I hug him tightly, feeling elated and jazzed to do this shit. “Let’s go now.”
“Let me put a shirt and shoes on.” Purge shrugs on a black tee and sneakers. “Follow me and be quiet.”
We line up behind Purge and follow him to the garage. He bypasses the code, allowing us entry. He glances around, then leads us to a common-looking black car with tinted windows.
“This is good. We won’t stand out and will blend in with the darkness,” Purge explains.
I nod and he opens the car door, leaning in to reach underneath the dashboard. He fiddles with some wires, and the car comes to life. It seems to have a quiet engine, thankfully.
We climb in, and head for the gate. Purge finds a remote attached to the visor, same as when Trikk took a car form here. It lifts, letting us out into the chilly November night.
He floors it, getting us away fast.
“I know where they live—I can get us there,” Purge says with a grin.
During the ride, Sam hugs me into his side reassuringly. My heart pounds in anticipation. Purge slides his hand on my thigh. It's both arousing and comforting to be between them.
Purge gets to a neighborhood marked with streetlights. He begins to slow, and I perk up in my seat. “I know this area. It's close. Their house is cut off from others, set back more, though.”
“I know, sweet Iskra.” Purge smiles at me briefly.
He goes a few blocks, moving farther away from the neighborhood. We drive about another mile or so, and thestreetlights disappear. He turns right, following a narrow dirt road another couple of miles until we see a long driveaway. Purge cuts the lights, gliding to a stop several feet from the driveway.
“We walk from here. Stick together, and to the shadows when possible.” Purge looks at Sam and I, and we both nod.
Instead of heading straight up the drive, we walk to the left of it, where more shadows lurk. We shuffle forward, and I finally see the towering house emerge through the blackness.
I make a tiny sound in my throat. Sam cuts his gaze to me, and I nod—it’s the right place.
We get to the front of the house, and Purge motions us to follow him around to the back. I'm confident he knows what he’s doing. If anyone knows the layout of this place, it’s Purge.
There’s a sliding door in the back, but he bypasses it, electing to walk a bit farther to a small door I had no idea existed. It's old, with a simple knob and lock.
Purge palms his tools, getting the door unlocked flawlessly with a soft click.
I grip my knife hidden under my black hoodie. I see Sam’s hand under his hoodie doing the same thing.
My mouth dries up as Purge turns the knob, and we tiptoe inside.
I can’t help trembling when I’m standing inside the Hell House, memories rushing through my chaotic mind. I take a couple of deep breaths to ground myself.
Purge makes the “come on” gesture, and we stay close behind him.
My hands sweat when we sneak through the kitchen, to a side of the house I’ve never seen. Looming dead ahead is a winding staircase.
We ascend, stopping at the very top. There's an endless-looking hallway with doors on each side.
I tap on Purge’s shoulder, and he turns to me.
I mouth, “Which one is their room?”
Purge points to the end of the hallway, gesturing to the left side.
We creep to the last door on the left.
Purge oh-so-slowly turns the knob and slips in first, closely followed by me and Sam.
There's a huge four-poster bed in the center of the room, where both Betty and Matthew are fast asleep.
