I glanced into the pond where a middle-aged woman with olive skin and black hair streaked with gray stood before a stove. A younger girl, a spitting image of the older, sat on the counter, twisting her fingers in her lap as her lips moved. They spoke to each other with easy smiles and loving looks, though their sorrow carved weary lines in both their faces.
“I can tell she’s your sister.” I scooted closer until my shoulder pressed to Grant’s, refusing to move my eyes from the pool. “She’s got the same fire in her eyes. She’s strong, determined, like you. Though she makes you look like a country bumpkin.”
He snickered and turned back to the pool. “I had a fight with my pa before the accident. Stupid really.” Grant lowered his head, inspecting the inch of grass between our hands as he whispered. “I wanted to quit wrestlin’, but I would lose a partial scholarship if I did. And he told me I was throwin’ my future away just ’cause some of the guys couldn’t deal with—”
Clearing his throat, he stared into the trees, not truly seeing them. “I told him he couldn’t control my life. That he didn’t understand. I accused him of thinkin’ less of me, like I wasn’t the son he wanted. But that was bullshit. He never gave up on me, even when I dragged my family through shit. He fuckin’ loved and supported me, no matter what. And I was an ungrateful bastard.”
The atmosphere filled with sorrow. Like the forest could sense his pain, the clouds darkened and swirled. Balling his hands into fists, he slammed his eyes shut. “I just needed a break, you know? So, I went out for a little bit with some friends. In hindsight, I should have just stayed and talked it out with my pa. Instead, that final fight is my father’s last memory with me.”
“I’m sure your dad doesn’t even remember the fight.” Tentatively, I blanketed his clenched fist with my hand. “He won’t look back on his memories of you, and only think of that heated moment when you both said shit you didn’t mean. If anything, he’ll regret losing his temper, too. He’ll miss you. He won’t blame you.”
“I was speedin’.”
“Everyone speeds.”
“I’d had a beer.”
Exasperated, I threw my hands in the air. “If you’re looking for fault, you’ll always find it. But honestly, sometimes shit just happens. I tripped down the stairs and died. Because of a goddamn cat. I mean, that shit only happens in Final Destination movies!” Grant’s sour mood wavered, a grin teasing his lips, and I blushed in embarrassment, returning my attention to the pool of water where mother and daughter embraced. “Shit happens, Grant. Sometimes, that’s all there is to it.”
He pursed his lips, glaring at the water for a never-ending moment. The silence was oppressing.
“It’s why I signed up for the games,” he admitted as the pool wiggled, erasing the ghost of his family. “I have to go back to make things right. I can’t leave things the way they are, you know?”
“Then win.” Our eyes met, our heads closer than they were before, his fist loosening under my palm. “You’re strong and smart. You can win.”
“So can you.”
A derisive laugh filled the small space between us. “Please, I got lucky a few times. That’s the only reason I’m still alive.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
As his hand flattened under mine, my finger slid between his, and I swore his head inclined toward mine. The bullfrogs quieted, and the chirping birds fell silent. It was just us, Grant and I, and my stomach somersaulted. Holy shit! Was this happening?
A raindrop splattered on my nose, and, like waking from a haze, Grant blinked rapidly and jerked away. My fingers stung from his hasty retreat, but I quickly masked any disappointment from my face. The sounds of the woods were suddenly too loud. I wrapped my arms around my torso, instantly cold though the temperature hadn’t changed.
“We should head back.” Grant stood abruptly, cracking his neck as he snatched the picnic basket from the ground. More droplets plummeted to the earth. “For all I know, we’re not even allowed to be here anyway.”
“Yeah, maybe Death will drop us through a trapdoor or feed us to the zombies.”
Neither of us laughed at my gruesome joke, and we returned to the building in somber silence as a storm closed in. At the base of the stairs, Grant paused, letting the rain soak his shirt. He studied the large tree erected in the center of the circular drive.
“You think that’s the tree Adam and Eve ate from?” he mused.
