Chaos Choreography (InCryptid, #5)(38)

“Hello?”

“Where did you find those bodies?”

“Hi, Dad.” Just hearing his voice was enough to relax me. He would know what to do next. He always did. “In the basement of the theater. Those are the two contestants who got eliminated tonight.”

“You need to get out of there.”

He always knew what to do, and I always refused to do it. “Why?”

“Because those runes are intended to summon a snake god, and if the snake cultists are carving them into dead people, I’d rather they not decide to carve them into you.”

I leaned back until my shoulders rested against the arm of the couch. “See, and that’s why I can’t leave. I don’t think we can convince Adrian to shut down the show—officially, the bodies haven’t been found yet. Maybe when they are, he’ll decide this is too dangerous, but I think he’s just going to turn it into a bid for better ratings. Dancing for our fallen comrades and all that. Right now, I’m the only one here who could potentially make things better.”

“I don’t like the thought of you out there without backup. Your mother and I—”

“Are so not coming out here,” I interrupted. “You have work to do, and there’s nowhere for you to crash. Besides, I have backup. Dominic is here. The local cryptids include a chupacabra, an Ukupani, and a whole Nest of dragons that really wants to stay on my good side. I’ll be fine.”

“That isn’t enough,” he said. “These runes aren’t amateur work, like the ones you found in the sewer. Someone has been working for a long time to bring their god to this plane of existence.”

“Do you even know which god?” Pax stuck his head out of the kitchen, mouth bloody and eyes wide. I covered the receiver with one hand and mouthed “snake god” exaggeratedly at him. He looked blank, shrugged, and withdrew back into the kitchen. I uncovered the receiver. “Because there are a lot of snake gods out there. Maybe they’re summoning Uncle Naga, and we can have a fun chat about how dance proves that bipeds have too much nervous energy. Again.”

(Uncle Naga was a very nice, well, naga from a parallel dimension. His real name was unpronounceable by humans. He’d originally been summoned by a snake cult to eat my grandmother when she was a kid. Being a respectable professor of extra-dimensional studies who didn’t believe in eating people he could have conversations with, he’d declined and has been a friend of the family ever since. And this is why we don’t invite strangers over for Thanksgiving.)

“Naga cannot be summoned using these runes,” said Dad. “Honestly, I’m not sure what can be summoned using these runes, only that I’d rather you not meet it face-to-face, and especially not without backup.”

“Already told you, I have backup,” I said. “I just need you to find out whatever you can about these runes, and pass it along, so my backup and I have a better chance of staying alive.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said. “The two people who were eliminated tonight, they weren’t the first, were they?”

“See, you say that, but I know you’ve been watching the show,” I said. “I know because your mice have been sending Facebook messages to my mice. They really like the caps lock key. Someone should teach them about proper email etiquette.”

“Thanks for volunteering,” he said, before he sobered and asked, “The other people who have been eliminated . . . are they all right? Has anyone talked to them?”

I didn’t drop the phone. I may as well have. My mouth going slack, I stared off into the distance, considering the terrible implications of his words. Because we hadn’t heard from them, had we? Danny—he’d been eliminated in week three. He was a ballroom boy. We should have swarmed him with hugs, covered him with kisses, and sent him infinite supportive messages on social media. That was part of how this worked. You made a fuss over the outgoing contestants to remind America that you were still there, still alive and kicking. And we hadn’t done it.

Why not? Where the hell were they?

“Verity? Are you still there?” Dad’s voice turned sharp. “If you’re in distress, breathe in sharply twice. We’ll find a way to get help to you.”

“I’m fine, Daddy,” I said. The last thing I wanted was for my father to start mobilizing the troops. He’d start with Dominic—that was fine—but there was no telling where he would go from there. “I was just thinking about what you said. I wasn’t close to any of the people who’ve been eliminated. My season is intact. But it’s still weird that I haven’t spoken to any of them. I’ll look into it.”

“See to it that you do,” said Dad, and sighed. “You know, Verity, when you told us that ballroom dance was your life’s true passion, I thought it meant you would be safer than your brother. Basements full of bodies sort of go against that.”

“I am safer than my brother,” I protested. “I haven’t been bitten by a werewolf or turned to stone. Compared to Alex, I’m little Susie Safety.”

He chuckled ruefully. “I wish that weren’t reassuring. All right: your mother and I will stay here. But I’m sending backup, and you’re going to accept it, or I’m coming down there and carrying you home.”

“What kind of back—” I began.