My eyes snap up to his as I force my feet to stay planted and do my best to ignore the wavering of the world around me, this tilting and rocking sensation that must be a stress-related symptom. What did I say when I arrived here in Seattle? That it was undoubtedly the worst day of my life?
I almost laugh at that. Almost. But then I remember the poor dead girl in the box and how she isn’t involved in any of this and yet paid the ultimate price because of it. Saffron kidnapped me; Tess lost me; my bio dad lost his damn mind. It should be me in this box, not her. Me.
“Yes,” I tell him, and I mean it. “Yes, I do.” I look back up and our gazes clash. He knows that we have to do this; I don’t have to convince him. We’d do anything for Parrish, the two of us. His best friend and his … whatever it is that I am to him.
His gamer girl, I guess.
“Fucking Christ,” Chasm snarls, but he moves over to the wooden box anyway. Together, we heft it up and carry it over to his car, shoving it into the trunk as he curses and mutters under his breath. “I already sort of figured that I was going to hell.” Chas steps back and then uses some bungee cords he had stored in the trunk to keep the box in place. We can’t exactly close the trunk; his zippy little sportscar isn’t nearly big enough to hold the … box. “Guess this seals the deal.”
Just think of it as a box, I tell myself. It’s just a box, not a person.
It also proves that JJ was, in fact, a victim of the Slayer. Because of me. Because she was my maid for all of one day. I feel fucking sick to my stomach.
“Let’s go.” I climb in and Chasm does the same, resting his forehead on the steering wheel for a minute before sitting back up and starting the car. “If it’s too much for you—” I begin, but he doesn’t let me finish, casting me this death glare that gives me the chills.
“I’m not leaving you to do this alone, and I sure as hell am not leaving Parrish to get killed by some deranged lunatic. Are you kidding me? I know you don’t like me, but you really have low expectations.” Chas backs out of the parking space and off we go, following the directions that were given to us.
“Whoever said I didn’t like you?” I whisper, because it’s just too much to ask me to talk any louder than that right now. There is a dead girl in the trunk of my stepbrother/boyfriend’s best friend’s luxury sportscar, a girl that was killed by my supposed bio dad who also happens to be the Seattle Slayer whose victim count just clicked up one from twelve to thirteen.
If he killed Parrish, too, then it’d be fourteen …
I was missing for fourteen years.
Could be a coincidence or … not.
I clamp a hand over my mouth and lean back in the seat, doing my best to think about anything but the bloodied corpse in the trunk. Well, it’s not even really in the trunk, is it? It’s half-hanging out for the whole world to see. It could theoretically fall out onto the road, crack open, be exposed to anyone driving by …
“You don’t have to like me. Just don’t ask me to stay out of this; it’s insulting.” Chasm turns up the music, and I lean back, wishing that the moment were different so that I could correct him. I do like you. In fact, I’ve just realized that I have a crush on you. Isn’t that sick? The guy I like is missing and could very well end up dead, and I’m thinking about you. That’s all sorts of messed the hell up. “Don’t you think these tasks are escalating rather quickly?” he asks me, but I can’t respond to that right now.
I don’t even want to think about that.
I just have to work harder, do more research, figure out the trick. Because in every game, there’s a trick, something to make it all so much easier, to nail that high score, to snag that grand master rank, to kick big boss Bowser’s ass. Something.
“We have to find Parrish. Period. There’s nothing else to it. There are no alternatives.”
Chasm grunts but doesn’t reply.
About an hour later, we pull up outside a house with cheery yellow siding and an impressive garden out front. There are flowers in every shade, blooming prettily along the edges of the driveway and the sidewalk. In the center of it all, there’s a bright green lawn and a bird fountain with small songbirds hopping around in it. The house sits just outside a town called Granite Falls, another Podunk place in the middle of nowhere. This is the only house for miles.
Great. I’m sure that’s a wonderful omen.
“Fucking hell,” Chasm chokes out. “Whose house is this? We’re not, like, delivering this girl to her parents or something, are we?” He looks over at me, and I meet his eyes. I don’t have an answer to his question, but I sure as hell hope not.
Burning down the theater was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.
This is worse than that.
Much, much worse.
At least nobody was hurt in the fire; somebody is dead this time.
JJ. An eighteen-year-old girl who did nothing but end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We get out of the car, unhooking the bungee cords and then carrying the box to the front porch of the house. There was nothing in my instructions that said I had to knock or ring the bell or anything, so I don’t. Instead, as soon as we set that box down, Chasm and I turn to leave.
Only … someone comes out of the house and sees us.
My eyes meet his and a cold chill skitters through me. Every instinct in my body tells me to run. Every cell. Every chromosome.
I know this guy, I think, just before another thought crosses my mind: is this him? Is this my father?
Dear god, I hope not.
“What are you doing here?” the man asks, which sort of helps to answer that question. He runs his tongue across his lower lip which most definitely isn’t a good sign. Chasm has my arm in his hand already and he’s tugging me down the path.
Unfortunately for the pair of us, we don’t get very far.
“Wait a second,” the guy tells us, drawing a gun from the waistband of his pants and pointing it at us. “The two of you aren’t going fucking anywhere.”
Chasm stares at the gun like he can’t quite process what he’s seeing. This is a far cry from our time at the lake, isn’t it? When I danced to Working Bitch and he tried to kiss me against the trunk of a tree. How the hell did we end up here of all places, with a dead maid in a box, and a gun pointed at us?
“Get in the house.” The man gestures with the gun before leaning down and cracking open the lid to the box. Unlike any normal human being, he doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction to it. Actually, he seems … annoyed?
This is not the boss, Dakota. This is the sub-boss.
In which case, he’ll be easier to beat but far more annoying than the final monster. That’s how games always work. Somehow, thinking about the man with the gun as a stupid shitty sub-boss makes the situation easier to deal with.
“Dakota, run,” Chasm whispers, and then he shoves me to one side and freaking tackles the guy. The gun falls to the floor as both men crash into the wall, grappling with one another. There are precious few seconds to waste, so I don’t bother overthinking the situation.
Instead, I’m throwing myself on the floor and going for the weapon. The man that Chasm’s attacking is no amateur though, and he kicks the gun away before I can grab it. I scramble to my feet at the same moment that Chasm is shoved back. He ends up falling against me and we hit the ground together hard enough to knock the air out of me.