I shielded my face as I followed his gaze with a snort. “Maybe. I never really believed in the Bible, but I also would never have believed in all this bullshit, either. Maybe that is the tree of life.”
“Technically, Adam and Eve ate from the tree of knowledge,” Grant said.
I waved my middle finger in his face. “Where did you learn that? Sunday school?”
“Har, har.” He flicked my ear as he bounded up the steps, and I followed at a slower pace, rubbing the tender shell. “You always gotta be such a smartass?”
“Well, I gotta tone down the sexy somehow or else your face would melt off.”
Throwing his head back, rain drops trickled down his face and dripped off his jaw. He guffawed into the sky, and his laughter eased the heaviness in my heart. “You’re somethin’ else, Lea.”
I didn’t ask for clarification, and he didn’t offer it. But I let him hold the door open for me and dragged a hand down his forearm as I passed, meeting his eyes for brief yet vulnerable moment.
“Thanks, Boston.” I infused everything I could into those two words, and I thought he understood.
His eyes crinkled at the edges, and he dipped his head. “You’re welcome, green.”
Chapter 12
Threats and Theatrics
Grant and I parted at the elevator, him heading to his room and me to mine. I tiptoed past the cubby hole with the ice machines, but the space was thankfully sex-free. Distracted with thoughts of Grant and our maybe-almost kiss, I didn’t notice the person lying in wait on the other side of my bedroom door.
The moment the door shut, the light clicked on without any action on my part. I shrieked like a banshee as Natalia stepped into my line of vision. Her hands were thankfully free of any weapons, but every instinct in my body warned for caution. Natalia was not my friend, nor my ally. Hell, she wasn’t even a neutral party. She was my enemy, plain and simple. And I was cornered in my room with her. Alone.
Perfect!
“Ah, the seeds of young love. How precious.” She simpered, but the sentiment didn’t reach her eyes. “Did you enjoy your little date? Has the mouse finally tamed the big bad wolf?”
Her condescension suffocated me, and I closed my fist around the door handle behind my back on the off chance she attacked me. I needed an exit strategy that didn’t end with me being strangled by the edible underwear in my side table.
“Not sure what you’ve been smoking, but rest assured, I haven’t been on a date in an embarrassingly long time.” I leaned against the door and feigned utter relaxation. “Was there something you needed, or is this a social call?”
Dragging her fingertips across the top of my dresser, she chuckled deeply. “Why not both? How do you Americans say it? Two birds, one rock?”
“Close enough.” My palms slicked with sweat, mixing with my rain-soaked skin and coating the metal handle with moisture. “But I feel I should come clean in case there was a cultural mix-up today. If you’re here as some sort of cougar move, I’m gonna have to stop you. You don’t got the right equipment to tempt me, and I’m pretty sure you’re old enough to be my mom.”
“Ooh, the mouse is feisty.” Her eyes flashed harsh and cruel, but the plastic smile remained. “Though, mice should be careful. They’re stupid, dirty creatures on the bottom of the food chain. Mice do well to crawl back into their holes and hide, tuck in their tails and hope the wolves don’t come digging. They’re weak, and they know it.”
My face sweltered at the underhanded insult, and I squeezed the door handle in my wet grasp so I wo
uldn’t be tempted to punch her in her smug face. Her sharp eyes stripped me, leaving me naked and vulnerable. I swallowed heavily as she cornered me, a lioness herding her prey.
Like a bad villain in an action movie, she started her monologue as she closed in, her fingers dancing over the wall. “There’s something about mice that has always rubbed me wrong. The way they infiltrate everywhere, burrowing through the holes and infesting every nook and cranny. The disgusting vermin multiply and infect, spreading disease. When left to fester, they’ll destroy everything.
“Do you know what we do to rodents in Mother Russia, mouse?” She stopped two inches from me, her taloned hand raking through my damp curls.
“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me every gory detail.” I angled my body away from her, but she tightened her fingers in my hair until my scalp protested.
