing myself for his attempt to keep me from tonight’s meeting. “Hey.”

“Maren,” he says, “did you get the invitation?”

“Yep.”

“So then, our plan is wrecked. We can’t search the catacombs tonight while a meeting is going on.”

“Nope.”

“Look, Annabelle wants me to prevent you from attending—I just found my next task in my dorm room.” I sit up straighter on the bed, shock bursting like a rocket through my limbs. “I’m not going to do it, though. I just wanted you to know. I’ll tell her at the meeting that she has to give me a different task. I want to save Jane, but not at the expense of keeping Polly locked up down there.”

Relief trickles down and eases my extremities. Suddenly, I need to see him. He didn’t sacrifice me and Polly for Jane. Guilt clogs my throat as I push out, “Can you meet me downstairs?”

“I’m already here.”

I end the call, rushing out the door and down the stairs. Outside, he’s leaning against the pathway railing. He tips his head for me to follow him, and that uneasy feeling that made me call Gavin in the first place seeps back in as he ducks behind my dormitory, half-obscured by foliage. My steps slow, and I toss a look behind me. This was a mistake. He’s plotting something. I begin to pivot, but his hand darts out from the shrubbery to grasp my arm and pull me toward him.

I shake him off, backing up until my elbow hits brick.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, showing his hands and shuffling backward.

“Nothing, I—why the bushes?”

“I didn’t want Annabelle to see us together.” His fingers lower to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “She seems to want to pit us against each other, and I’m not sure why.”

The tightness in my stomach loosens. “Maybe the rest of the society is upset that we keep winning everything.”

“No one has quite the motivating factor we do.”

“I’m going to refuse the task too,” I say. “We can defy Annabelle together.”

“Do you think she’ll do something to Polly and Jane if we refuse?”

“I hope not. She only threatened to hurt them if we told anyone. Refusing a task should only result in losing out on the next clue.” Still, I can’t help but worry what sadistic Annabelle will do when she learns we disregarded her task. “Hey,” I say, an idea forming. “What if we make herthinkwe completed the task? I mean, one of us. You could show up, claim your clue, and meanwhile, I’m already hiding in the catacombs. After the meeting, you can find me, and if we’re lucky, your clue will lead us to both of them.”

“So you want to try to trick Annabelle,” he says, the words sinking with doubt. He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “That could fail miserably.”

“What choice do we have? If we refuse the task, best-case scenario, we lose a day or two. Which means Polly and Jane have to spend more time locked away in a cell. Worst-case, Annabelle does something horrible to them. If we can pull this off, we might be able to find the girls tonight.”

He nods, still frowning. “And you’ll be okay down there? It could be hours before the game ends. Where will you hide?”

“Hopefully, somewhere bigger than a sarcophagus. As long as tonight’s game isn’t hide-and-seek, I should be fine. Maybe I’ll even have a chance to do some searching while you play.”

“You’d have to be so careful,” he says, reaching out but then pulling back. “If anyone spots you…”

“I know.” I take a breath and grab his hand, pressing it between both of mine. “What will you tell Annabelle?”

He stares at our hands for a long beat. “Would she believe I seduced you and tied you up somewhere?” He laughs uncomfortably.

“The first part, yes.” I trace small circles with my thumb over his palm, letting one of my hands fall away.

Another silent moment. “Tell her you seduced me, and then told me it was a task. And I was too upset with you and Annabelle to show up tonight.”

His eyes dart up to mine, something like fear flickering in them. But he shrugs, and I wonder if I imagined it. “You’d never fall for that.”

I glance back down at his hand, which he has maneuvered so that our fingers are interlaced. “Of course not,” I say, even as he steps closer.

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