I should’ve been scared because I was walking into the belly of the beast. The Masked Figure was out to get us—me—and I was heading straight for him. But I felt calmer than I had in a year. This time I wasn’t going to let him hide in the shadows. I was ready to confront him, find out who he was. Stop him.
There was a lone figure standing like a statue at the Eighty-First Street park entrance, his shoulders and head frosted with snow. A pit of dread formed in my stomach and grew bigger and bigger as I drew closer, until finally, the shadowed features of his face assembled into someone I recognized.
“Thayer?”
He blinked like I’d startled him, even though he’d been watching me approach. “Hey,” he said.
“You want to go in together?”
“Yeah.” He stuffed his fists into the pockets of his thick Canada Goose jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”
It turned out there were no guards blocking our way, none of those blue wooden NYPD sawhorses to weave around. We walked through the open entrance and into Central Park like we were taking a stroll at noon.
Usually grass and a network of trails and pathways could be seen, but all of it lay buried under an expanse of white. Only the lamps, glowing like little moons in the night, demarcated the pathways.
Freddie’s instructions for his Fear Test had been simple: Meet at the Delacorte Theater.
It was an open-air amphitheater that overlooked the stony turrets of Belvedere Castle. That section of the park was ensconced in trees and follies and reservoirs like it was straight out of a Grimms’ fairy tale.
I’d been there only once before, two summers earlier, when Mom had gotten us tickets for Shakespeare in the Park and we drove in from Long Island. Even then, with the lamps on, park maps, and packs of people all there to see the show, Mom and I had still gotten lost, meandering through the lawns and winding roads. Now I started typing into Google Maps, but my hands must’ve been numb from the cold, because my phone slipped out of my grasp and made an indelicate belly flop into the snow. I picked up the phone and tried to wipe it down, but Thayer was already on the move and I couldn’t lose him. I pocketed the phone and caught up.
The park was so different at night. When it gleamed in daylight, Central Park was the city’s beating heart. There could’ve been a million people inside, but it always felt like it could expand endlessly to make room for more. But at two in the morning, there were no joggers or cyclists. No park attendants in their green golf carts. No street vendors selling ice cream and overpriced bottles of water. At nighttime, the city’s beating heart was a black hole.
“Is Freddie here yet?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know what he’s going to do for his Fear Test?”
Thayer shook his head, and the silence that elapsed was so deep I could hear the snowflakes landing on our jackets. Minutes passed like strange whispers in the dark. We’d been inside the park only a few minutes, but already it felt like we were in another world, the city falling away, blurred out. It was like we were inside a snow globe; the edges of everything seemed to fade into nothingness.
I felt stiff fingers sharply graze my arm. I jumped, but there was only a tree, its low-hanging branches reaching to scratch me. I tried to steady my breath, but my heartbeat was revving like a chain saw. That was how I knew I was scared—had been scared since we’d gotten here: when the most mundane things took on a sinister vibe. It was just a tree, and it was just the park, but all of it was giving me the creeps. If this was a Grimms’ fairy tale, we were at the part where the deceptive whimsy of the story gave way to the unexpected gruesomeness hidden within it.
Thayer’s silence wasn’t helping. I wanted more than anything for him to go back to being the guy I’d known, cracking obscene jokes just to make me laugh. The guy who’d existed before Saundra died. I had the distinct feeling that I was walking with someone I knew and yet didn’t really know at all.
At first, I noted with relief that our steps were so clearly imprinted in the snow, because it meant somebody could potentially find us if the Fear Test went sideways. Then, I realized that it also meant that these tracks could lead someone directly to us. It was like the scene with the hedge maze in The Shining. I was Danny and somewhere out there was Jack Nicholson with an ax.
Some people would probably find this setting serene. A calm, black-and-white contrast to the bustling city beyond the borders. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something seemed off. I looked behind me and found darkness. More darkness in front of me, but in the distance I could swear the darkness took form.
I stopped in my tracks.
“Do you see that?” I asked. “Up ahead, it looks like there’s someone there.”
“I don’t see anything.” But Thayer didn’t even look in the direction I was pointing. And anyway, what I thought I’d seen must’ve slunk away or evaporated, because the view was back to formless black.
Still, the uneasiness stayed with me. With every step we took, I had the sinking feeling that Thayer knew something I didn’t. That my friend, a person I should trust, was actually leading me somewhere I shouldn’t be going.
“Thayer, what’s up?”
He didn’t even try to answer this time. A twig snapped but I forced myself not to react. I put my hand on his forearm and he finally stopped, looking me in the eye for the first time tonight.
“You don’t have to be scared,” I said. “If the Masked Man is here, he’s only after me.”
Thayer looked down at the ground but I bent my knees, forcing our eyes to meet.
“I’m ready for him. Whatever happens tonight, we’re going to stop all this.”
When Thayer did look up, it was with glassiness in his eyes. “Was Saundra into drugs?”
“What?” I said.
“Hard drugs.”
The randomness of the question made me laugh, a short, sudden burst. “No. Never.”
