Wicked Games

by Wood, Vivian

  “The killer?”

  I shake my head. “Asher. He was—” My throat tightens, choking off the words, and my eyes burn. “He was already dead, with these marks on his face that were—they were these symbols. Nothing like we’d ever used. I didn’t know what I was seeing. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’ve always needed to protect Rose House, and I bent down and I wiped them off. I know it was...” I grit my teeth. Just get to the end of the fucking story. “I walked away. I went in a circle around campus. In shock, probably, because it felt numb. I should have called the police right then, but I didn’t. When I got back they were moving him.”

  “Who?”

  “Carter and Ellis.”

  Understanding dawns in Emily’s eyes. “He was pissed at me not long ago. I saw him kissing Dr. Napier, but his reaction...” She brushes her hands over the front of her sweater. “It was intense.”

  I look her straight in the eye. “I did not kill Asher.”

  She breathes in deep and lets it out again. “I believe you.”

  “I didn’t kill him. He was—he had his moments. But I would never, Emily, and if you think I’m trying to buy my way out of something—”

  “No. No, of course not. No.” Her eyes linger on mine. “It doesn’t feel over. The car that tried to hit me. The electric plate at the library. It’s personal now. I thought I’d report on it as a campus event for the scholarship. Write an essay that proved I was worth being here.” Another tear slips over her cheek. “If it wasn’t you, could it have been...”

  “It’s been eating me alive all year.” Emily closes the distance between us and presses herself into my arms. “If it’s Carter or Ellis, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you come so close.”

  “How could you protect me if I was far away?” she mumbles into my shirt.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s coming again, isn’t it?”

  “Isn’t what?”

  “Lemuria.”

  “Yes. The tail-end of winter.”

  “It doesn’t feel like the end of winter.” Emily shivers. “And it feels like...it feels like whoever did this is lying in wait. For another Lemuria. And we’re standing right in the way.”

  “We could get out of here. You know that, right? We can be on a private plane in ninety minutes. I’d take you wherever you wanted to go.”

  Emily huffs a laugh. “There are lots of places I’d like to see, but...I started this. And I’d like to see it through.”

  “I should have known you were going to say that.”

  Emily slips her hand into mine. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a bell tolls—an alarm. She’s right. Time is almost up. There’s going to be a reckoning. I can feel it.

  It’s only a matter of finding out who’s behind it.

  48

  Emily

  “Tonight is Lemuria,” Wolf murmurs into my hair. We are laying in his bed, partially undressed. I’ve never felt closer to him until now. “The most holy day of the year for the Skulls. We’ll have to go to the ceremony or face the consequences.”

  My chest tightens. I look up at Wolf, more than a little afraid for him. Afraid for both of us, truth be told.

  “What about Asher’s killer? Won’t he be there?” I ask.

  Wolf’s expression turns to steel. “I imagine so.”

  I shiver. “And you don't know who it is?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I just saw Carter, Ellis, and Max as they were moving the body. It could easily have been any of them.”

  My mouth pulls down sourly. “I’m sorry.” It’s all I know to say in this situation.

  Hugging him, I sigh. “You don't have to go to Le-whatever, though. The Skulls don't own you.”

  A corner of his mouth tugs upward. “It’s Lemuria. And the Skulls don't own me, but… let’s just say that going to the ceremony will be expected.” Then he frowns again, concern in his eyes. “I don't think that you should go, though.”

  “No way. I’m not leaving you to the wolves. Plus, if the electrocution thing wasn’t an accident…” I shudder. “It’s better to stay with a group of people than to risk being alone.”

  Wolf draws his arms around me, shaking his head. “I wish I could protect you from all of this.”

  “But this is the gist of your whole entire world,” I say. “This whole secret society… if I had to guess, I would say that these are the kind of secrets that it was intended to hide.”

  He glances away, his expression set. I know that there is no talking Wolf out of going tonight. I just wish he would realize that I’m determined to go too.

