Code(80)

My breath caught.

My heart almost stopped.

Above the ballroom’s main entrance was a simple decoration formed of white and yellow streamers. The silk swatches were twisted and tied to form a yard-square tableau hanging high up over the end of the catwalk. I’d never have noticed it without turning around.

A sunburst.

The one embroidered on the cloth wrapping the Saint Benedict statue.

The one chiseled onto the Mepkin Abbey crypt.

“Paging Miss Brennan.” Chance waved a hand before my eyes. “You okay?”

No.

“Yes. I’m just . . . surprised I’ll be first.”

“I’m sure you’ll dazzle. Until then.” Chance strolled off after Madison, leaving me alone.

I stared at the sunburst.

The Gamemaster’s symbol. Here. On this night. At this time.

No way it was coincidence.

My heart hammered so loudly I feared others might hear it.

We were in the right place.

Which meant everyone present was in terrible danger.

I raced to find the Virals. We had to move fast. A deadly clock was ticking.

At zero, we all die.





CHAPTER 42





Outside the would-be castle, the air was still.

Thick. Tepid. As if the night held its breath. A full moon rode high in the sky, illuminating the lawn and sending shadows across the stately old campus.

Faint sounds floated from within the stone hall, worrying crows roosting in a nearby oak. Music. Laughter. Clinking dishes.

The door swept open. Closed with a thump.

A hooded figure emerged, body cloaked by a long brown robe.

The figure paused. Drank deeply of the evening breeze.

The board was set.

Each piece was present.

Everything was unfolding according to plan.

The Game was nearing its climax. Would the players pass?

A rueful grin twisted the moonlit face. No.

Pale hands emerged from the coarse brown sleeves, rubbed together in anticipation. The figure spun in childish delight.

The crows flapped and hopped in agitation.

An eerie, high-pitched giggle leaked from beneath the dark hood. Warbling and off-key, it keened on for long moments before mercifully fading to silence.

The crows took wing and scattered into the night.

The twirling abruptly stopped. The figure bowed as if in prayer, or deep in thought. Seconds ticked by.

The hood slowly nodded. Once. Twice. Then the figure hurried down to street level two steps at a time. Rotating a three-sixty, it wagged a finger at the lively hall.

“Time’s almost up!”

The figure hurried around the building, melted into the gloom, and was gone.





CHAPTER 43





I needed the Virals alone. ASAP.

But Jason was lounging at our table, shoveling hors d’oeuvres like a starving man.

With no time to plan, and slightly freaked, I kept it simple.

“Can you give us a sec, Jase?” My smile felt more like a grimace. “I need a quick Morris Island moment.”

“Okay. Sure.” Jason gave me an odd look, but didn’t press. “There are some folks I should say hi to anyway. I’ll swing back in a few.”

“Thanks so much.” As soon as Jason was out of earshot, I hissed, “The bomb is definitely here!”

“Seriously?” Hi’s knuckles whitened on his cane. “How can you be sure?”

I pointed to the sunburst above the entrance.

“Oh.” Shelton went rigid. “Damn.”

“It’s identical,” Hi said miserably.

Ben shook his head slowly. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it. The bomb is somewhere in this building.”

“How do we find it?” Shelton was nervously scanning the room. “We don’t have a clue to follow, or even a guess!”

I snapped my fingers at Hi. “Notes.”

He pulled the rumpled pages from his jacket pocket. “We keep beating these to death, but never get anywhere.”

We huddled close while Hi read my list aloud. Places we’d been. Facts we’d learned. Hurdles we’d cleared.

The Gamemaster’s final message claimed the answers were there, somewhere in that tangle of information.

But, as before, nothing added up.

“New plan.” Ben removed and draped his jacket over a chair. “We search the building, top to bottom. Everyone takes an area.”

“Yes. Good!” Doing anything was an improvement over nothing.

I was about to say more when Kit and Whitney joined us.

“Tory, darling,” Whitney cooed, “you must come and meet the ladies from the Women’s Committee. Your father has already charmed them.”

Kit blushed. “Doubtful. My reputation usually results in disappointment. I’m hardly the Indiana Jones people envision.”

“Pssh.” Whitney flapped a hand. “Modest.”

“I’d like to meet them, Whitney,” I began, “but the boys and I were just—”

“These women pulled strings for you, Tory.” Whitney’s tone became a little less honeyed. “We need to express our gratitude.”

I was about to refuse—what could possibly matter less—when Hi jumped in. “You go ahead, Tory. We can inspect the buffet tables alone.” Then he whispered under his breath. “We got this. Go. Sneak away when you can.”