Code(74)

Ben snorted. “I meant about The Game.”

“What do you think, Tor?” Shelton was methodically wiping his glasses. “Lately it seems like everything we try blows up in our faces.”

“We’ve reached a dead end.” Admitting failure burned, but facts were facts. “We can’t trace the snare gun without access to LIRI’s security files, and we can’t ID the Gamemaster’s victim without a new picture. And since the body just vanished, we can’t even report a crime.”

“So our hunt for the Gamemaster is over?” Hi asked.

It’ll never be over. Not for me. I know Aunt Tempe wouldn’t quit.

“Temporarily,” I said. “Right now, we have to focus on winning The Game. We have to nail down the final location, and stop whatever horror this psychopath has planned.”

“Two days.” Hi was staring out the window. “That’s not much time.”

No. It’s not.





CHAPTER 39





The next day, Bolton’s halls buzzed with talk of Hurricane Katelyn.

“The projections have all jogged to the northeast.” Hi was reading weather.com on his iPhone. “Winds are down to Cat Three, with possible landfalls now including most of North Carolina.”

“So long as it’s North Cack.” Shelton shut his locker. “Don’t forget where we live, bro. A good storm surge could put Morris Island completely underwater.”

“The good news is—” Hi placed a faux-comforting hand on my shoulder, “—the hurricane won’t strike until the weekend, at the earliest. The deb ball is safe.”

“Wonderful.” I rolled my eyes. “I’d hate to have my execution stayed.”

I was twirling my combination lock when Ben appeared.

“Anything new?” He stepped close to avoid being overheard. “About The Game, I mean. The deadline’s tomorrow night.”

“The castle connection is all I’ve got,” I said. “But it feels right. It can’t be coincidence that zero hour falls at the exact time of the ball.”

“Why not?” Shelton argued. “If we’ve just randomly fallen into some wackjob’s trap, the timing might have nothing to do with our social calendar.”

“Even if we weren’t targeted originally,” I countered, “the Gamemaster certainly knows about us now. The photos, remember? It’s not a stretch to think he learned our schedules.”

“The very first cache sent us to Pinckney,” Hi pointed out. “So the Gamemaster picked that destination before we started playing. That means one of three things.” He raised a finger for each possibility. “We were selected from the beginning. The bomb location changed to The Citadel after he started following us. Or Tory’s castle theory simply doesn’t fly.”

I paused to assess Hi’s reasoning. “Or the debutante ball was always the final objective, and our attendance is a fluke.”

“So now coincidence is back in play?” Ben derided. “Make up your mind.”

Ben’s jaw was tense. It seemed like the pressure was getting to him.

He wasn’t the only one. Every minute that slipped by amped my anxiety level. What if we weren’t up to the Gamemaster’s challenge? If we failed, it could cost the lives of people walking this very hallway. The stakes were staggering.

Shelton spoke softly. “There’s nothing solid pointing to The Citadel.”

He was right. But every fiber of my being was screaming that my hunch was correct. Which meant, logically, that we were chosen to play The Game.

The notion filled me with dread.

“Let’s talk at lunch.” I started down the hall. “We’ll figure it out, once and for all.”

The morning came and went. Most Bolton students were attending the ball in some capacity, and gossip was everywhere. I overheard dozens of whispered conversations about escort selections and rumored dress prices. When lunch finally arrived, I headed outside to meet the other Virals.

As if to deny the possibility of an onrushing tempest, the weather was a crisp, cloudless sixty-five. I circled to the rear of the grounds, expecting the area near the pond to be empty.

I was wrong.

Madison and Chance were seated on a bench with their backs to the building. She was speaking animatedly, hands fluttering to emphasize her points. Chance contributed the occasional nod.

I would’ve given my life savings to eavesdrop.

Then do it. You know you can.

My pulse quickened. Should I? A quick three-sixty confirmed that no one else was close by. What’s the point of superpowers if you never use them?

I slipped behind a tree.

SNAP.

The flare came easily, boosting my senses into hyperspace.

A thousand scents flooded my nostrils. Sticky, pitchy pine. Algae-coated pond water. A slight hint of peanut butter. My eyes tracked fruit flies swarming in the branches overhead, dancing among bright arrows of sunlight. I tasted a tang on the breeze, loamy dust mixed with sweet hydrangea. Felt the wind caress individual hairs on my arms.

Most importantly, I heard two voices arguing quietly.

Peering around the tree, I studied my quarry. Madison’s shoulders were tense and her back was rigid. A ring-decked hand kept worrying her hair.