These Deadly Games(51)
Who was I kidding? Of course they were watching.
I tiptoed back into the kitchen and out the back door as fast as I could. The floodlights blazed again as I dashed back to shrubberies at the edge of Akira’s lawn. For a moment, I gripped my knees, catching my breath, then slinked toward the front of the house to get a clear view of the driveway. It was dark. The floodlights above the garage door hadn’t turned on. No car had turned in to the driveway. Akira’s parents weren’t home.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket. A crack splintered from the corner of the tempered glass screen protector from the drop in the garage, slashing through An0nym0us1’s latest message.
Go home.
All the little hairs on my neck stood on end. I was right. The point was never to steal the car. They’d tried to get me to leave with the engine running. They’d tried to get me to murder another one of my friends. Maybe they’d disabled the garage door remote sometime after Akira’s parents left, and that’s why the door never opened. But I’d killed the engine. I’d outsmarted them. Ha!
Wait … I couldn’t act all triumphant. If An0nym0us1 realized Akira was no longer in danger, they might force me to go back inside and finish the job. I had to act terrified.
I had to pretend to realize Akira was in mortal danger. I had to pretend to try to save her.
I fixed my face into what I hoped was a fearful expression and gasped, then spun and sprinted to the back door, trying to keep the camera somewhat steady. The dog in the neighboring yard started yipping again, and as I reached for the doorknob, my phone buzzed.
Go home. NOW.
I raised my phone to eye level, like I was taking a selfie. “I left the engine running,” I whisper-shouted and screwed up my face—from real or fake terror, I didn’t know. “I have to turn it off.”
If you don’t go home RIGHT NOW, your sister dies.
Instinct clashed with dissent. Part of me wanted to bolt. But part of me wanted to test An0nym0us1—to stretch them as taut as possible before they snapped. It reminded me of a recurring nightmare I’d had for years—I’d spot myself in a mirror, and despite knowing there was something evil within, I’d approach it and screw up my face, testing it, watching as the reflection turned monstrous.
“But it’s dangerous,” I whispered. “She could get poisoned.”
Seconds later, a picture appeared—the edge of a knife flush against Caelyn’s cheek. Her hazel eyes were wide with terror, her glasses missing.
GO. NOW.
Terror sliced my insides. Whoever was doing this was pure evil. And by the time Akira awoke in the morning, they’d realize I’d outsmarted them. They’d realize I was a worthy opponent.
Before that happened, I had to find them—to discover who they were and confront them in real life. It was the only way to end this twisted game.
CHAPTER 21
It was 1:30 a.m. by the time I slinked up the hill alongside my house to my bedroom window. I’d snuck out that way so Mom wouldn’t catch me creeping downstairs. I was about to hoist myself up when I heard something shuffle behind me and whipped around, breathing fast. Did something just move in Zoey’s window? She’d kept her shades closed ever since I snuck in, but now there was a narrow gap between her shades and windowsill. I could’ve sworn I saw something brush against it. Had she seen me sneak out earlier? Was she watching me now? Either way, she’d raised the shades for the first time since I’d caught her red-handed.
And now I had an idea for catching An0nym0us1 red-handed, too.
Once I climbed back inside and shut the window, I powered off my phone and tossed it onto my bed. An impulsive move, for sure—An0nym0us1 had warned if I didn’t reply to their messages within a minute, they’d kill Caelyn. But I needed a minute to think. The phone was almost out of battery—I could claim it dropped dead or got damaged when it fell in Akira’s garage.
As I waited for my laptop to boot up, I glimpsed the cosplay dress hanging from my closet door. Zoey had bought an expensive princess warrior dress online for the tourney, and Akira would be wearing an old Halloween costume, but Caelyn had insisted on designing my costume herself. “I know you’re supposed to be a peasant,” she’d said as she handed it to me the other day, flushed with pride, “but I couldn’t help adding a little sparkle.” She’d pointed out the beads embroidered in crisscross patterns along the brown bodice’s edges next to the tie strings, which hugged an off-white chemise over a dark burgundy gathered skirt. “These are crystal beads.” I’d been so impressed by her handiwork, my mouth dropped open in awe. Now, tears sprang to my eyes, and I grasped the lightning bolt charm hanging from my neck. She’d made us matching ones because she knew shock staffs were my personal brand in MortalDusk.
I had to get her back. I had to figure out who the hell was doing this to us.
My only real clue so far was Lance Burdly. Had An0nym0us1 plucked the name out of thin air? Or did it mean something?
I clutched my forehead, still feeling the aftereffects of my panic attack. My skull pounded so hard I thought it might crack to match the broken rest of me. I was tired, so damn tired. But I had to stay awake. I pulled up Google and was about to type when I yanked my fingers from the keyboard like it was a scalding stovetop. If An0nym0us1 had hacked my phone, had they hacked my laptop, too? My eyes flicked to the webcam dot above the monitor.