This message remained for only a few seconds before it disappeared, and a timer of three hours and ten minutes appeared.

  “What does that mean?” Dion asked.

  “It means we have three hours and ten minutes to get our shit together,” Mel replied, turning towards the kitchen.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” Grace announced, heading in the opposite direction, still carrying her prized machete.

  Our tagalong sat down on the couch, leaving me and Dion the only two left standing around.

  “Are we safe?” he asked.

  I choked on a laugh. “We’re never safe, D. You might as well take a minute for yourself, though.”

  He nodded wordlessly and went to join Mel in the kitchen. I placed my hands on my hips and surveyed the apartment again. There was a door off the living area no one seemed too interested in.

  I walked towards it, casting a glance at the guy who had managed to join our group. No one seemed interested in knowing his name. He had his head back and eyes closed, taking full advantage of this intermission.

  I was only a little curious about him. I had the usual questions someone would have. How long had he been here and what was he doing at the Sanitorium? He and his short-lived companion had known exactly how to exit the building. I wasn’t going to waste my time asking him anything, though. Questions led to more questions that always came with virtually no answers.

  I entered the sole bedroom of the apartment, taking a second to take in the décor. It was all jewel tones, giving off a feel of masculinity. A king-sized bed with matching end tables and lamps, an armor, and a large dresser were all inside. The lengths that had been gone to for this place would never cease to amaze me.

  I could guarantee every unit in this building was furnished as if someone was actually going to be living here. Seeing the bathroom solidified my theory. It too was well stocked and decorated to match the overlying theme. I nudged the door shut with my boot, leaving a bloodied mark on the pristinely white wood.

  As I turned, it was impossible to avoid the mirror above the double sinks. Obviously, I knew I wouldn’t be looking the best, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t caught off guard at what I saw. It was the sordid truth staring back at me, that really made everything sink in.

  I had scratches and bruises marring my skin, not allowing me to forget anything from the past twenty-four hours. Blood and grime covered my face.

  My hands.

  My clothes.

  I twisted the knob on the back of the sink, not stopping until the water was as hot as it could be. I pumped some soap onto my hands and began to scrub at my skin, focusing on the scratches, paying little mind to the burning sensation. The porcelain basin became tainted a dull red and faint brown, swirling in a mix of berry scented suds down the drain.

  As my normally tanned skin reddened, something prickled at the back of my mind. I had this growing sensation, telling me I needed to remember what I’d somehow forgotten. But how did I do that when I had no idea what it was to begin with? I was convinced by now this memory had been hidden by my conscious and none of this started until I got to Goetia.

  I splashed more water on my face, rubbing in a circular pattern to remove some of the filth.

  Keeping my eyes closed, I reached for the plush hand towel hanging on a hook and used it to dry off. When I saw the mirror again, I stiffened.

  What is it you fear most?

  I used the towel to swipe at the condensation, but the message remained. I swallowed and looked around the room. Were there cameras in here too? Seriously?

  How fitting to put it on the mirror when the person in the glass was what I feared more than anything else. Whoever was responsible for this deserved a shit ton of accolades. Whatever their real goal was, who knows, but they’d successfully turned me back into someone I had been running from.

  They made a demon out of me.

  A fucking Freakshow.

  I tossed the towel down and took a seat on the lid of the toilet, bracing my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed before the vibrations started. At first, I thought I’d officially lost my damn mind. But the vibrating was consistent. Once it stopped, it started right back up again.

  I looked around the room trying to determine where it was coming from before realizing it had to be inside the toilet’s tank. I twisted and lifted the solid lid and placed it on the floor. The second it was removed the vibrating became louder—clearer.

  There was a ziplocked bag floating in the water. I removed the baggie and opened it up, taking out the phone that had been placed inside. It was rather simplistic. One of those disposables that people used in movies or to commit crimes. The number calling was unknown. Nothing shocking about that. Against my better judgement, I answered the call.

  “Who is this?” I greeted, wasting no time on pleasantries.

  “Your social skills are severely lacking.”

  I immediately pulled the phone away from my ear to disconnect the call.

  “If you hang up, she’s dead.”

  I didn’t know if she was Morrigan or Selena, but it was probably better not to risk it.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Just you,” he replied casually.

  “Ciaran,” I ground out, clenching the phone so tightly the plastic popped. “Guess I didn’t stab you hard enough.”

  He laughed lowly, and the sound of something being zipped carried across the line. “Don’t be so melodramatic, puppet. You need me just as much as I need you.”

  “I don’t need--.”

  “I left a gift inside the shower. You’re in the only room with nothing on the inside. Keep it that way and don’t take anything out.”

  What?

  “What does that even mean?”

  “You’re smart, baby-girl. Figure it out. When you’re done don’t try to make a path, just watch for the fireworks and I’ll see you at the carnival.”

  “I’m not—motherfucker!” I growled, hearing the tell-tale beeps that signaled the call was ended. I stared at the phone for a minute and then looked around. Only room with nothing on the inside. Did that mean there wasn’t cameras in here?

