Page 77 of Tricky Girls

The trees part to the whisper of cresting waves.

The Charons are out there, waiting and willing.

I stand on the shore and beckon one to me.

Tilda steps up to my side, watching their approach curiously.

I put a hand on her back, encouraging her into it.

She resists, gaze bobbing between me and the boat and the waiting ocean. The pieces come together for her in an instant.

‘Oh, I can’t. I don’t…’

‘Get in the fucking boat, Tilda.’

She groans aloud, but does as I say, stumbling as the boat rocks beneath her.

‘Please don’t kill me,’ she whines. Like this is all a fucking joke. Like I don’t want to do that very thing. ‘Haz and Elly won’t pass the project without me.’

‘Haz and Elly were doing just fine without you.’

I thunk down opposite her, nodding to the Charon.

‘She doesn’t have access,’ they protest, sounding huffy about it too. Fucking weasel.

Suppressing a sigh, I fish for the knife that never leaves my side these days, holding it up to their cloaked neck.

‘She does tonight.’ I smile. ‘Right?’

They blow out an indignant breath but pick up the oars.

The boat shudders; we’re on our way.

Tilda watches me warily, suddenly looking a hundred percent sober.

No worries, where we’re going can sort that out in a jiffy.

I watch her face as we pass beneath the mouth of the cave.

Her gaze is upwards and she doesn’t look happy.

Yeah, she never did like confined spaces. She’s going to like the cavern even less, a place that can flood any second at Poseidon’s will.

I make her go ahead, watching her slip up the stone steps and wait shivering for me on the ledge.

She doesn’t want to be here, that much is clear.

I smile as I tip the Charon but there’s no warmth in it.

I nod her down the tunnel, emerging into the great cavern a few minutes later.

‘So this is it?’ she says, craning her head around. ‘Hazelhurst’s secret society.’

I huff out a breath. ‘It’s just a club.’ And then some.

I don’t bother with drinks, immediately pushing her into the fray and watching people writhe around her, touching her with their sweaty, drug-hazed bodies.

The cages are next.

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