The door to the tunnels is closed again, locked from the inside, and there are people all around it. I swing the knife at them as I approach, and they scoot back, falling into the pools of deep, black water on either side.
Spencer throws a hard punch at one of the members who approaches us. Spence doesn’t have any formal training like Church or the twins, but he’s scrappy as hell. Just like me. Pretty sure Spencer and I are the most similar out of all the guys.
Church appears from behind us, using the force of his body to knock aside several of the cultists.
“The door,” he says, voice as sharp as the knife in my hand. I shove up the wooden bar that’s blocking the door and yank it wide, revealing the curved walls of the tunnels and a seemingly impenetrable darkness.
“Let’s bail,” Spencer says, snatching a torch from the wall before we take off running together, the knife held pointing down and at my side. Hey, I still remember those stupid safety videos my dad used to make me watch about kids who run with sharp objects. Never thought they’d be referencing a cultist’s knife, but hey, it works.
Footsteps and shouts sound behind us, but either nobody’s got a gun or else they know they can’t risk shooting without killing one of us. Spencer and I, they need for their ritual, and Church, well, Church is a Montague.
“Where are we going?” Spencer asks as our feet splash through the water and I feel my chest get tight with old memories. It better not be raining today. I mean, the sky was clear when we walked from the dorm to the main building, but you never know with my luck.
“I have no idea. This place wasn’t on any of the maps.” Church comes skidding to a stop, putting out a hand and just barely preventing me and Spencer from tumbling over the edge of a cement walkway and into deeper water. He reaches out and takes the torch from Spencer, lifting it high and looking around. Behind us, the tunnel looks much the same as the one we were trapped in before. But when he turns back around, I can see that the wall across from us is a solid, smooth cement with some sort of warning sign attached to it. “Because this isn’t a part of the tunnels,” he murmurs.
“We’re in the sewer,” Spencer adds, finishing Church’s thought. He takes the torch back and looks down one side first and then the other. The sound of approaching footsteps makes my heart pound as I look back into the darkness and find a sea of torches coming toward us. “This way.”
We head down the walkway together, the cement pathway just wide enough for the three of us to run abreast.
I’m panting, my feet screaming from the scrape of the pavement as I pound down the sewer tunnel barefoot. We’ve got a bit of distance on the others, but not a lot. And now that we’ve seen what we’ve seen, we’re not getting out of here as easily as we have in the past.
“Here!” Spencer calls out, skidding to a stop next to an automated door. He licks his lips as he touches the pin pad. “Eddie’s in charge of all this stuff, right?” He pauses, breathing ragged and uneven as Church takes the torch and glances over his shoulder. The other torches aren’t far behind us. “The twins and I have spent years breaking into every shed, every storage closet on campus.” He exhales and tries a combination, cursing when it doesn’t work. And then another.
“We may need to run,” Church says, watching the bobbing lights as they get closer.
“No, I’ve got this,” Spencer says, plugging in another pin code and then fist pumping hard when the door unlocks. “Did you see that, Chuck?” he asks, turning to me with sparkling eyes.
“Yep, yep, you were cool as fuck, now go.” I shove him through the door and Church follows, yanking it closed behind us. More than likely, the cultists already know the code, so they won’t have much trouble following us. This doesn’t buy us much time at all.
Just inside the door is a small command center, probably to do with the water and sewer systems, but we ignore it—none of us would know how to work anything anyway—and head for the ladder against the wall.
We climb out, into the woods behind the school. Where, exactly, we are, I’m not sure but that’s okay. We’ve been here before, and we survived right?
Spencer takes all of thirty seconds to look around.
“I know where we are,” he says, and Church gives him a look.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Spencer takes my hand and we move into the darkness of the trees. Just a few minutes later, we’re coming up on the fountain and the pond, the spot where the boys and I ended up falling after we escaped the tunnels.
We’ve just barely passed it, headed in the direction of the storage shed where we found Ranger beneath the grate, when several of the cultists appear from the trees. Their white fox masks smile at us in the darkness as Selena steps up between them, Gareth by her side.