“We exterminate them. We flood their holes and gas their nests. We squish their babies under our heels. We annihilate them until there’s nothing left but smoking pelts and dusty bones. And when the last little mouse is gasping for breath,”—she invaded my space until her nose brushed mine—“we wait and we watch. We make an example for all his little mouse friends so they never dare to enter our house again.”
Damn, the woman sure had a lot to say about mice. Was she a mouse expert? Did she have some kind of fetish? Gross!
“Listen, lady, if you want your own mouse farm to reign over with terror, I bet Death could hook you up. Don’t let me stop you from living your dream.” I licked my lips, my fear fueling my motormouth. “But have you ever considered counseling? I’m sure they have something out there for you—Bestiality and How to Overcome It 101.”
Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes narrowed, her free hand cinching around my upper arm, her nails digging into my flesh. “Listen carefully. I will not let anyone or anything get in the way of me returning to my daughter. So if you know what’s good for you, stay out of my way.”
She released my arm. I rubbed at my biceps, feeling the indentations left by her nails. Patting my cheek harder than necessary, she stretched her lips in a chilling smile. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your little mouse friend, now, would you?”
My heart hammered in my chest at her stony expression, the warning chilling me to my bones. How did she know about Grant? Had she followed me? Was she watching us?
In an uncharacteristic show of submission, I dropped my eyes to her plain black shirt. She straightened immediately like we had reached an unspoken agreement. After her hand ripped from my hair, tearing a few strands loose as it did, she brushed off her clothes like my presence had somehow sullied her.
“Good little mouse. I don’t think it needs to be said, but I hope our conversation can stay between us.” When my head twitched in the closest thing to a nod I could manage, she smiled, appeased, then added pressure to my shoulder to move me from blocking the door. “Sweet dreams, Leah Anderson. Don’t let the hellhounds bite.”
The door shut behind her with an anticlimactic click.
I slumped against the wall and rubbed my palm over my galloping heart. Her threats shouldn’t scare me, because according to the rules, she couldn’t hurt me. Or Grant. Yet, my blood raced through my veins, cold as ice.
Natalia had always been a threat, but I hadn’t wasted time or energy worrying about her. Apparently, I should have. Underestimating her was a mistake I wouldn’t make again. My life and possibly Grant’s depended on it.
Though, why should I fight it? What was the point? It wasn’t like I could win. Natalia was right; I was a mouse fighting against a pack of wolves.
What chance did I actually have?
Mice skittered across the floorboards, scurrying under my bed. Something scaly and cold slid over my shin, and the sharp sting of a bite pulsed through my thumb. I tried to move, to shove the creatures crawling onto my mattress off. But I couldn’t lift a finger.
Furry bodies rank with the smell of waste and sickness crept over me, scratching, squealing, and biting me with their diseased teeth. And then Grant was there, his face tight with anger as he batted away the feral rodents.
Relief swam through my frozen body as he plucked me off my bed and into his arms.
“Don’t worry, green. I’ve got you,” Grant whispered, his voice warbled. Nuzzling my neck, his stubble stung my skin.
Yelping, I wrenched away, only to freeze in fear.
Grant’s smile twisted into a sneer. His teeth, usually straight and white, shifted until they were sharp and rotten. The olive color of his skin darkened to match his inky hair, and his eyes went from protective to predatory.
A gurgled cry scraped its way past my numb lips, but even if I could have moved, I wouldn’t have been able to escape his clawed grasp.
With eyes watching me in the dark like pits of coal, the creature growled in a familiar female voice. “Sweet dreams, Lea Anderson. Don’t let the hellhounds bite.”
Its jaws descended, cutting off my scream…
My eyes whipped open as a silent scream fell from my mouth. Panic surged through me, claiming every muscle, every thought, for its own.
I could still feel the scuttling of tiny, clawed feet on my body, could still see the murderous intent in the hellhound’s black eyes as it…
The muscles in my back coiled, and I bit my tongue hard enough to bleed.
Think, Lea. Relax.