  “Lana?” Mel called through the door, bringing me out of my stupor.

  I placed the phone face down on the toilet and jumped up.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as soon as I opened the door.

  “Where’s Grace?”

  “Right here,” she answered for herself, wandering into the main bedroom still carrying the machete.

  “Get in here, both of you.” I moved aside and ushered them inside the bathroom, closing the door behind Grace.

  “What’s going on?” Mel questioned, her silver eyes going from the mirror to the phone.

  I relayed everything that had just happened, walking over to the shower as I got to the part where Ciaran mentioned leaving a gift.

  “So, he’s still helping you,” Mel stated.

  “What?” I drew the shower curtain and then turned to face her.

  She stuck her hip out and gave me a quizzical look. “You have realized that he’s been protecting you since this all started, right?”

  “Melantha. He tried to choke me out less than twenty-four hours ago.”

  “And for that I’ll have his balls. But think about it Lana. If Ciaran really wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

  “We all would. Kyrous and his friends got us from point A to B,” Grace backed her up.

  I quirked a brow. “Kyrous?”

  She waved a hand dismissively, “You knew what I meant.”

  I crossed my arms and eyed the two of them. It was hard to flat out deny that what they were saying didn’t make sense, but at the same time I refused to believe Ciaran was on my side.

  “Then what about Charon faking his death? Some leviathan guy nearly slicing my face off? Or the fact that they’re actively pursuing us?”

  “I don’t think that’s what they’re doing,” Grace replied flippantly.

  “Everything you’re saying has merit, but so does the flip side. We don’t really know what they’re doing or where they fit into all of this do, we?” Mel asked, looking between the two of us.

  I ran a hand through my hair to smooth it down, it’d fallen from its bun a while ago and now hung freely in a tangled mess.

  “What’s in the shower?” Grace queried.

  “A duffel bag.” I turned and knelt, pulling it closer to me so that I could open it up.

  Mel and Grace both watched over my shoulder. In the main compartment there were bottles of water laid out on top of fresh clothes. Protein bars. A hairbrush. And beneath everything another silver frame.

  I lifted it out, careful not to break the glass. This was the same exact picture from the cabin. This version was unaltered—I could see everything.

  Standing alongside me and the girls were Ciaran, Maverick, Kyrous, and Charon.

  “Lana?” Grace prodded. “What is it?”

  She set her machete down and came closer, kneeling beside me.

  I wanted to reply but I didn’t know how to begin explaining this. My hands became clammy the longer I stared.

  My sister was pictured with us too. A guy that looked suspiciously like Ciaran had his arm draped around her shoulders. Adding even more strangeness to an already odd photo, I could now see that Selena was positively the redhead. Off to the far right, nearly out of the frame altogether were Dion and Morrigan—who I had zero recollection of. I didn’t recognize anyone else, though. They were just nameless strangers.

  “What the hell is that?” Mel asked from my other side.

  “Did I tell you guys about the photo I found?”

  Once Grace shook her head no, I began to explain what I’d seen the first time I saw this same photograph, continuing to study the unblemished one.

  The building behind us was Troy Sainte’s converted barn. The same Troy Sainte that just attempted to decapitate me and my best friends.

  I knew without a doubt I’d been here before, at least I’d gone to his parties. I couldn’t remember this night, though. What I was doing with Ciaran, or why we were all covered in blood.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I hadn’t planned on falling asleep.

  Mel gently shook me awake and it took me a minute to remember how I wound up on the bed.

  “We only have twenty minutes left,” she said softly.

  I pushed myself into an upright position and nodded so that she knew I understood, reaching for the bottled water I left on the nightstand. My head was absolutely killing me. I thought I was sore before, I felt like absolute shit now. If limbs could rust and squeak mine would be in dire need of some WD-40.

  I swept my hair away from my face and downed the remainder of my lukewarm water.

  “Where’s Grace?” I asked when I was done, wiping my mouth with a forearm.

  “Waiting in the living room.” Mel slid off the bed and held out a hand to help me up, which I gladly accepted.

  “You look better,” she noted.

  “mm.” I rolled my neck to rid it of some kinks, stretching my arms above my head. “I don’t feel it. You look good, though.”

  “It’s all on the outside,” she joked lightly.

  She’d pulled her colorful hair into a high ponytail and swapped out her dirty clothes like I had. The outfits were identical to what we’d already been sporting—minus blood and guts.

  I checked the room over as walked towards the door. There wasn’t much else for us to do or see here.

  I’d put the cell back in the toilet tank and the duffel bag in the shower. The photo was out of its frame and stashed safely in my back pocket. I wanted to keep it with me.

  So far none of us had been able to remember the event that surrounded it aside from the obvious. We’d been at one of Sainte’s parties, and something must have gone down that resulted in so much blood being spilled that it stained our clothes. I couldn’t think of any circumstance beyond Goetia or the Devil’s Playground where that would be possible.

  Back in the main living area, the television had seventeen minutes displayed on the countdown with the seconds ticking away.