“You’re ruining everything for me,” she says, holding another knife, the strange rune-like symbol carved into the hilt. “This is my destiny.”
“Sorry to be such a disappointment,” I say as she rushes me, along with several of the robed cultists. Gareth goes for Spencer, while Church is overwhelmed with a good half dozen attackers of his own. Selena swings her knife at me as the other cultists chant, still standing in the shadows near the trees, like ghosts, like specters.
The knife is aimed toward my chest. On reflex, I hold up my own knife and her blade glances off it, making sparks. She’s in a rage now, her yellow dress dirty from dragging down the tunnels. They must’ve taken an alternate route to cut us off like this.
We dance around in a circle, knife to knife. Neither of us are experts, so the playing field is fairly even, but it’s scary as hell. Sweat pours down my face as I swing my own knife in defensive arcs. I don’t want to cut her. I don’t want to see her skin bleed. But I’m running out of options, aren’t I?
Pink and yellow princesses, knife-fighting in the woods.
The east coast is so weird, you guys. What would my California friends say about all of this?!
Hella fucking lame, bro.
Selena’s dark eyes are focused on me, her mouth pursed in a thin line as she presses her height advantage against me, forcing my back against a tree. When she goes for it, putting her full bodyweight into the knife, I drop low and tackle her. Her blade wedges in the tree trunk, tearing out of her hand as we fall to the ground in a glittering sea of skirts and lace. My crown, which has miraculously stayed in my hair this whole time, is torn off and tossed as Selena claws at my face.
“Women are supposed to fix each other’s crowns, you bitch!” I hit her in the face, just the way the twins taught me, cracking her across the jaw. She pushes me up and rolls us over, the extra weight she has on me giving her an advantage. We struggle over the knife, nails raking one another’s skin and drawing blood. It hurts, oh it fucking hurts, but I push the emotion back.
I’m fighting for my life here. There’s no such thing as too much to bear.
“Hah!” Selena shouts, wrenching the knife from my fist and bringing it down hard. I buck, throwing her off-balance just enough that the blade hits the grass instead of my throat. As she struggles to right herself, I shove her back, giving myself just enough room to crawl free. My eyes are on that knife in the tree as I struggle to my feet, petals falling from the corsage on my wrist.
A grunt draws my attention to the left, and I see that Spencer’s bleeding from his arm, clutching an oozing wound as he grits his teeth and backs a step away from Gareth. He doesn’t have a knife to fight back with.
There’s no hesitation as I grab the blade from the tree, ripping it from the loose bark and launching myself at Gareth. He turns at the last second, hesitating briefly—probably because I’m not his mark—and then bringing his own weapon up to defend against mine.
The force of my lunge knocks the blade from his hand, but my triumph is short-lived.
White-hot pain explodes across my vision as I stumble and fall, my body going numb as my hands hit the damp dirt of the forest floor. What just happened? I think as a boy screams my name.
It might be Spencer, could be Church. My brain isn’t working so great right now.
I’ve been stabbed.
I’m hauled back by my hair and thrown onto the ground. Someone’s gotten blood all over my pink dress.
“Finally,” Selena breathes, squatting over me, her dark eyes not without emotion. “I’m sorry, but blood is the only pact that can’t be broken.” She brings her knife to my throat, but I’m not done fighting yet. I grab Selena’s wrists, fighting against her much stronger grip. But my body must be running high on adrenaline because I’m able to keep her off of me until two sets of arms grab her on either side and drag her backwards, shoving her and sending her flying.
The McCarthy twins are here.
“Charlotte,” Ranger says, lifting me up and pulling me back against his chest. “You’re bleeding.”
“I think …” I start as my vision swims and I have to blink several times to stop the forest from spinning. “She stabbed me.” I put my hand on my lower back and lift it to my face, staring at the bright ruby red of blood.
