“That’s Sierra-speak for Yes, we’re doing okay; thanks for asking,” said Beck.
Sierra scowled. “Is not.”
Lisa gave a wan smile, then waved. “Okay, well, good luck on today’s round.”
Carter shut the door behind her as Adi inspected the printed sticker on the package. “It’s addressed to all of us.Team Helsing. Villa#1.Too narrow to be a horse head, at least.”
“Horse head?” said Carter.
“The Godfather? Mario Puzo?”
She stared blankly.
“Never mind.”
Adi tore off the paper, and Sierra’s gut lurched.
Maybe not such a terrible joke after all.
It was a painting. It was one ofherpaintings. Or at least, a print of one of her paintings, neatly framed and matted.Dance Macabre.
But someone had ruined it.
Her artwork had shown a woman in a black gown waltzing with a hollow-eyed skeleton, while two more skeletons danced across a mirror-image background of roses and thorns. Someone had taken a picture of Sierra’s face and glued it over the woman’s. The skulls of the three dancers had been replaced with photos of Beck, Carter, and Adi.
Red paint marred them all.Xs over their eyes. Slashes across their throats.
And written along the bottom in sharp, dripping capitals—
GIVE UP, HELSING
OR YOU’RE NEXT
34
Adi
Adi had offered to stay. He hadwantedto stay. He certainly didn’twant to be sitting here, listening to Ranielle Russell clack away at her laptop, acting as if he didn’t exist. He was used to being ignored, but really. She was the one who had dragged him to the studio first thing on a Monday morning, when he could have been back at the villa, figuring out who had sent that vandalized print.
Sierra had logged on to her online store to look up her recent orders. The prints were fulfilled by a third-party printer so she didn’t need to be hands-on with shipping and fulfillment. It had taken her all of three minutes to find the details.
That print had been ordered the day after they’d arrived on the show, and it had been sent directly to the studio’s address. No name, no specific recipient. The package had been signed for by the receptionist.
It could have been anyone.
Looking visibly shaken, Sierra had told Adi to go, that they were fine. Just another prank. Adi suspected she was more upset at seeing her own artwork defaced than the actual message.
But . . . maybe not. The scrawl bore a striking resemblance to what had been in her sister’s coffin.
WE GET WHAT WE DESERVE
What sort of sick asshole . . .
He shuddered every time he thought about it. And when he remembered Sierra’s attempts to hide her emotions, and Beck looking so aghast that there were creeps in the world who would do this to fellow humans, and Carter—
Carter, who had broken their horrified silence by saying, of all things, “What a stunning use of planar symmetry in this background, Sierra.”
It made Adi want to laugh.
