Adi and Sierra looked from the tapestry to the cipher. “A bunch of grapes,” said Adi. “Of course.”
The lock clicked and Carter threw open the glass doors. She pulled out the first goblet. “This one is labeled ‘O-negative’!”
“On it,” said Beck, snatching up the guest list again while the others carried the goblets to the table, matching them to the bejeweled nameplates. As soon as the last goblet was set into place, the box in the center of the table popped open.
“The key!” they shouted in unison. Sierra grabbed it first and ran for the device holding the gate’s pulley. She twisted it into the keyhole and yanked off the padlock. Adi grabbed the crank and began to turn. The iron gate rose upward.
Sierra and Carter both ducked beneath the gate when it was barely more than a couple of feet off the ground. Adi stopped cranking and dived after them. Beck was right behind him, until he remembered Sierra’s phone still sitting on the table. He turned to run back for it, grabbed the phone off the table—and heard a noise that made his blood run cold.
A keypad beeping.
He froze.
The door swung open. Fitzy stood there, his face twisted with frustration, still clutching the gun. Blood had soaked through his shirt over his shoulder.
Beside him, Symphony had her arms crossed, drumming her fingers against her forearms. “These puzzles,” she said, “are a pain in the ass.” She looked at Fitzy. “Don’t just stand there. Do something!”
He raised the gun.
Beck ran. There was a shot as he slid beneath the gate like a baseball player coming into home base. He barely registered the others screaming, or that Adi had the sword extended through the gate, swinging hard for the rope. But the blade was too dull. Adi let out a roar as he swung, cut, sawed—while Fitzy and Symphony rushed toward them.
The rope frayed. One strand. Two—
The weight of the iron bars snapped the final strand. The gate plummeted to the ground, separating them from the castle room.
Symphony reached through the gate, clawing at Adi. He jumped back, plastering himself against the stone wall.
“Oh, comehere, Adi. Why must you always make everything so difficult?”
Fitzy stuck the gun through the bars and fired again—once, twice—but must have realized his aim was too limited from this angle and stopped firing, leaving Adi to sink down against the wall, shaking.
Holy hell. Symphony was really going to stand there and watch Fitzy kill her own child.
Fitzy refocused on Beck as he scrambled across the spongy ground. Beck dived behind the nearest gravestone as the gun fired again. The bullet pinged off the marble, sending bits of stone and dust flying over Beck’s shoulder. He covered his head and curled into a tight ball, pressing against the stone.
Then— Click. Click.
Fitzy swore loudly, the sound salty and metallic in Beck’s mouth. “It’s out of ammo!”
“You’d better have more, Fitzgerald.”
“Beck,” whispered Sierra.
He peeked over his knees. Sierra and Carter were crouched beside the wall of the mausoleum, staring at him with horrified eyes.
“You’re hurt,” Sierra said.
He stared at her, not comprehending. He wasn’t hurt. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might do permanent damage to his rib cage, but he wasn’thurt.
Then he noticed the wetness on his skin. He looked down. Saw the deep crimson spreading across the side of his shirt. Realized that it wasn’t Fitzy’s voice making him taste blood.
Which was so . . . soweird. He knew about people going into shock. But still . . . shouldn’t he have felt something?
The iron gate clanked as Symphony rattled it.
“Mom, what the hell?” Adi cried. “Why are you doing this?”
“You wouldn’t understand, you selfish brat,” Symphony snapped.