“Jesus Christ,” Ranger growls, hauling me up and into his arms as Micah and Tobias circle Selena, trying to take the knife from her. The other cultists seem loath to interfere with me and Spencer, but they have no problem going for the others. Several of them descend on the twins, and as impressive as their skills are, as impressive as Church’s are, they’re all humans. They have limits.
“Ranger,” a man says, and I recognize that voice as the cult leader’s. He steps forward, out of the shadows of the trees, and lifts his mask up. Ranger’s body stiffens beneath me as I blink through the fog in my vision and try to make sense of who it is that I’m seeing.
It’s Ranger’s dad, Eric.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” Ranger growls, backing us up until we’re pressed against a tree. “I knew you were involved. I knew it, but … Jenica … How could you?”
“Blame your mother for that. She didn’t want you or Jenica involved in the Fellowship. She took great lengths to defy me, running off to Spain the way she did.”
Ranger’s eyes are wide, his jaw clenched tight. He looks down at me then and it’s fear that fills his expression. My hand reaches up to touch the side of his face, smearing blood.
“It’s up to each initiate to choose the person to complete their pact. Rick chose Jenica; there was nothing I could do. If she’d been a part of the Fellowship …”
“Then she’d be a murderer instead of a victim? No thanks.” Ranger pulls me close, his gaze shifting over to Spencer, Micah, Tobias, and Church. The latter three are being wrestled to the ground by dozens of cultists. The former is still facing off against Gareth, but at least neither of them have knives. That is, until Selena passes one of the recovered weapons back to her brother. “Call this shit off and maybe I won’t testify against you in court.”
His father smiles, but it’s not a pretty smile.
“Son, our traditions are centuries old. When the Fellowship first began, we even had the blessing of the church your mother’s so fond of. The wealth and success of our families depends on these traditions. Don’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed your privileged childhood?”
“I enjoyed my sister,” Ranger says, his heart racing against my palm as I lay my hand over his chest. I’m not even sure why I’m doing that, touching him so reverently. Things are getting fuzzy, I won’t lie. “And I enjoy my girlfriend. Let me get her to a hospital.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Eric says as several of the cultists approach and grab Ranger, dragging me from his arms as he does his best to fight back.
Someone lays me on the forest floor and steps away, leaving me with Selena and her knife, and nowhere to go.
I’m going to die here tonight?
I turn my head to the side and find Spencer and Gareth locked in a battle for their lives, the knife inching toward Spencer’s stomach. Selena comes for me again, kneeling down with the blade in hand, taking advantage of the blood loss that’s making my limbs feel heavy.
With the very last of my strength, I reach up and snatch my mother’s hairpin, shoving it into Selena’s eye and making her scream. She falls back, and I push up to my feet, shaking like crazy. I throw myself into Gareth, knocking him away from Spencer.
I collapse to my knees immediately, but I’ve given Spencer the opportunity he needs to take the knife. He shoves it through Gareth’s shoulder as hard as he can and comes for me.
“Chuck-let,” he whispers, looking back to see the other boys struggling against a horde of cultists. There must be … over a hundred of them now, filling the clearing. We’ve bought ourselves a few extra moments, but that’s it.
It’s over.
Spencer picks me up, just like Ranger did, but our backs are to the side of the rocky hillside that surrounds the fountain. There’s nowhere to go. Selena is sobbing and holding her hands over her eye while Gareth bleeds. Nobody moves forward to help them. I get it, it’s part of their ritual. But this isn’t going to last forever.
Mark appears out of the crowd, Aster by his side.
“If you want something done right, you have to do it your fucking self.” The two of them come for us, but I’ve got no fight left, and Spencer can’t do much while he’s holding me. The rest of the cult streams around us, blocking us in with a wall of robes and masks. The other four boys are on their knees, held by four or more cultists each. “Gareth, stop being a little bitch. It’s just a flesh wound.”
