Page 37 of Dig Your Grave

My throat tightened.Great.

I forced myself to focus.The table had a series of rotating wooden disks carved with letters and symbols.It reminded me of an ancient code wheel.Next to it lay a slip of parchment:

“He who knows me best unlocks the door.He who shares my secret is worthy of the Skulls.”

My heart sank.This might be some twisted measure of intimacy.

Anubis grimaced.“They want us to reveal personal secrets, like a riddle about each other?Or something from our pasts?”

I remembered the Skulls’ rumored tactic, forcing confessions or private knowledge as proof of loyalty.This puzzle might align with that.

The chest on the table was locked, but the lock had a numeric dial.Maybe the code was related to something about me or Anubis.

We began fumbling with the wooden disks, searching for a pattern.The swirling in my head grew stronger, the wine’s effect intensifying.My fingers trembled.

Anubis inhaled sharply.“Look here,” he said, pointing to the top row of symbols: a stylized dog shape, a snake, a heart, and a star.“This might relate to Egyptian mythology.”

He was named Anubis, after all.But would that help us?

My vision blurred slightly, but I forced myself to keep going.The next row of symbols included a quill and an eye.Quill—writing?Eye—witness?

“He who knows me best unlocks the door.”

“I think the puzzle expects us to combine something personal with these symbols,” he said hoarsely.“Like it’s referencing my name, or your name, or something.Maybe your mother’s name?Or your hometown?”

His mention of my mother jolted me.Ambrosia Whipple.That was personal.But the puzzle likely wanted something from both of us.

With shaky hands, I aligned the first row to readDOG (Anubis)and the second row to read something about me.I tried the symbol for a star, thinking about my name,Suede, which ironically didn’t have an obvious symbol.So I switched to a symbol that resembled farmland or a small house, referencing Crestwood, my hometown.

Nothing clicked.The chest remained locked.

The swirling in my brain thickened, my knees wobbling.“We’re missing something,” I muttered.

Anubis gently steadied me.“It’s alright.Think about the real reason they picked us.They want something raw.A confession or a vow.”

I remembered Toccara’s file.Potential vulnerabilities.The Skulls thrived on secrets.Maybe they wanted me to own my darkest memory.

I shuddered.My darkest memory was the time I was nearly assaulted by hooded men in an alley as a teen, though the biggest confusion was how that memory was entwined with a strange surge of survival and shame.That event had overshadowed my life.And Anubis knew it all.He confessed to being forced to do that to me.But how did it connect here?

“Suede?”Anubis said, voice tense.

My gaze darted around until I spotted a faint inscription on the chest itself:

“Strip away the lies, bare your darkest truth.”

I closed my eyes.“They want a secret,” I choked out.“A personal secret that binds me to you.”

Anubis’ hand tightened on my arm.“Tell me what to do,” he said, voice rough.“You don’t have to bare anything you’re not ready to share.”

But we had no choice if we wanted out.The watchers outside might be listening, waiting for confessions.

My heart pounded.I never told anyone the full story of that alley, how I’d frozen, how I survived, how it shaped me.The nightmares of black robes, the sense of guilt…

The watchers wanted to hear my confession.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.The wine had me dangerously close to tears.But for once, I wanted to tell the truth.

With trembling breath, I spoke so softly I barely recognized my voice.I told him about that night in the alley, leaving out the worst details of fear, but enough to convey the trauma.I spoke of the cold ground, the hush of footsteps, the masks, the taste of copper in my mouth.

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