  Turning his head back to me with a finger, I kiss him gently. “It’s going to be okay. We’re both going tonight. We’ll be each other’s backup.”

  I bite my lip. I should tell Wolf about the key now. It’s time.

  Reaching for my purse, I grab the skeleton key, pulling its long necklace along with it. I pile the key and necklace of the bed in between us, chewing on my lower lip and looking up at him.

  Wolf looks at me with some astonishment, picking up the key. “Where did you get this?”

  “On the first day I was here, I dropped something in the bushes of the front yard,” I say, nodding toward where I mean. “I reached under it and grabbed this key.” I hesitate. “It had something dirty and sticky on it. Something that could have been blood.”

  His eyes widen and he drops the key like it has suddenly grown white hot. “You’re saying… you think it was Asher’s key?”

  I nod. “I think so, yes.”

  He looks at the key like it is some venomous snake, coiled and ready to strike. “Fuck. I never thought to look for it, but… it could’ve been. After all, the Skulls are required to wear their keys on their person for Lemuria.”

  That piece of information seems right, given the evidence. I nod again.

  “I think I should wear his key tonight.”

  Wolf looks me dead in the eyes. His dark blue eyes search mine intently. “Are you sure? You don't need to do anything that will attract more attention to you than there already is…”

  I reach up and kiss him softly. “I’m sure. He should be there tonight. Let it all come out, or be buried forever.”

  Shifting his position a little, he kisses me with a needy groan. He breaks off and moves his mouth to the column of my throat, his kisses becoming urgent. And I’m right there with him, needing him, needing his touch.

  It’s hours later when we come up for air, Wolf dressing quickly in dark jeans and a dark tee shirt. He pulls a black cloak from his closet.

  No, not a cloak. When he’s putting on his shoes, I examine the silky material a little more closely. It becomes evident enough to me.

  It’s a shroud.

  Wolf doesn’t mention it at all. He rushes me through getting ready at Thistle House, posting himself at my door and looking grim. I dress the same as him, dark jeans and a dark top. He doesn’t seem to notice or care what I’m wearing though. He’s too distracted. He disappears for a second, and when he comes back, he’s carrying a silky, dark red shroud.

  “Is that one for me?” I ask.

  “Yes. We won’t need them for a while, though.”

  I slip the skeleton key around my neck. He ushers me out into the darkening May night. It is very warm outside as Wolf guides me toward campus. The very last light in the sky is just now bleeding away, vanished completely be the time that we make it to the quad.

  In the middle of the campus, farmilar faces gather. Everyone passes a stony-faced man holding a box of candles, grabbing one as they file into formation, the lines a dozen wide and the ranks swelling. There are easily a hundred people when Wolf and I get into line, and more behind us.

  The faces I know are mixed in with new ones too, aged and weathered. They are the faces of some of the Skulls and Thorns alumnus, if I had to guess. I look around for my friends but I can only make o
ut Alice, standing with her parents.

  I see someone turn around and wave to Wolf. His mother. I pale as he gives her a little half-wave. Just thinking about meeting her again makes my mouth twist.

  Of course Wolf’s family would be here. He is, after all, one of the legacy members. All that wealth and power, distilled down into Wolf. For a minute, I forgot just who I was and where I came from.

  But now I remember. It’s like a dagger of ice being stabbed into heart.

  God, what if I have to meet his parents again?

  My chest tightens. I’m having a little trouble breathing. Wolf doesn’t seem to notice, but he does move a little closer, offering me his big, warm hand to hold. I take it gratefully.

  I will always take what Wolf offers me, even though I don't know what I did to deceiver any of it.

  Wolf stiffens a little. I glance over to see what he sees and find him looking at Max and Ellis. They are looking back at Wolf, their expressions unkind to say the least. I feel Wolf bristle and I squeeze his hand.

  The gesture does seem to calm him a bit.