Thayer nodded, like he knew just as well as I did that the suggestion was ridiculous.
“I got her autopsy report,” Thayer said.
My ears perked up. I knew he had access to this stuff through his father, even if his father didn’t realize it.
“She had LSD in her system. A lot of it. Someone drugged her.”
“What?”
“She was tripping,” Thayer said. He was looking down as he spoke, his chin tucked into his neck but I could hear the tears in his voice. “She was seeing things.”
“Tell me everything, Thayer. What did you find out?”
“You can really hurt yourself when you have a bad trip. When you have that much acid in your system and you have a bad trip, you could do really dangerous things. And Saundra was having a really bad trip—”
He was starting to repeat himself, the words coming faster and faster, so I stopped him, got to the point. “How do you know? You couldn’t tell she was having a bad trip from an autopsy.”
Thayer finally picked his head up and looked at me, almost like he was surprised I hadn’t caught up yet. “I was on the roof with her.”
There was a sound, a rushing in my ears. It felt like all the air was gone, and no matter how much I tried to gulp it in, I got nothing. I must’ve been breathing, though, because I was still standing there. My heart was still beating. “What—what are you talking about?”
“It isn’t anyone from your past, Rachel.”
I felt the hairs on my arm rise. I got the sense that there was someone else close by, watching us. Stalking us. Another twig snapped, even though Thayer and I were standing still. I looked around, but Thayer’s words had me dizzy, like I was the one who’d been drugged.
“Did you—did you push Saundra?”
“No!” He was adamant, frustrated, but he was having trouble saying everything he wanted to say. As if there was too much of it. “I didn’t—this is much bigger than me. It’s bigger than our game.”
The noise wasn’t restricted to my mind anymore; it was getting louder,
coming closer.
“We aren’t the only ones playing—”
“Thayer, watch out!”
The noise in the woods became a person in a mask, upon us as though out of thin air. He held a knife up and slashed it downward. One swift motion that stopped with an ugly squelch in the middle of Thayer’s back.
Thayer’s mouth, open in midsentence, stayed gaping, silently howling as he sank to the ground.
50
MY HANDS CAME up to cover my own slack mouth, tears pricking my eyes. In the seconds that I stayed shell-shocked, the masked figure ripped the knife out of Thayer and came after me.
I tried to run, but I wasn’t quick enough. He slammed into me, bringing us both down to the ground. I twisted around so I could see him, anticipate any sudden moves. Flashes of my kitchen on Long Island came flooding back to me. The icy snow on the back of my neck seamlessly transformed into cold tile, and this person’s grip became Matthew’s, his knees digging painfully into my hips.
It was like the memory infused me with adrenaline. As if the nightmares had been rehearsals for this very moment. He gripped the knife in both hands and raised it above his head, but but I blocked him with my forearm. With my free hand, I felt around, shoving through the wet powder until I found a rock. Big as a heart. I grabbed it and swung.
The rock made a dull thump as I crashed it into the Masked Man’s temple. Fear and adrenaline had made me strong—stronger than him, at least—and it was enough to knock him out. He collapsed on top of me, lifeless.
I kicked him until he was completely off of me and I could scurry out from under him, kicking the knife away. I sat up, gulping in ragged breaths. A few feet away, Thayer was facedown on the ground. I crawled to him, the snow turning slick under my palms and seeping through the fabric of my jeans. I flipped him over and searched for the wound, patting him down—searched for a pulse too, but my hands were too shaky to be of any use.
I dug into my pockets, my fingers scrambling for my phone. When I finally yanked it out and tried to thumb it on, the screen stayed black. The surface of it was streaked with moisture—residual droplets from when it had fallen it in the snow earlier. I shook the phone, smacked it against my thigh, nearly broke my finger slamming it down on the power button again and again. Nothing.
No phone, no help, and the Masked Man was lying right there.
I had to go get someone. I had to help Thayer. But even though I knew I should be running, my body seemed to move of its own accord toward the Masked Man.
I approached him slowly until I was hunched over him, my fingers reaching out to touch him. I turned him onto his back. He seemed lighter now. Smaller. I curled my fingers under the edge of the mask and yanked it off in one quick motion. It was Felicity.
51
I RAN.
I could see one of the castle towers that poked up behind the Delacorte. It was my North Star. Freddie must be there by now, I thought, and even if he wasn’t, there must be a patrol cop around the premises, someone I could flag down for help.
But when I got to the theater, there was no one. I skirted the perimeter, stopping at every ticket window to slam my fists against the closed wooden slats, hoping someone would come, but it was boarded up for the winter. It wasn’t ’til I reached the entrance at the side that the door gave way when I pushed it. I ran down the aisle, passing rows of seats, working my way to the grand circular stage. The place was cavernous, empty except for a lone figure.
I nearly sobbed with relief when I saw Freddie standing in the center of the platform, his back toward me. I could only make out his silhouette, but I knew it was him.
“Freddie!” I called as I ran to him, racing up the steps. He heard me coming and turned around and I didn’t stop until I was practically on him, my body colliding into his. He gripped me by the shoulders, holding me up as my knees buckled.
