Page 60 of They're Watching You

“Buthowdid she get down here?” Gavin asks, waving a hand.

“There must be another access point,” Remington says. Now that he mentions it, I have a hard time envisioning Annabelle crawling through that rat tunnel.

As much as I’d like to stand around and argue with Remington some more, if his theory stands, we would have to move now. And quickly.

I nod, my legs already moving toward the exit when Gavin grabs my shoulder. “Maren? Are you sure you want to disobey? She asked you to stay here. The last time you two broke her rules, she took it out on the girls.”

“Follow her rules so we can saveonegirl? That’s what you think I should do?”

Gavin’s hands fidget at his sides. “There are so many ways this can go wrong if we stick with him. An hour ago, I saw what he could do with his bare hands. Let’s say we go rogue. As soon as you turn a dark corner—which will be very, very soon in this place—he is going to grab you and playpankrationon your neck until it snaps.”

“I know,” I say, cringing. I’m an idiot. For ignoring Gavin’s advice, yet again. “But you saw the video. I’ve done all of this to save Polly. If I give up now, she could die.”

Gavin rubs at his temple, clearly incapable of handling my stupidity. “Fine,” he mutters. “Let’s run Annabelle down and try not to get pankrated.”

“Getting pankrated is the worst. Especially when it’s your neck.”

In the doorway, Remington hovers, holding his torch. When he spots us coming, he slips out into the dark passage to lead the way.

A few yards down, we hit aT. “Should we split up?” Remington asks, lifting his torch to glance in either direction.

“No,” Gavin says before turning to me. “See? He’s trying to go off on his own so he can win.”

“We don’t even know the game, Gavin.”

“Still. He can’t be left alone. And you can’t go with him, for obvious reasons.”

“Well,” I say, my throat drying up, “youcould go with him.”

Gavin’s mouth opens, but he only blinks and clutches his neck. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said?”

“He’s not playing againstyou.”

Beside us, Remington taps his foot in irritation. “Any day now would be great.” He starts pacing. “And I’m not playingagainst anyone. Except maybe Annabelle.”

“Who’s getting away,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

Gavin growls, swinging his flashlight to the left. “Fine. But take one last look at this neck. Because in a few minutes it’s not going to be this perfectly straight.”

Begrudgingly, he marches off after Remington, and I turn down the corridor to the right, awkwardly dangling my lantern handle as I race. A few paces in, it becomes clear that this corridor isn’t like the rest. Unlike the bare stone walls elsewhere in the catacombs, my weak light zigzags over a series of frescoes. A very unsettling series.

To my right, a finely dressed young woman sits down to a feast. But as the next image unfolds, the food set before her is made up of the faces of living people, while the guests seated at her table are decomposing corpses. Another scene plays on the left, but I barely glance at it before a flash of light plays over the tunnel up ahead.

It isn’t my light.

I pick up my steps, my lantern clanging against my thigh. “Polly!” I scream, diving after the bounding glow.

“Maren!”

My heart catapults into my throat. It’s really her.

“Help!” she shrieks.

My feet slap against the stone, backpack jostling over my spine as the light is lost behind a corner. Polly’s screams fade as if sucked into an abyss. “Polly!” I call again, panic shredding my voice.

A roar sounds, like stone scraping stone. I fly to the end of the passageway, my lungs burning. The sound stops before I can decipher where it’s coming from, and I nearly stumble over a still-lit torch abandoned on the ground.

Firelight dances over the cracks and grooves as I scan the corridor. Annabelle must’ve escaped through the wall. But I can’t tell where.

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