  An older man parts from the assembled crowd and turns to face us all. He already wears the midnight black shroud. In the murky moonlight, his face looks like a skeleton’s. Is that just from age or is he wearing makeup?

  I can’t tell.

  “Et Charonis Unum!” “Et Charonis Unum,” is the rumbles response.

  “Oh great Mania,” the man says, raising his hands in the air and turning away from us. He seems to direct his words to the moon. “Mother of ghosts, the undead, and other spirits of the night. We come before you tonight to offer our sacrifice…”

  He lowers one hand, gesturing to a group of shrouded figures in the trees. They step closer, each leading one or two innocent-looking goats. Swallowing nervously, I shift my weight from one foot to another.

  The men in shrouds stop about ten yards away from where we stand, tying the goats to some invisible place on the ground. Then they back away.

  Licking my lips, I glance at Wolf. He makes a gesture to me that says, wait and see.

  The old man raises his hands again. “Beloved Mania, these goats are yours to do with as you wish. They will remain here, tethered and awaiting you, until the sun rises on them once more. We shall drink and we shall await you in your holy shrine, the labyrinth.”

  As one, the formation starts to move forward. Some people are already putting on their shrouds, both dark red and black. I look up to Wolf, who hands me my red shroud. I put it on, not certain what is going on.

  Not a word is said as the whole group walks to the library. Pulling the blood-colored hood down over my face, I take a deep breath.

  This is about to get real.

  49

  Emily

  I shiver as the whole group walks around to an ill-used side entrance of the library. We line up somberly, going in one at a time. I feel around for Wolf’s hand and clasp it tightly.

  The weight of Asher’s skeleton key hangs heavy around my neck. I can’t see my way because the folds of the shroud are so voluminous, but I do notice something on the building right before we enter. We start to go down a set of steps, making me wonder.

  What is possibly downstairs from my beloved library?

  To the right of the doorway is an emblem that I’ve never noticed before. A cloaked skeleton, grinning and holding a scythe, all done in black and gold. For some reason when we are walking under it, it makes me shiver and move closer to Wolf.

  Inside, I see that another black-shrouded person holds a tray of flasks. One by one, the men and women before me are stepping up, slugging back what is in the flask, and then disappearing into the shadows just beyond.

  What is in those flasks?

  Why are we all being so quiet?

  Before I know it, it’s my turn to take a flask and pound the contents. It tastes both herbal terrible, like the bitter dregs of tea gone sour or something. I wipe at my lips just as I start to notice a tingling everywhere the potion touched.

  Wolf’s strong hands band onto my arms, moving me forward. It’s pitch black, but Wolf seems to know where he’s going. I move behind him, gripping his shroud and following him footstep for footstep.

  My eyes adjust somewhat and I can make out that we are in a maze. Somehow the Skulls have turned the library’s basement into an actual labyrinth. Wolf takes a sharp right and then a quick left, leaving everyone who was standing after us in line behind.

  Then he grabs my hand, whispering in my ear. “Did you take the draught back there?”

  My mouth still tingles. I swallow and nod. “Yes.”

  He keeps walking, making right and left turns where he can. The hallways grow more and more narrow as we go on, to the point that we can’t fit walking abreast. I follow him closely.

  “Shit. I was hoping you hadn’t.”

  My eyebrows lift, though he can’t see them. “Why?”

  He stops, bringing his face close to mine. “Because it’s a hallucinogen. We are going to start seeing stuff pretty soon.”

  “WHAT?” I gasp. “What is the point of that? Why are we in a maze?”

  “Come on,” he says, jerking me onward. “The object of the maze is to get out in one piece. That will be complicated by the fact that we are all going to be tripping balls soon.”

  As he says it, I see a weird face in the shadows. There is nothing there, but…

  “Don't get distracted,” he whispers. “And don't let go of my hand.”

  “God, how do more people not die every year?” I wonder aloud. My voice sounds loud to me, like the only noise in the room.

