But no. “Rosa!” our fearless leader announces gleefully. “That’s me. Of course I can’t go stand by the windows, since I’ve got a job to do here, but Jill, I’ll be with you just as soon as I finish up. I’m so excited!”
Dutifully, Jill trots over to stand next to the other chosen ones. That leaves six of us standing, Hunger Games-style, waiting for our fate to be pronounced.
Rosa unfolds the next piece of paper. “Catelyn,” she says. “And Jack!”
Crap, crap, and double crap. I watch Ms. I Design My Own Board Games happily cross to the windows, joined by Mr. My Guilty Pleasure Is Mallomars, and feel my heart sink into my toes. Because there’s just four of us left, and the odds are definitely not in my favor.
I bite my lip as she pulls another slip from the jar. “Gia. Very nice. And…let’s see…”
Please say Donovan,I chant to myself.Please, please, please say Donovan.I steal a glimpse at his face, but it’s stony, expressionless.
Rosa sticks her hand back into the jar, digging around on the bottom. With just three slips of paper left, they keep skating away from her fingers. My heart pounds as she finally snags one and pulls it free.Donovan Donovan Donovanechoes like a drumbeat in my head as she unfolds it and holds it up to the light.
“And…Thatcher!” she says.
I am so screwed.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Donovanand I follow Rosa’s bouncing blonde ponytail down a set of stone steps carved into the mountainside. They’re steep, and I pray I won’t lose my balance and go hurtling to my death before I have the chance to investigate possible suspects tonight.
Oh God, what if that’s what the Blood Witches have in mind? What if this is a trap, and they intend to kill us both down here?
But no. My premonition showed me that Donovan would die at our wedding. If he’s going to live long enough for us to tie the knot, then neither of us can meet a terrible fate today.
But…what if I’ve somehow changed the future by making him hate me? If that’s the case, then all bets are off. Maybe inside the so-called escape room, hooded killers are lying in wait. Maybe we’re just marching to our deaths—or his, anyway—like complacent little piggies.
The sun is at its zenith, beating down on us, hotter than it has any right to be for September. I break out in a sweat as worries compete for my attention, popping up and down like lottery balls. The whole way down the stairs, an oblivious Rosa chatters about how this is the most awesome escape room at the retreat center, how we’re about to have an experience we’ll never forget.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Donovan mutters, and I resist the urge to kick him in the shin. I’d do it, if I wasn’t petrified of falling and breaking my neck.
“Rosa,” I say, trying not to sound overly suspicious, “why are there escape rooms here? That’s not a thing retreats normally have, is it?”
“Well no,” Rosa admits, somehow managing to look over her shoulder at me while navigating a particularly tricky step. “But Granville Falls isn’t a typical retreat center. We specialize in adventures and next-level experiences. You should see our ropes course. You never know what you might discover up there!”
“Yeah, like how much I hate heights,” comes from the grumpy data engineer behind me.
Rosa ignores him. “And here we are!” she announces, as we arrive in front of a tiny door cut into the rock face. Digging a key out of her Lululemon belt bag, she unlocks it. The door swings open, sending a welcome breath of cool air wafting outward.
If I’m going to be murdered, I’d rather take my last breath inside an air-conditioned room than here, in Hell’s antechamber. I trail Rosa inside, followed by Donovan, who practically has to fold himself in half to fit.
And then I blink. And blink some more.
The three of us are standing in a huge chamber so elaborate, it would be right at home in Disney World. The central area is neutral: gray slate floor; high, white ceiling; ivory-and-navy-blue chairs clustered around a coffee table. But when I look to the left and the right, it’s a different story. One side of the massive space is dominated by vibrant hues of red, orange, and yellow, with flickering flames that dance in contained fire pits. Their crackle fills the air, along with the aroma of burning wood. On the other side, closer to the door where we entered, is the source of the cool breeze: a full-on reproduction of a winter wonderland. Snowflakes drift from the ceiling, falling on lushevergreens from which icicles drip. The walls are covered in frost, and the floor is a smooth sheet of ice. Beneath the surface, multicolored fish dart.
“Well?” Rosa asks, rubbing her hands together with glee.
I’m scrambling for a reply when Donovan beats me to it. “What,” he mumbles, “the actual, ever-loving fuck.”
“Isn’t it amazing?” Rosa chirps. “We call it Fire and Ice, for obvious reasons. Also known as, Opposites Attract.”
The ice creaks ominously, and Donovan gives an equally ominous rumble. “You did this on purpose,” he accuses Rosa. “That drawing was rigged.”
Her microbladed eyebrows draw down in puzzlement. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean,” he says, emphasizing the word, “that it’s no coincidence that Rune and I were paired up. It’s all part of Ethan’s ridiculous plan to make us get along. Well, we don’t have to get along. We just have to work together. This is total bullshit and a waste of time.”