Trying to quell the panic in my chest, I released a deep breath through pursed lips. The light from my bathroom illuminated the room through the cracked door, revealing zero mice or hellhounds, only my boujee suite.
It was just a dream, a really bad dream.
The nightmare hovered over me a moment longer before dissipating like morning mist, and I sighed in relief. I was fine. There wasn’t a hellhound trying to eat me for a midnight snack.
I fumbled over the mattress and searched for the alarm clock. What time was it?
Misjudging where it sat, I accidentally swiped it onto the floor. Music blared from the device, scaring me shitless, and I tumbled off the bed. I hit carpet, the freshly cleaned fibers stinging my nose with the overwhelming aroma of Arm & Hammer. Promptly sitting up, I slapped the Off button on the device and blinked at the time with watery eyes.
2:19 a.m.
With another groan, I stumbled to the bathroom. The fluorescent lights stung my eyes when I opened the door further, and I shielded them as my vision adjusted to the brightness.
The nightmare, though I refused to recall the details, wouldn’t leave the back of my mind. The remnants swirled in the shadows, like background noise I couldn’t tune out.
Splashing my face with cold water, I knew what I needed to do to rid myself of it. It wasn’t fair to keep what happened with Natalia to myself. Grant deserved to know if someone was threatening his life. We were friends now, and I owed him this.
After scrubbing my face with the hand towel, I tossed it on the tiled floor before skedaddling out of my suite. The halls were bare as I wandered them, searching the arrows on the walls for the direction to Grant’s room. If it wasn’t for the names attached to the room numbers, I wouldn’t have known where to go.
Lost in my musings, I almost didn’t hear the soft sobbing until it was too late. Luckily, I heard it in time and stopped in my tracks. The sounds echoed from around the corner, almost too quiet to hear with the growling storm outside. Slowly, carefully, I tread forward and peeked around the corner.
Natalia faced the window, her face occasionally illuminated by the lightning outside. Tears cascading down her sharp cheekbones as she clutched something to her chest. From this distance, it was difficult to make out what the item was, but as lightning flashed again, I recognized it was a doll. Made from ripped sheets and hastily woven grass, it was designed like a girl with blue buttons for eyes and yellow hair threaded from straw.
Natalia had mentioned a daughter.
Watching her weep in solitude gave me pause. Since the start, I had thought of Natali
a as a ruthless bitch. To be honest, I still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced she wasn’t. But there was something familiar in her face that made it hard to hate her.
Grief. Natalia was grieving the loss of her life like the rest of us.
She sniffled, wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt, and I took that as my cue to leave. She was having a personal moment, lost in her own pain. No matter how much I disliked her, she didn’t deserve to have someone eavesdropping.
Taking a different route, I set my sights on Grant’s room. Though this time, I wasn’t as confident in my plan for justice.
When I reached Grant’s room, my hand hovered over the door to knock. But before I could make a sound, the door swung open. Grant leaned against the wooden doorframe, his arms crossed over his shirtless body.
My mouth went dry, and I forgot everything I was going to say. “Uh, what?”
He raised an amused eyebrow. “You do remember you’re the one knockin’ on my door in the middle of the night, right?”
Grimacing, I cleared my throat. “How did you even know I was here?”
Snorting, he jabbed his thumb at the door’s peephole. “I heard you talkin’ to yourself and saw you standin’ outside like a lunatic. I got bored waitin’ for you to gather your balls and fuckin’ knock.”
I flushed, unaware I’d been talking to myself. “Yeah, well, we need to talk.”
“Right now?” he asked, voice laced in incredulity.
I shoved past him, not waiting to be invited inside. “Yes, right now.”
With a tired sigh, he let the door shut before following me into his room. I took a brief moment to scan it, noting how similar it was to mine.
Grant shuffled past me, rubbing his face as he collapsed on his couch. “What is so important that you felt the need to wake me up at this hour? It’s not really the best time for soci—”
“Natalia cornered me in my room tonight,” I blurted.
His posture straightened, and he stared in shock, mouth slightly open. “What? Are you okay?”
The Death Games Page 13