My fingers close around the cool stone. “You seemed to know an awful lot about Death’s Teeth though.”
“Casualty of growing up in Fury Hill.” She sighs, pushing her hair back. “You don’t get through kindergarten without hearing tales of the masked shadows in the Primordial Forest. Then, with everything that happened last semester and the way it wasswept under the rug… I guess I got curious. Started reading up about it.”
I glance at the front of the stage, where Sutton is marking places for the cast to stand during different scenes.
“The man who dragged us to that cavern… Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Really?” She glances at me, squinting. “He seemed to be familiar with you.”
My gaze falls to my backpack again. I shake my head. “Probably just another curse nut. Who knows?”
“Stranger things have definitely happened. I’m just glad he let us go after. I’ve read some pretty fucked-up stuff that can go on at those ceremonies.”
She doesn’t mention that we were offerings or my own volunteer stunt, so I have to wonder how much she actually remembers. I’m about to ask for more information when Sutton cuts in from up front.
“Desdemona, we’re ready for you again.”
She exhales. “You should’ve been the leading lady.”
“Nah.” I give her a small smile. “Bianca suits me just fine. You deserve the spotlight—you’ve been practically begging the professor for it the whole semester.”
Something flashes in her eyes, and she purses her lips, considering. “You know, I never really want?—”
“Desdemona.” Sutton’s voice is louder, firmer, and I hate that the authority of it makes my thighs clench.
As she gets up and passes through the curtains again, I follow suit, hanging on to the fabric and watching the scene from behind. The auditorium is hushed and darkened, shrouded in an array of shadows as the spotlights focus on the cast members.
Sabrina crosses the stage, heading to the makeshift bed to simulate Desdemona’s death. Everyone’s enraptured by herelegance as she approaches, aware that she’s about to be pretend-smothered by a classmate again.
She takes a detour as a couple of set designers work in the center to resituate the scene, all while our Othello continues his monologue, moving as if just entering Desdemona’s bedroom to accuse her of infidelity.
“‘Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light.’”
Before he finishes the last line, the spotlights angled toward the stage go out, encasing us in total darkness. At the same time, a scream and subsequent crash echo through the auditorium, the fear reverberating off my skull.
“What the hell?” I hear Sutton say. He swears under his breath when the lights don’t come back on, and panic murmurs through us as we listen to his footsteps rush toward the emergency switch on the wall.
Seconds later, the floodlights illuminate the room in a faint glow, and relief passes over us in a wave.
Until someone screams again. One of the set designers leans into the pit, a horrified look frozen on their face.
“Professor, come quick! Sabrina’s hurt!”
Everyone rushes over to where they’re at, looking into the secluded area. Sabrina’s somehow flat on her back, staring up at the rafters with wide, unseeing eyes.
Blood pools beneath her head, soaking her hair.
Nausea rolls through me, a cyclone of terror.
“Oh my God!” someone cries, and the room begins to descend into madness.
Percy climbs into the pit, breathing hard, and reaches for her.
“No, wait!” I say, forcing myself to stop him. “You can’t move a head injury. Someone needs to call the paramedics and campus police.”
“Sabrina, can you speak? Or hear us at all?” Sutton asks.
