Sierra
They were trapped. Nowhere to go. Vera was in desperate needof medical attention, and—
“Beck!”
Carter rushed to hold Beck as he sank to the floor. His face was pastier than normal, beads of sweat forming on his skin. Carter helped prop him against the wall. His weak smile turned into a grimace. “It’s starting to hurt, actually.”
Sierra looked to Adi, the hopelessness of their situation overwhelming. “Did you just kill Fitzy?”
“I don’t know. The sword is pretty dull, but he was bleeding a lot.” His grip tightened on the handle. “We can still finish the game. Get to safety.”
It was his determination that pulled her back. They had a goal. Beck being hurt didn’t change that. As long as Symphony and Fitzy were stuck behind the iron gate, they had a chance.
“Put pressure on Beck’s wound,” she said to Carter.
“Oh. Right. I knew that. Sorry.” Carter looked almost as pale as Beck as she pulled off her Mathletes sweatshirt, revealing a camisole underneath.
“We’ve got time,” said Sierra. “I bet that gate weighs a ton.”
“My mom can be freakishly strong when she wants to be,” Adi said. “All those protein shakes, I guess.” Then his face crumpled. “I had no idea. I didn’t . . . I still can’t believe . . .” He slid to the ground, dropping the sword. “In some ways, this doesn’t feel real. And in other ways, it kind of makes some bizarre sense. Like, maybe I should have figured it out?”
“How could you possibly have figured it out?” Carter asked, pressing her sweatshirt to Beck’s wound.
“The gloves. The killer wore gloves, right? My mom’s always wearing driving gloves. Paranoia about UV rays and age spots.”
“It’s . . . true,” Beck stammered softly. “UV rays can kill you.” He snickered softly, before adding, “Sorry. That’s not funny at all. I don’t know why I’m laughing.”
Adi covered his eyes. “And her obsession with getting back in the business. Trying to convince Ranielle to give her the host job. I should have suspected something.”
“Come on, Adi,” said Sierra. “Be fair to yourself. It isn’t like you saw a bloody comforter lying around your house, or a phone with a sparkly dolphin case or something.”
Adi went still. After a beat, he took his hands away and gave her an incredulous look. “Sparklydolphincase?” He groaned. “Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“You’re kidding,” said Sierra.
“You never told us what her phone looked like! And Symphony has a whole pile of phones— She’s totally materialistic, hoards all this stuff—”
Sierra started to pace. “Fine. It doesn’t matter. We need to focus.”
She took stock of the room. A large marble coffin leaned against one wall, Dracula’s crest engraved on the lid. Another four-digit alphabet lock kept it shut. Each of the walls had a Renaissance-style painting. She tapped the coffin. “We’re going to have to slay Dracula.”
“We don’t have the wooden stake,” said Carter.
Adi hefted the sword up. “This will have to do.”
Beck pumped an arm into the air and wheezed, “Team Helsing for the win.”
“Stop moving around so much,” Carter said. “I think your binder is slowing the bleeding.”
He dropped his arm. “Awesome.”
Sierra glanced up the steps. “Was anybody counting how many bullets were fired that second round?”
“Five,” Adi said without hesitation. “They’ve got one more.”
Sierra returned her attention to the paintings. “Let’s not give them a chance to use it. Are there letters hidden inside the art?”
Adi pulled himself to his feet and moved closer to a painting of several children playing in a vineyard. Sierra stood back, hoping a shape would reveal itself from a distant perspective.
