Page 24 of Mercy & Malice

Speaking of, I can’t find him, and it’s making me very uneasy. As I approach a corridor, I notice what looks like a person lying on the floor. But as I step closer, my scream echoes through the building as I recognize Remy’s blood-covered body.

I don’t know what to do. Before I decide, I hear footsteps behind me.

Ivy and Luca approach as I scream at Luca, “Did you do it?”

“Wasn’t me. Where’s your partner?” Luca has the same concern in mind as me. There’s no way Micah would just murder Remy for a game, right?

Seconds later, Remy opens his eyes, his arms darting in the air as he hollers, “Boo.”

A scream escapes me as I smack the bozo on his big stupid head. “Are you fucking serious, Remy? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You hit me in my damn eye,” he complains, rubbing his face.

I slap his arm, still fuming and trying to calm down. This isn’t a freaking joke. And he’s acting like it is. “You’re lucky that’s all I did. You scared the shit out of me. What the hell did you do? Get blood from somewhere in the hospital?”

“No, I brought some fake blood. I knew it’d come in handy with one of these challenges.” There’s a small bottle in his hand as he grins.

I’m about to tell him what a dumbass he is when Luca asks, “Where’s Micah?”

“Present,” Micah answers as he walks over. “And now where’s the rest of the class?”

Remy cleans the blood off his face as he casually answers, “Garrett went to get the food.”

“Food?” I ask, praying they aren’t trying to raid the cafeteria or something crazy. There’s definitely rats in there if anything edible remains.

“Yeah. I ordered DoorDash,” Remy responds.

I can’t even. I shake my head, trying to understand how ordering takeout was his first thought. Well, that and playing dead. “There is something seriously wrong with you.”

Ivy backs me up. “Agreed.”

Trying to reason with Remy is impossible, but I take a crack at it anyway. “Do you know how many germs and bugs are probably in this building? Not to mention rats, snakes, vermin, and God knows what else, so why not draw them all to you with a snack so you can become the snack.”

Remy jabs his finger into my side. “I’d bet that my carcass would be the best grub they’ve ever had.”

“You’re disgusting.” I push his hand away and twist the wrong way. The marks have faded but my lower back is still really tender. Ivy had seen the bruise but thankfully didn’t push for an explanation of what happened. She was a cheerleader at her previous school and knows bumps and bruises come along with the sport, so my excuse that I fell will only get me so far. I didn’t realize how hard I hit the entertainment center until the next morning. I wish I’d prepared a better cover story or that I had a father who wouldn’t shove me into furniture for my books being in the way of the sensor for the television. God forbid the TV remote doesn’t work properly on the first try.

When I move beside Micah, he’s concentrated on Luca and Ivy as they walk away. “Please don’t. Let’s just get through this challenge without causing more issues.”

His glare never leaves the direction they went in. “The object is to win, not survive.”

“Micah—” I was ready to beg, but he’s gone before I have the opportunity.

Remy lightly taps his knuckles against my shoulder. “Come on, Brookie. I’ll protect you and even share my food.”

“Yeah. Thanks, but I’ll pass. Don’t pull any more stunts tonight. This place is creepy enough.” I set off in the direction that Micah had headed. There’s no stopping him if he’s determined to torment his brother, but I can at least attempt to contain the madness.

“No promises,” Remy hollers.

“No surprise,” I mutter, shining my phone flashlight around.

The corridor comes to a four-way split, and there’re what appears to be fresh shoe prints going in two directions. Guessing, I take the path to the left. Slowly creeping along, I glance in the first few rooms, then decide I don’t want to see what’s in the others anymore.

“Micah,” I whisper-yell, staring straight ahead.

Suddenly, my head is tugged backwards by my ponytail. Dropping my phone, I struggle against the grip that has a hold of my hair. The more I fight, the tighter it becomes, and my panic rises as I shriek, “Let me go,”

It’s so dark, I can barely see the person in front of me. But I see my father so clearly that I scream. The hold on my hair releases, and soft hands cup my face.