Page 197 of Let the Game Begin
My flight was only twenty-four hours away, but so many things had happened that I still could have changed my mind. Could I really just walk away and leave Neil alone to fight both himself and some psychopath bent on revenge?
Sighing, I made my way to the library. I immediately spotted Logan sitting in one of the sleek armchairs. Neil arrived shortly after me in a pair of sweatpants that perfectly highlighted the powerful shape of his muscular body. I tried not to look at him too much. He didn’t deserve any more of my attention.
“Good morning,” Logan said, turning his hazel eyes on me. I greeted him with a faint smile and sat down in the chair next to him, hoping to avoid Neil’s stare. It seemed that I could feel his honey-colored eyes on me, but that could simply have been my brain playing tricks on me, trying to convince me he cared even a little about me.
He’d been with another woman last night, after kissing me, after sharing something unique with me on the chaise by the pool, and I could not conceive of forgiving that kind of slight. Luke had been right: people like them didn’t change.
“So…” Logan looked from me to his brother, who stood at a distance from us, leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded. Rays from the sun filtered through the large window, lighting him up and making him look like a fallen angel. I tried not to let myself be distracted and focused on Logan as he went through all the clues Player 2511 had sent.
“To recap: we’ve received four packages. The first had the dead crow and suggested revenge. The second was the angel of the music box, which was connected with the story about the little girl and the theme of punishment. The third package was different, containing photos of each of us with ‘who will be first?’ written on the back as well as the acrostic with my name.” He looked at his broken leg and sighed. “Now we need to figure out this latest note as well,” he said, speaking more vigorously and trying to chase the negative thoughts from our minds. It was important that we remained focused and clearheaded and didn’t allow ourselves to be overcome with emotion.
“What do you suggest we do?” Neil moved away from the window, eating up the space with his firm, masculine strides. I didn’t want to, but damn it, I had to give in to temptation and look at him, and I regretted it immediately.
“We need to look for anything that could be related to a white horse,” Logan said, calling my attention back to him and what he was saying. “We should find plenty of research material here. Anything might be useful to us.” He pointed at some books stacked on the coffee table in front of him and reached out to grab one.
I started researching as well, and as soon as I opened my book, I sneezed at all the dust. Then, as if my eyes were magnetized and had been drawn elsewhere, I looked up and met Neil’s golden gaze.
Why was he staring at me like that?
Still, every time, his gaze had the power to commingle our souls. It went beyond words, pulling me into his madness. It took all the courage I had to finally break eye contact with him and go back to looking at the open pages.
“Find anything yet?” Logan asked, and just when I thought my answer would have to be no, I spotted something that could be interesting.
“There is something in here, but I don’t think I’m on the right track,” I said, looking doubtful.
“Come on, read it,” Neil said, speaking directly to me for the first time since the previous night. I cleared my throat and dipped my chin to read the page.
“The white horse is symbolic of beauty and purity. Over the centuries, its meaning has broadened and it is often considered a divine animal withthe power to free itself from the earthly, material world…” I looked up at the both of them; they’d been watching me the whole time with serious looks on their faces.
I might have found it funny, if we weren’t in such an insane situation.
“I don’t think that’s what he’s trying to tell us.” Logan shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s keep looking. But, Selene…” He caught my eye and gave me a smile. “Great job, sis.” Then he winked at me before going back to his research, abandoning the book he’d been using and dedicating himself to the next one.
His willpower and determination were admirable. He was working so hard for Neil, to help him and support him as he fought a battle of wits against a worthy opponent, a true strategist.
It was incredible how, though none of us knew who Player 2511 was, we each felt his presence like some hard-to-exorcise demon.
“Um…I think I found something interesting,” Logan said, his eyes locked on an illustration in his book.
“What?” asked Neil, tossing his book onto the wooden table and taking a seat on the arm of Logan’s chair. He stretched his arm across the backrest and peered down at his brother, involuntarily adopting the stance of a curious kid.
“Look at this.” Logan pointed to the page he had been so fixated upon so, of course, I had to get closer to them until my legs brushed against Neil’s knee. I jumped at even that minimal contact, while he remained impassive, staring at an image that was included in the book.
“It’s an illustration by Gustave Doré. Listen…” Logan pointed at the caption underneath the picture and we waited in silence for him to continue. “Gustave Doré’s work, entitledDeath on a Pale Horse,is a depiction of the personification of death: a skeleton brandishing a scythe, often pictured in a black robe or cloak with a hood.” He looked up, first at Neil and then at me and swallowed audibly.
“Fuck, this is it. Keep reading,” Neil urged him and Logan continued.
“The personification of death is tasked with accompanying souls from the land of the living, symbolized by the white horse, to the land of the dead as represented by the skeleton. It is a juxtaposition of life and death when wediscuss the passage of the soul from one world into the next,” he concluded in a chilly tone as a meditative silence fell all around us.
“So this letter means—” I murmured in a tiny voice.
“Death,” Neil finished for me, jumping up from Logan’s armrest.
“Player already tried to kill me once. Maybe he’s telling us that he’s going to try again?” Logan asked, worrying his lip anxiously.
“Don’t forget about the numbers; we still need to figure those out,” I added, pulling their attention back to the note, which held an even more complex puzzle to solve.
“You’re right; we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Logan gestured to a notebook and pen on the desk, encouraging him to start making notes on possible connections between the words and the numbers. Neil followed his brother’s suggestion and leaned against the edge of the desk, trying to make some sense of the note.