Gareth’s pulled the knife from his shoulder, not the smartest move in the world, but it seems that Mark is right. He doesn’t collapse to the ground, and he’s not spurting blood, so it’s likely Spencer missed any critical veins or arteries. And even though Selena’s eye is red and swollen, a bit of blood marring her cheek, she’s up and on her feet just a few seconds later.
The four of them surround us, dragging me from Spencer’s arms as he screams.
Mark, Aster, and Gareth hold him back as Selena sets me down and takes the blade one, last time.
The sharp edge of the knife presses up against the skin of my throat, and I close my eyes, hoping that it happens quick.
I can’t bear to hear the sounds of the boys around me, calling out my name.
“Everyone freeze!” a voice calls out as dozens of people in vests and masks surround us. Selena grits her teeth, shaking above me in pain or fear or adrenaline, I’m not sure. “Nobody move. Put your weapons down.”
Selena stares at me, her eyes glittering with a fanatical light, her arm drawing back with the knife clutched tight in her hand. She swings at me, going for my throat, but a single shot rings out in the clearing and her arm goes limp, body slumping forward over mine.
The knife drops from her hand to the ground, but I’m too far gone to really register what’s happening.
A moment later, hands are dragging Selena off of me, and I’m looking up into Ian Dave’s face. He has an FBI badge hanging around his neck.
“You’ll be okay, Charlotte,” he says as the boys rush to my side. “You’ll be alright.”
The last thing I see before I pass out is the Student Council, looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
And that, that’s a good last memory to have.
After the main character in a book dies, there’s always some purple prose shit, a bunch of flowery fluff about a life well-lived, or all the wonderful lessons the person learned before they passed.
Me, I dream about riding a unicorn, seated behind Ranger Woodruff while the twins march along on either side of us. We come to a castle, where Church is the prince, and Spencer is his handsome silver-haired husband …
Not a very sophisticated death knell, is it?
“Charlotte,” a voice whispers as I struggle to blink through the image of Church and Spencer making out on a dais, crowns on their heads, robes trailing out behind them … Oh, dreams are fun, aren’t they? “Charlotte.”
My eyes open and I find myself looking up at the tear-stain
ed face of Archibald Carson.
“Dad?” I say, or at least … I try to say it. Instead, a weird, choking sound comes out before I start to cough. Dad offers me up some water, and I struggle to sit up. He sets the cup aside and helps me get situated in the pillows before he offers it up again. I drink deeply, water spilling out of my lips and soaking the hospital gown I’m wearing. “Where am I?” I whisper, and Dad’s face softens.
“You’re in the hospital, Charlotte,” he breathes, just before the door flies open and my mother appears, blubbering uncontrollably and throwing herself on my bed in a dramatic move that’s worthy of some old Southern movie with women in floppy hats.
“Mom?” I ask, putting a hand up to my face as I try to remember what the hell happened and how I might’ve gotten here. “Where are the boys?”
“In the waiting room,” Dad answers for me, tucking some hair back behind my ear. My gaze latches on his. That’s seriously one of the nicest, sweetest gestures he’s ever done for me. Remember? We don’t show affection.
“What happened?” I ask, flashes of knife fights, and fox masks, and billowing robes flickering through my mind.
“Ian,” Mom says, lifting her face up to look at me, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She looks like she’s hurting the way I did when I thought Spencer was dead, I think, and a hot flush colors my cheeks. “He led the sting operation on the Fellowship. He’s been working on this for years, you know.”
“Ian Dave,” I say, thinking of the dark-haired, grumbly asshole of a librarian. It all makes sense now, why he pulled the yearbooks, why he tried to stop us from sleuthing around.
“He’s on a special task force that handles cults,” Mom continues proudly, beaming as she smiles at me.
“He said that he was an investigator,” I hedge, rubbing at my head. “Did they catch the bad guys then?”
“Most of the cultists were arrested,” Dad says, nodding. “They’re combing the woods and the tunnels to see if anyone else escaped. Unfortunately, that girl that tried to kill you is still alive, even though she was shot.”
The Forever Crew Page 28