  “You okay?” Grace asked the moment she saw me.

  “Yeah. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “You needed to rest,” Dion stated, rising from where he’d been sitting on the couch.

  I had to disagree. Sleeping had only intensified how sore my body was. I rubbed the back of my neck and studied him as discreetly as I could. He and his girlfriend had been in the photograph, but I couldn’t recall meeting either of them before. The same went for Selena.

  Why were Ciaran and his friends the only ones that remembered anything? Whatever had occurred that night tied us all together and at the base of that connection were our families and the truth.

  In the kitchen area, our tagalong was leaning over the breakfast bar, looking deep in contemplation. He hadn’t been in the photo so what purpose was he here for? This guy wasn’t even in our age range. Then again, the original group from the shuttle buss had all been different ages too.

  “He said his names, Chip,” Dion told me.

  “Oh,” was all I could say in response. I didn’t care to know this man’s name.

  Sensing my disinterest, he quickly changed the subject.

  “What’s the plan?” Dion changed the subject drawing my attention back to him.

  “I don’t have a plan. We just need to get to this carnival the television was talking about.”

  “Why do we need to go there? How do you know we need to go there?” he rephrased.

  “They wouldn’t have shown us the commercial for no reason,” I replied, keeping what I knew a secret.

  “Oh, right,” he agreed.

  The timer hit twelve and I made my way towards the apartment’s foyer. I didn’t want to delay any further. The others joined me and together we waited for the door to unlock. Those last few minutes felt more like hours. Unable to see the television, it was the retracting of the window curtain that alerted us our time was depleted.

  A telltale click sounded from the front door, and I cautiously opened it up. Not seeing or hearing anything I stepped out first. Grace and Mel filed out behind me with Dion and tagalong tailing them.

  We had to go back the same way we’d come. As I looked down towards the end of the hall, I belatedly realized that someone was riding the elevator to the second floor.

  Exactly where we were.

  “We need to move,” I stressed, breaking into a run.

  I didn’t need to check and make sure everyone understood the assignment. My group was becoming rapidly adroit at hauling ass first and asking questions later. To the left of the elevator was the door leading to the stairwell. We reached it in a photo finish, pouring through just as the low chime of the elevator went off.

  Two additional problems immediately presented themselves.

  Chip, the last one in, made no attempt to silence the door from slamming shut behind him. It was a dead giveaway of our location for whomever had just arrived on the second floor. Worse, as I peered down the stairs, a masked figure was staring right back up at me. And they weren’t alone. Two others were flanking them, one holding the same bow gun that had just taken a man out hours ago.

  It wasn’t much of a debate for us to know what we had to do next—not get caught.

  “Go!” Dion demanded, ushering us to move our asses.

  At the top of the next landing was the door leading to the third floor. Grace reached it first and proceeded to slam all her weight against it.

  “It’s locked!” she exclaimed pulling and pushing to no avail.

  “Keep moving.” I all but dragged her to the next set of stairs.

  Again, the door on the next level was locked, forcing us to keep going. When we reached the fifth, a visceral sound traveled from the stairwell below, brutally penetrating our sense of sound. I didn’t know what the hell it was. I couldn’t stop to look down with these assholes hot on our ass. We had no choice but to keep going. The only other option was to stand still and let our pursuers catch us.

  Every door that would have let us enter a new floor was locked, barring our entry and forcing us to go to a higher level. There wouldn’t be anything at the top of this building but a roof and a possible death sentence. It was the landing for the eighth floor where the rooftop door was placed.

  A sign that read rooftop lounge at least let us know this wasn’t meant to be some prohibited area of the complex.

  Filing up the next set of stairs in a single file line, I could tell we were approaching the final exit by the change in temperature. The warmth from outside overpowered the coolness within the building. We spilled out the door at the top onto a flat, rectangular shaped rooftop. There was an L shaped pool surrounded by a few cabana chairs and a small bar off to the right.

  Nothing to hold the door shut with.

  “What do we do now?” Dion yelled.

  “Check the sides of the building,” Mel shouted, already running towards the rear of the complex.

  Without having any better ideas, I grabbed Grace and we chased after her. She naturally got there before either of us did.

  “It’s there!” she exclaimed.

  Before I could see for myself what she was talking about she was gone. One second, I was staring at the back of her colorful head and in the next she had disappeared.

  She jumped right over the side of the building, taking my heart plummeting down with her. Something rattled loudly. As we got up close, I looked over the edge of the building and saw Mel standing up from where she’d landed on a fire escape.

  “Jump!” she commanded the second she seen us.

  “Goddamnit,” I muttered.

  There was a laundry list of reasons that this could go terribly wrong. The escape itself wasn’t directly beneath the rim of the building, but a few feet down. If I somehow missed sticking the landing, I would be screwed. We were eight—nine stories high. Nothing but solid asphalt would be waiting to greet me down below.

  All of this went through my head as I was freefalling through the air, stomach feeling as if it were about to rocket out of my ass.