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The HVACs blasted back to life.

“We didn’t break any rules!” Shelton shrieked. “We followed everything exactly!”

“Oh holy hell.” Hi was staring at Jason.

Oh no.

Jason. Chance.

We’d told others about The Game.

We’d sought outside help, which was strictly forbidden.

We
had
broken The Rules.

And the Gamemaster intended to exact punishment.

I heard a rattle by my feet. Looked down. A small hole had opened at the base of the front panel.

Adrenaline shot through me. Every hair on my body stood on end.

I knew what was coming.

Sweet mother of God.

We’d saved the people at the debutante ball.

Now the gas was for us.

CHAPTER 47

“W
e have to get out of here!”

My hands shook. My heart banged my ribs. I saw nothing but the small round hole that might soon spew my death.

Hi’s cheeks flushed as dark as his purple tuxedo. “Is that what I think it is?”

“We didn’t cheat!” Shelton verged on tears. “We beat The Game without help!”

Ben charged into the passage and shoulder-slammed the grate.

Chance hopped backward in surprise. “What are you doing, man?”

“Get us out!” Ben bellowed.

“It won’t budge.” Chance sounded exhausted. “These clamps must be made of freaking Kevlar. I can’t hammer them off.”

“Find a way!” Ben shouted. “We’re about to
die
in here, Claybourne!”

The banging resumed, more frenzied than before.

Inside the device, one deadly canister spun. As I watched, it slotted forward into a narrow chute. On-screen, the Gamemaster’s final message winked out.

The second Plexiglas cover abruptly slid sideways.

A metal handle emerged to fill the empty space.

“What the frick?” Jason said.

I stared at the strange mechanism. It looked like the grip of a shovel. Arrows on its surface pointed both clockwise and counterclockwise.

“It must turn,” I said, vaguely aware that Ben had rejoined us.

“Like a valve?” Hi said. “But what does it do?”

I was considering that very question when my ears detected a low hiss.

“Move away!” I screamed.

Everyone backpedaled but me. We were out of options.

Gripping the handle, I turned it as far clockwise as it would go.

“You did it!” Jason kicked the base of the device. “The hole closed!”

“But look at the pipes!” Shelton pointed to the tubes exiting the Gamemaster’s box. Dark green vapor was misting into them and trickling upward toward the air ducts.

The sickening truth crashed home.

We faced a devil’s choice.

“The gas is releasing.” My voice was flat. “But we choose where it goes.”

“Choose how?” Shelton asked in hushed voice.

“The handle. Turn it right and the gas will flow into the tubes, hit the AC, and dump into the ballroom. Turn it left, and it will release in here.”

Shelton’s eyes bugged. “In here?”

“The Gamemaster wants his kill one way or another.” Hi understood the ghastly decision we faced. “But now it’s
our
call who dies.”

Ben’s fists clenched in helpless rage. “I’ll kill him.”

“So it’s really us or them?” Shelton was close to panic. “We have to pick?!”

Jason’s eyes met my mine. “We can’t gas all those people. We just can’t.”

I nodded. “Not a chance.”

We still have a card left to play.

The Gamemaster thought he’d covered every angle. Painted us into a corner. Planned for every possibility.

But he didn’t know what I could do.

What the Virals could do.

This time I didn’t hesitate. Using all my strength I heaved left and spun the handle counterclockwise.

Inside the tubes, the green vapor thinned, then vanished entirely.

The hole at the base of the box snapped open.

“Back!” Hi dragged a paralyzed Shelton toward the door. “Come on, Tory! Ben!”

I froze. Watched in horror as a thick stream of green fog flowed from the opening and began pooling on the floor. Heavier than air, the sickly cloud swirled into a low corner before creeping back toward the door.

We had minutes. At most.

Move!

“Into the passageway!” I barked.

The boys needed no urging. I raced through the door behind them and slammed it shut, closing off the ventilation room.

“I need a jacket!” I ordered.

Hi ripped off his velvet monstrosity and shoved it into the crack. The makeshift wedge wouldn’t stop the poison, but it might buy us precious seconds.

I pressed close to the grate. “Chance, we’re out of time. Can you free us?”

Chance was dripping sweat, his suit a dirty mess. Blood dripped from his fingers as he swung a rusty crowbar.

Clang!

He glanced at me with pain-filled eyes. “I’m sorry. The clamps won’t budge. I don’t know what else to try.”

“Look around! Maybe there’s a key.”

“There isn’t. I checked.”

“Search the stairwell. It could be hidden there. Hurry!”

Chance nodded, then stumbled out of sight.

One down.

A noxious odor began fouling the air. Hi and Shelton started coughing.

