Page 87 of They're Watching You

Jane helps Remington into a seat on the corner, placing herself between us. The pathetic way his eyes keep darting about the room stabs at my heart. He’s seeing things.

“Eat up,” Gavin says with a frown.

“I think I’ve learned my lesson about the society’s diet,” I say.

“Oh, you’re all being silly.” Annabelle picks up a white wedge and pops it into her mouth. She washes it down with a swig of wine. “See? Not poison.”

“That’s what you said in the cottage.”

Polly is already scarfing down food like she really has been kept in a cell all this time. She grabs a cluster of grapes and begins plucking them off and popping them into her mouth, one by one. On my other side, Jane guzzles red wine.

My lips curl in disgust. Look at them.The gods. Drinking wine while the rest of us fight for our lives.

I turn back to Polly, to the friend I’ve missed with my whole heart this semester. With everything in me, I will her to look at me, to snap out of this terrible fantasy. To take my hand so that together, we can help Remington and flee the catacombs for good.

Instead, her stare, full of that enraptured shine, is fastened to Gavin. “Polly,” I say, leaning closer to whisper. “It’s not too late to get him out of here.” I flick my head in Remington’s direction, helplessness gripping me as I watch him reach out and snatch for something that isn’t there. “No one has to die.”

“Of course someone has to die!” Polly’s eyes brim with that feverish glow. “Don’t you see? This is the small price we pay to have everything we could ever desire.”

I grit my teeth and pound a fist against the table, sending a wave of water from the pitcher splashing onto the table. Now that I’ve seen the tall glass pitcher sweating in the center of the table, ice cubes floating at the top, there’s nothing I’d like more than to gulp it all down. Though most of my symptoms have subsided, the thirst is as bad as it was an hour ago. But it’s too risky. I cast a glance at the doorway behind me. Where exactly are these other society members? If they’re watching from another level, I might be able to outrun them. Except Remington would never make it. I’m not even sure he still grasps what’s happening as he swats at another invisible fly.

Then his gaze snaps to mine. And his pupils—they’re no longer too big and black.

Maybe it’s another part of the poison’s process. But his eyes flick pointedly toward the door, and a tiny bud of hope blossoms in me. I just can’t let anyone else catch on. “How will you explain his death?” I ask as Polly nibbles on a bite-size white cake.

“We’ll do what we’ve been doing for centuries,” Gavin says, the awkward quality I found so endearing replaced by cool indifference. “We’ll make it go away.”

Jane takes another sip of wine, nodding along.

At the end of the table, Remington’s fingers crawl across the table toward a slice of cheese, which he takes and examines. My bloom of hope withers, especially as he pushes aside a fork like he’s disgusted by it.

“Oh dear,” Annabelle says, and my heart sinks. We’re out of time.

Remington grabs for a wineglass now, and I don’t even bother telling him to drop it. He can’t get much more poisoned than he already is. But his gaze whips to mine, followed by a barely perceptible glance at the knife in front of him.

The air, taut with fear and nerves, snaps. Before the others can blink, he’s on his feet, knife in hand.

Annabelle reacts the quickest, reaching for a plate. She hurls it across the table, and it whizzes just between Jane and Remington. Blood pumping, I grab my knife and dive off my chair and onto the floor, crawling toward the wall. With his left hand, Remington tosses his wine in Annabelle’s face before smashing the stem against the table. He brandishes his makeshift knife at Jane, who seems to freeze in place, horror creating hollows in her cheeks.

Gavin is already skirting the opposite side of the table, headed for Remington and gripping his own blade.

I back up, holding my knife, watching as Remington tries to pass Polly, who refuses to budge. “I’ll use one of these on you if I have to,” Remington growls, a weapon in each hand.

“Remington!” I shout, getting to my feet. But I have to turn away as Gavin comes up behind me. I scream, swiping at him with my knife. He mimics the move, and I jump back, barely evading his blade against my chest.

Gavin pauses, a look of shock crossing his face at how close he came to slicing me open. His green eyes flash down to the knife and back up again, narrowing as they fix on me.

To our side, there’s a shriek and a clatter. Gavin’s attention diverts, and I slip out into the doorway, watching as Annabelle clambers straight over the table, snarling like a wild animal and heaving herself at Remington. He shifts, and she lands stomach-first on the chair post.

Gavin tears past the doorway to help, and my knuckles dig into the stone archway so tightly they hurt. Polly’s lying on the floor, her glass broken into fragments beside her; I have no idea what state she’s in. Red wine—maybe blood—covers the stone and seeps beneath the table.

Above her, Jane has suddenly come alive. No longer petrified, she grabs a metal fork off the table.

Desperate, I lunge for the water pitcher. It’s heavy in my weakened hands, but I bring it back and swing with all my might. A sickening crack resounds as it hits Gavin’s skull. He stands still for a moment before reaching back to touch his head. As his hand comes away coated in blood, Jane shoves her chair across the floor with a screech, slamming it into Remington’s shins. He cries out and crumples onto the chair. But he recovers, black teeth bared, smacking her in the face with a plate and pushing past a still-dazed Gavin to get to me.

I duck into the corridor, Remington close behind. Annabelle’s shouts still echo through the chamber as we push the door shut. “Get the beam!” Remington calls, throwing all his remaining strength into holding it despite the pounding from the other side. I find it propped against the wall and drag it over. Hefting the splintery beam, I slide it into place.

“Let’s go,” Remington says, grabbing for my hand.

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