  “This is the holiday of the goddess of death and ghosts, but most of the older people that are here will spend the evening fucking each other’s brains out.”

  His voice sounds like it is coming from somewhere far away, even though it’s less than a foot from his mouth to my ears. That makes me giggle a little.

  The ceilings back here are draped in the same red and black silk as the shrouds we are wearing. It hangs down in my face, flustering me for a bit. We round another corner, coming to a stumbling halt.

  There, on the other end of the narrow passageway we are in, is a glorious, terrifying figure. A tall woman with a long mane of flowing black hair, her face obscured by a long white veil that pours down from a messy wreath of flowers. Above that, she has a halo of metal spikes. Below, she wears a breastplate of skulls.

  At our appearance, I can just make out a pair of blood red lips curling into a smile. She reaches behind herself and draws twin daggers, the blades gleaming wickedly. It seems like she’s either wearing a lot of glitter… or I’m just hallucinating it falling from the sky.

  “Mania,” Wolf whispers, taking a step backward into me.

  The goddess? She looks awfully real, though I can’t tell now what is flesh and what is fantasy. The line between the two seems inconsequential just at this moment.

  As Wolf backs up, Mania leans down and lunges.

  Oh, fuck.

  Everything flashes black and white for a second. My heartbeat rises so quickly that I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I turn and flee, turning the corner with Wolf right on my heels. Mania’s high pitched scream of laughter pierces the air.

  What the hell is happening?

  Are we really fleeing from a goddess inside her labyrinth on one of her holy nights?

  And what will she do to us if she catches us? Will she actually use those knives of hers?

  My heart pounds dully in my ears.

  Duh-dunh. Duh-dunh. Duh-dunh.

  The sound of our feet slapping the cement floor is painfully loud.

  Mania cackles, the sound raising my hackles. It seems to come from everywhere at once. God, it sounds like she is closer than ever.

  Driven onward by my own fearful ignorance, I scramble to put more distance between her and us. Twisting and turning around corners inside the maze, I figure that she will eventually lose interest and fall behind.

  We pa
ss another cluster of shrouded Skulls and I feel a rush of relief.

  Surely Mania isn’t just here for Wolf and me. She must be a paid actress who has been hired to scare everyone in this labyrinth.

  But when I look back, I see Mania sweep past the other people, her eerie jet black hair gushing wildly behind her. Her scream rises in the air again as I slam into Wolf, tumbling him to the ground. He lands in a heap atop me.

  Mania is on us in an instant, cackling gleefully as she brings both of her blades arcing down toward Wolf’s unprotected back.

  “No!” I scream, trying to shift Wolf bodily. He responds too, but he still only manages to miss one of Mania’s daggers.

  The other hits him in the ribs, sliding in easily. Blood appears on her hands as if by magic. Wolf grunts, surprised.

  Mania tries to pull the blade out, but Wolf smacks her hand away, rolling away with the blade still sticking out of his side. She growls and turns the remaining blade on me, stabbing at me. I dodge the blade and manage to knock it out of her hand.

  Then the blade is loose between us, both of us grabbing for it and screaming. She wrestles it away from me and turns the blade outward, the hilt pressed between her hands.

  Oh, fuck.

  She rises to launch another attack. Scrabbling backward, I look up at her with wide eyes.

  Then a blade erupts through the white cloth at her hip, piercing her bodily. She is yanked to a stop, staring down at the blade. Blood immediately begins to soak the white fabric.

  I gape.

  She falls to her knees, revealing Wolf standing behind her, his hands covered in blood. His dark blue eyes connect with mine for a second before he stumbles, falling again.

  “Wolf!” I cry desperately.

  Keeping my distance from Mania, I dart around her and over to Wolf. He falls forward on his hands, making a low sound like a tortured animal. I drop to my knees before him, my eyes welling with tears.

  “Wolf?” I plead.

  He looks up at me weakly. “Don’t let her get away…”