I saw Ben watching me. He understood my plan, and, judging by his sideways glance, the remainder of the problem.

“Hiram, kill the lights,” Ben said.

“What?” Hi was hacking and spitting. “Why would—”

Ben flicked his eyes to Jason.

Hi started. “But how . . . he’ll still notice . . .”

The ghost of a smile appeared on Ben’s lips. “Have faith.”

Hi nodded, then whispered in Shelton’s ear.

“Yes!” Shelton practically dove for the switch.

“What the hell?” Jason spun to yell at Shelton. “We need the light! We have to call for—”

Whack!

Ben’s elbow connected with Jason’s temple.

I caught Jason as he dropped.

“
That
was your plan?” Hi screeched. “Knock him unconscious?”

“It worked,” said Ben.

“Little help!” I grunted.

The boys grabbed Jason and lowered him to the floor.

There were no more prying eyes.

Throat burning. Eyes stinging. Light-headed. Black patches floating across my vision. I peered as far as I could into the electrical room. Chance was nowhere in sight.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” Three voices as one.

I gripped the bottom of the barrier with both hands.

Hi stepped to my right. Ben and Shelton lined up on my left.

My lids slid shut.

SNAP.

The flare burned like a thousand suns, electrifying my senses.

My nose magnified the caustic stench, nearly overwhelming me. My eyeballs cut through the gloom. My ears amplified the hiss of poison gas leaking around Hi’s jacket.

Ignoring the sensory bombardment, I sought something else.

Reached deep within. Tapped the
power
of the wolf.

The pack followed where I led. Glowing cords scorched across our minds, smoldering with superhuman force.

I fired a single command into their minds.

NOW.

As one, we strained. The gate refused to yield.

Muscles cording, I poured everything into the effort. Could feel the boys doing the same. The barrier quivered, but remained locked in place.

The noxious reek grew stronger, causing me to gag. I felt despair infest the other Virals’ minds. Linked as we were, their stray thoughts struck me like shards of glass.

. . . going to fail . . .

. . . don't want to die in here . . .

We can't . . .

We lost . . .

. . . all my fault . . .

NO!

Pushing my own terror aside, I embraced what lurked beneath.

Boiling. Snarling. Storming. All consuming.

Rage.

I would
not
let the Gamemaster kill us.

This would
not
be the end.

Neurons fired. Scalding heat infused my extremities.

I forced the energy outward, down the fiery links connecting my pack.

The boys screamed.

It took several seconds to realize that I was screaming, too.

Naked power surged into my chest. My muscles. My whole being.

Far too much. I had to free it. Had to drive the energy
away.

AGAIN.

We pulled as one.

The grate shuddered. Rose an inch. Stuck fast.

No! I WILL NOT LOSE!

I focused. Pushed more and more energy down the flaming cords.

Something popped. My arms ripped upward.

I heard the screech of twisting metal.

My eyes opened. I stared in shock.

The bottom third of the grate was bent inward, its steel bars twisted like overstretched Play-Doh. The track had ripped free of the wall.

“Go! Go! Go!” I shouted.

Shelton and Hi crawled under the grate, then reached back and grabbed Jason’s arms. With Ben and me pushing, we forced his unconscious body beneath the barrier. Then Ben and I scrambled to freedom.

Lurching to our feet, we dragged Jason across the electrical room. Once safely beyond the toxic odor, we collapsed, gasping for breath.

I looked up as Chance emerged from the direction of the stairwell. He stiffened, staring at the mangled grate, naked shock on his face.

I shut my eyes and sent a message to the other Virals:
Snuff your flares!

SNAP.

The connection broke. Strength drained from my limbs.

“I’ll sound the alarm.” Chance turned to run.

“No.”

All eyes whipped to me.

I coughed and spat, trying to clear my throat. “The Consequences, remember? We can’t tell anyone.”

“What consequences?” Chance demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“The bastard who did this threatened to hurt our families if we talk.” My voice was a dull rasp. “
Ever.
I don’t think he was bluffing.”

“But we have to warn people!” Shelton aimed a finger toward the ventilation room. “The gas could escape the basement.”

I shook my head. “Bromomethane is heavier than air. It won’t rise.”

“You all need medical treatment.” Chance knelt beside his former lacrosse teammate. “Jason’s
unconscious,
for God’s sake! The poison might be killing him.”

“That wasn’t the gas.” Ben avoided Chance’s eye. “He . . . tripped. Hard.”

“Help me up.” I was still woozy from the loss of my flare. “I have a plan.”

Chance gave me an odd look, but extended a hand.

I stumbled toward the stairs. “Follow.”

