Page 24 of Wicked Games

“Good evening, Miss Saracen.”

I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of the voice behind me. It wasn’t human—it was one of those robotic modulated voices that could only be achieved with the aid of a device.

Heart racing, I whirled around to face the person. I had no idea where they’d appeared from, and their appearance was even more confounding. They were dressed in a black hooded robe that hid any physical features that could determine their sex, and a black mask with magenta neon lights covered their face. The lights formed crosses over the eyes and a pattern over the mouth which gave it the appearance of lips that had been stitched shut.

“My apologies for startling you, Miss Saracen,” the person said. The robotic voice was devoid of emotion. “You’re right on time. May I have your phone, please?”

I handed over my cell, and they dipped their head in a polite nod. “Thank you. Please follow me.”

I swallowed hard as I trailed behind them, heading through a narrow passage that ran beyond the stairway. I hadn’t noticed it when I looked around earlier because it was so dim in this place.

We arrived in a lounge with a bar on the left side. The space was lit by a roaring fire in a hearth on the other side. In the center lay a low coffee table surrounded by two ornate chaise sofas with deep purple velvet covers and golden accents.

The creepy masked guy—I’d decided the person was probably male based on their towering height—beckoned me toward the bar area. I followed him, and he stooped behind it to pick up a silver tray. Two cocktail glasses sat on it. They were filled with dark purple liquid and decorated with gold flecks and maraschino cherries.

“My employers are still conducting their interview with the previous candidate, and they send their sincere apologies for their tardiness,” he said. “Please accept one of the society’s traditional welcome libations to enjoy while you wait. It’s a cherry-liqueur-based cocktail. The left one is a non-alcoholic version, if you prefer that.”

“Um…” I bit my lip. “I’d like to try the non-alcoholic drink, but would it be okay if I got a fresh one? Sorry to be a pain. I just don’t like accepting drinks when I—”

The masked man lifted a hand to cut me off. “Of course. I understand completely,” he said. “You feel more comfortable seeing the drink made in front of you.”

“Yes. I, uhh… I’ve had bad experiences in the past.”

“No need to explain.” He turned to a minifridge behind him and pulled out three bottles. Lemonade, cherry liqueur, and cherry juice. Then he grabbed a bottle of flavored sugar syrup from a high shelf above him. “All new bottles,” he went on, breaking the seal on each one to show me they were indeed unopened before now. “Your drink will be ready in no time.”

“Thanks.”

After a moment of stirring and shaking, the neon-masked man placed a brand-new cocktail in front of me. “One virgin drink for you, Miss Saracen, courtesy of the Galileo Society.”

“Thank you.” I lifted the glass to take a sip of the sweet concoction. “Mmm. Very nice.”

The masked man motioned toward the lounge chairs. “Please have a seat. I’ll check with my employers to see how much longer you’ll need to wait.”

With that, he stepped out from behind the bar and disappeared into the darkness of the hall, thick robes loudly swishing around him.

I headed over to one of the chairs and sat down, drink in hand. As I took another sip, a wave of tiredness washed over me. Today had been a very long day. Hopefully I could still pull off the interview followed by a successful initiation.

God, what on Earth was even going to happen during this initiation? All week, movie-style images of flaming torches, stone altars, and sacrificial daggers had played nonstop in my head, but at the end of the day, I still had no idea what to expect.

First things first,I reminded myself. I wouldn’t have to worry about the initiation ceremony if I failed the interview segment. I needed to stay calm and collected. Give all the right answers. Prove I was a good candidate for membership.

Sipping at my drink, I mulled over potential questions, but I struggled to focus, overwhelmed with nerves. I sat up straight and took a deep breath, telling myself to get my shit together. I couldn’t let anxiety get to me now. Not when I’d already made it so far.

Despite my best efforts to center myself, the nerves intensified, twisting my stomach into knots. Each breath felt shallower, each heartbeat louder, like a drumbeat of impending danger. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and panic surged, a cold knot tightening in my chest.

“Oh, no,” I gasped, the realization hitting me like a sledgehammer. This wasn’t regular nerves. I recognized this feeling, a sinister echo from a past encounter.

The drink… it was spiked.

Fear gripped me as the pieces fell into place with chilling clarity. My initial suspicion about the invitation was correct after all. There was no secret society. This was a trap. A carefully orchestrated scheme to ensnare me in a web of danger. My friends, too.

The implication sent shivers down my spine. The effort it had taken someone to lure us here tonight, one by one, marked the extent of the trouble we were in. Clearly, whatever awaited us in this dark mansion was far more sinister than I could ever imagine. Why else would they go to so much trouble?

I set the cocktail glass down on the table with a clatter, mind racing. April’s interview time was 7:30, meaning she’d probably already fallen prey to the same trick as me. But I could still warn Brooke and Zach.Don’t come here.

I reached into my pocket for my phone, only to recall with a sinking feeling that I’d handed it over upon my arrival as per the masked man’s request.

“Shit!”

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