“Rachel, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Felicity.” I was trying to catch my breath and get everything out at the same time. “Felicity’s the one who’s been doing this to us. She’s the Masked Man.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I pulled the mask off her myself. She attacked Thayer.”
“What?”
“Just now. She stabbed him. He needs help.”
Freddie pulled me in, enveloping me in tight arms.
“It’s okay.” He whispered it into my hair. And then he asked, “Are you scared?”
“Yes,” I said, trembling.
“Good.”
“What?” I pulled back, searching Freddie’s face. All I saw there was a smile.
He took something out of his pocket and slipped it over his head. The white rubber mask stared back at me. Freddie wore it like a blue ribbon.
“That isn’t funny, Freddie.”
“The test is almost finished, Rachel.” From his other pocket, he drew out a switchblade, expertly flicking open the blade. “All you have to do … is scream.”
52
I TURNED TO run, but Freddie’s fingers were already clenched around my wrist, the tip of his blade suddenly against my sternum. I tried to grab it with my free hand, but Freddie pressed the blade harder, shaking his head.
This boy holding a knife to my chest couldn’t have been Freddie. I didn’t recognize him. I’d wandered into the uncanny valley somehow, and I wanted out.
“The rules,” I said frantically. Rules were the only thing that made sense right now, and, something told me, the only thing that Freddie would adhere to. “A member of the Mary Shelley Club can never be a target.”
Not me. It couldn’t be me. I’d just asked Thayer who the target was tonight. I realized slowly that when he didn’t answer, it wasn’t because he didn’t know. It was because he did.
“You’re still probationary, remember?” Freddie said. “You were never a member of the Mary Shelley Club. My Fear Test began the moment I met you. Before you even knew what the Mary Shelley Club was.”
He didn’t need the knife; his words were a stab to the heart. Was this a nightmare? Was I asleep? I told myself to wake up, dug my fingernails into the meaty parts of my palms, hard enough to draw blood. But nothing roused me. Not even the knife still pointed at my heart.
“The rest of the club didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off. Especially Bram. They thought I’d slip up or you’d catch on, so they let me go with it. I guess they thought it’d improve their own chances of winning.”
Freddie’s voice, muffled behind the mask, took on an anecdotal quality, the way it did whenever he talked horror trivia with me. It was a punch to the gut, remembering moments like those, where we could happily waste so much time discussing the minute details of our favorite slashers.
All of it had been a lie. I’d opened up to him and he’d used it all against me.
“Do you get it now?” he said. More urgency in his voice, more pressure behind the knife. “Felicity, Bram, even sweet Thayer. They were all lying to you. When you were trying to figure out who the Masked Man was? We all knew. We all put on the mask, we all twisted the knife. Can you just appreciate that? How long it all took? The buildup? I served a five-course meal, Rachel—just for you.”
He pulled off the mask and showed it to me, as if I was seeing it for the first time. “Didn’t you ever notice the face? Long. Sunken cheeks. Scars everywhere. It’s Frankenstein, painted white.”
Of course it was. Mary Shelley’s monster had been staring me in the face all this time and I couldn’t see it. Only someone who had an obsession with horror movies would take a cue from the Halloween mask: repurpose a recognizable, innocuous face by turning it into something horrible. Freddie was probably really proud of that one.
“So tell me,” he said, “how’d I do?”
I tried to push him off me but Freddie’s grip was too strong. I’d never seen him this way. In all our time together—as friends walking to the subway, when I was kissing him in dark corners—I’d never seen just how intimidating he could be. How menacing h
is smile actually was. It was like watching a performance, but I couldn’t follow the plot.
“This isn’t you,” I said. “You’re good.” It wasn’t just a tactic, an attempt to appeal to his compassion. I meant what I said. “I know you didn’t kill Saundra.”
“Why? Because I was with you when she died?”
“Because Thayer told me,” I said. My teeth were starting to chatter, but it had nothing to do with the cold. “Before Felicity stabbed him, he told me he was on the roof.”
Freddie sighed and shut his eyes, annoyed. “See, this is why he had to go. He was blabbing to everybody. You know he was going to confess to knowing what happened to Saundra. That he’d been up there when she got spooked. That I drugged her.”
“You what?”
“He didn’t tell you that part?” Freddie said. “Saundra fell, Rachel. Thayer chased her all the way up to the roof—she basically led him there herself—and she got scared. She tripped over herself and fell through the skylight. Thayer actually tried to catch her but … well, you know.”
It made sense now why Thayer had done a complete one-eighty after Saundra’s death. He blamed himself.
“She was never supposed to die,” Freddie said. He almost seemed to feel bad.
“You drugged her.”
“Only to make things more interesting.”
I crave chaos. He’d told me that a long time ago and I was only starting to understand how seriously I should’ve taken him.
“Thayer couldn’t leave well enough alone. He had to go digging. He grew a conscience. I couldn’t let him talk.”
The Mary Shelley Club Page 27