The boys trailed me up the steps, Chance and Ben lugging Jason’s dead weight. On the landing beside the lobby door, I spotted my target. Without hesitating, I pulled the fire alarm.

Sirens screamed. Blue lights flickered inside the emergency stairwell.

“This will get them outside,” I shouted. “A fire scare should give us some cover for how we look. But no one says a word about what happened down there.”

“That’s crazy!” Shelton wailed. “We should call the police right now!”

“
We’re
gonna catch the psycho who did this.” The words gave me strength. “The Gamemaster is still loose. Probably thinks we’re dead. I bet he’s celebrating his victory right now. Let’s show him he chose the wrong pawns for his amusement.”

That said, I bent over and vomited on the concrete.

Out in the lobby, feet began pounding down the grand staircase. The foyer soon filled with nervous guests hurrying for the front door.

I tried to smooth my rumpled gown. Gave up. I was reasonably sure we’d have to pay for it. Whitney was going to flip out. The thought made me feel a little better.

The boys looked equally bad. Lost jackets. Ripped pants. Stained cuffs. Everything drenched in panic-sweat. I hoped it was dark outside.

“Now.” Clasping my hands in front of me. “Let’s close this nightmare, shall we? Don’t forget—I have gifts for all my escorts.”

Hi and Shelton chortled. Ben snorted as he helped Jason to his feet.

“Wha?” Jason asked groggily.

“Take it easy, tiger.” Ben patted Jason’s back. “You ran into a pole.”

Chance never smiled. Never took his eyes off me.

I remembered his expression upon seeing the twisted metal. The shattered grate he’d pounded with a crowbar without success.

Later.

Hi cracked the door. “Ladies first.”

“Why, thank you, sir.”

For the hell of it, I dropped into another formal curtsy.

The boys snickered. Then, straightening their soiled garments as best they could, they gave me a polite round of applause.

“Off we go then.” I winked. “There’s still cake and dancing on the program.”

Joining the stream of anxious partygoers, we slipped out into the night.

PART FOUR:

CONFRONTATION

CHAPTER 48

“H
ow do you get into these messes?”

Jason’s words jarred me back to full wakefulness. There’d been a lull in conversation, and Chance’s overstuffed chair was far too comfortable for my level of fatigue.

“You heard the story,” Shelton grumbled. “It’s not
our
fault some wackjob likes playing insane games.”

“We won.” Ben’s eyes didn’t open. “No one got hurt. That’s all that matters.”

“I assume there’s no antique cash register in need of special oil?” Jason said.

No one bothered to answer.

Eleven forty-five p.m. Claybourne Manor. The six of us were gathered in Chance’s study, ignoring the revelry one floor below.

My tired eyes wandered the room. I had bad memories of this place.

Little had changed since the days Hollis Claybourne ruled the cavernous chamber. Floor-to-ceiling windows and bookcases. Scarlet drapes. Mahogany desk the size of a tank.

My gaze tracked the wrought-iron catwalk circling high overhead. I thought of the day Chance had caught me up there. Our confrontation.

Definitely
bad
memories.

Not now. Focus.

Cedar logs crackled, the orange and yellow flames casting long shadows across the chamber. Shelton, Ben, and I sat facing the huge stone fireplace. Chance was leaning back against his desk. Jason was slumped on the floor, back to the coffee table, an ice pack strapped to his head. Hi lay flat on his back on the Persian rug.

I’d briefed Jason and Chance on the events of the last two weeks. Our find on Loggerhead. The string of caches. The Game. Our wild trips around the Lowcountry. The Gamemaster’s folder of threats. I withheld only the secrets we could never share.

An avalanche of questions followed. I’d answered as best I could.

“So we aren’t calling the cops?” Shelton removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Am I the only one who thinks that
they’re
supposed to handle murders and bomb threats?”

“We can’t risk it,” I said firmly. “The Gamemaster might believe his rules still apply.”

“Captain Psychopath knows about our parents, our homes, even Tory’s dog.” Hi’s fingers were interlaced on his chest, his eyes glued to the oak rafters stretching above us. “If we talk, who knows what he’ll do? The guy’s into
clowns,
for God’s sake.”

I took a deep breath. “We can catch this chump ourselves.”

“How are we going to do that?” Shelton squawked.

“I’ll think of something.”
I will.

“You’re positive the gas won’t escape?” Jason asked for the third time.

“Yes,” I said. “I double-checked on my phone. Bromomethane is heavier than air, and should simply pool in the electrical room. And if someone goes down to the basement, they’ll smell the fumes and book it out of there. A slight delay in reporting the danger shouldn’t pose a risk.”

I hoped.

The Gamemaster belonged to me now. I wanted blood.

A wave of music and laughter carried from below. Everyone ignored it. There was a crash of breaking glass. Chance didn’t flinch.

Two hours earlier, my impromptu fire drill had caused a mild panic. Flustered debs stumbling across the grass in ankle-breaking heels. Escorts struggling to locate their dates. Parents and siblings searching for one another. Chance had slipped away to find Madison, leaving the rest of us mercifully alone. Shelton had pulled a bleary Jason aside and brought him up to speed.

Whitney went apoplectic upon seeing me. Mussed hair. Stained gown. Jacketless entourage. Kit demanded an explanation.

Thank God for Hiram.

He launched into an improvised tale of woe and misfortune. We’d found ourselves in the dark. Flustered and disoriented, we’d blundered through an emergency exit. Then we’d tumbled down a staircase in a complicated domino sequence that incorporated each one of us.

The story was bizarre, confusing, and wildly improbable.

They’d bought it without hesitation.

Working like a field surgeon, Whitney had blotted and fluffed my dress, then repaired my makeup using cosmetics from her purse. When I’d casually asked permission to attend Chance’s after party, Kit had been quick to agree.

After the fire marshal declared a false alarm, everyone scurried back inside. The remaining debs were presented in full splendor, averting heart attacks and dousing a few temper tantrums.

Dancing followed. I endured three formal numbers—Kit twice, then an awkward turn with Jason—solely for appearances’ sake. The rest of my crew sat in chairs along the wall. I kept one eye on Chance as he twirled Madison across the hardwood.

Finally, mercifully, the ball ended. I handed my boys their monogrammed cuff links and Kit drove us to Claybourne Manor. Chance’s bash was supposed to run late—he’d even chartered a car service to take guests home.

Kit told me to enjoy myself. He’d inform the other parents.

Chance had demanded answers as soon as we arrived. He marched my group upstairs, leaving a butler to see to his guests.

So there we were, an hour later.

A wild celebration raged downstairs. Half the school was in attendance.

Partying was the furthest thing from our minds.

Chance stirred. “How did you destroy the grate?”

“Adrenaline.” Hi sat up. Flexed. “The human body is capable of amazing things.”

“There were four of us.” Shelton was inspecting his shoes. “That probably made the difference.”

“Four.” Jason’s gaze shifted to Ben. “Because
I
was unconscious. Having run into a pole. Which I don’t remember.”

Ben shrugged. “Not my fault you’re clumsy.”

Jason turned dubious eyes to me. “That’s how it happened, Tor?”

“Yes,” I lied. “You were doubled over coughing up a lung and lost your bearings. The passage was narrow and dim. Too many people, too much chaos.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Jason tested his jaw by easing it left, then right. Then his mouth formed a lopsided grin. “That’s the second function where I’ve gotten knocked silly. You’re dangerous to my brain, Miss Brennan.”

Chance crossed to the hearth, crouched, and began stoking the fire. He spoke without turning.

“I pounded those clamps with a crowbar for a good ten minutes. Each was solid iron, and bigger than a fist. I didn’t make a dent.”

Chance rose and turned to face us. “Yet you four ripped the grate from its tracks. Then you ripped the
tracks from the wall,
bending the metal bars like they were drinking straws. How? How is that possible?”

“I read once where this guy in Ulan Bator powerlifted a Chinese tank after—”

“Can it, Stolowitski. Let Tory explain.”

I sat up straight. Kept my voice steady. “What more is there to say?”

“So that’s your story? A massive surge of adrenaline? Hormones to the rescue?”

“What else could it be?”

Chance pointed without looking, eyes on me. “And poor Jason
ran into a pole,
conveniently missing this dramatic feat?”

I nodded. Met him stare for stare.

“Nor was
I
there,” Chance went on. “Because you suggested I search the stairwell for a key. That seemed unlikely at the time, but I was exhausted and out of ideas. Thankfully,
you
had the presence of mind to send me . . . off.”

“What’s your point?” Jason was unwinding his ice pack. “We escaped. Be happy.”

“My point, Jason, is that this story is a pack of lies.” Chance’s face went hard. “A new entry in a long list of deceptions. And not a very good one.”

“Watch it,” Ben warned from the chair beside mine. “I don’t like your tone.”

Chance ignored him, focused entirely on me. “I want the truth, Tory. The
real
story. An explanation of what we both know has been going on for months.”

“It happened like I said.” Holding his gaze. “Jason hit a post. The rest of us worked together and managed to knock out the gate. Believe me, or don’t believe me, but you won’t get a different version. From anyone.”

Our eyes remained locked for what seemed an eternity.

Then his smirk returned.

“So be it.”

Chance spun and walked out the door.