Chapter 50 Sierra
Sierra
They were trapped. Nowhere to go. Vera was in desperate need of 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. “Sparkly dolphin case?” 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.
The other paintings showed a naked baby Cupid firing an arrow into the heart of a lady, a hunter aiming a gun at a deer, and a king lounging on a throne.
“I don’t see anything,” Adi said.
From the door at the top of the stairs came a rattling noise.
Sierra tensed.
“Do we think the mausoleum door auto-locked?” Carter said.
Beck murmured something, and Carter leaned closer to hear.
Sierra tugged at the ring in her lip, holding her breath. “Come on, we can do this—”
Carter gasped, pulling away from Beck. “You’re a genius! The grapes. The vineyard. Like the grapes from before.”
“It’s the same picture code as for the curio cabinet,” Adi said. “The grapes were—?”
“A!” Carter cried. “And the stag with the antlers was V.”
Sierra’s heart leaped to her throat. Of course! The hunter was aiming his gun at a stag, not a deer. They were going to do this. They were actually going to get out—
“So we have A and V ?” Adi said, searching the other paintings. “What could the word be? It’s only four letters.”
“‘Vlad’ again?” asked Carter.
Adi dropped his sword to try, but it didn’t work. “Lava?” he suggested. “No, there’s only one grape painting.”
“There was a heart in the code.” Sierra pointed to the painting of the Cupid. “What letter did it represent?”
Adi shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
Beck and Carter stared at Sierra, wide-eyed.
She turned desperately to the other picture. “The king—a crown? There was a crown somewhere near the start of the alphabet.”
“Maybe B?” Carter said. “B-A-V? No.”
Adi paced in front of the upright coffin. “It’s no good. We don’t have the code. We need to think of words that have A-V in them.”
“Save!” Carter said. “I bet the crown stood for the E!”
Adi tried S-A-V-E for the code. No good. Neither was HAVE or GAVE.
“It has to be something to do with vampires,” he said, frustrated. He tried V-A-M-P.
Sierra shut her eyes, pleading with her brain to put the pieces together. “We have to think how Louis thought.”
Beck coughed, then groaned. “Vera.”
“Vera. Right.” It had been Vera all along, that obnoxious but brilliant girl who never got the credit and always lived in the shadows, risking her life to expose the killer—
“Vera,” Beck said again.
Carter squealed, lifting the hand that wasn’t holding Beck’s wound. “Adi! The code! It’s—”
“VERA!”
Suddenly, Sierra could see it all. The silver earring in the chem lab jar, a perfect match to the one so often dangling from Vera’s ear. The palette of vivid eyeshadows tucked in with the clutter in the alien bunker. The chameleon stuffie that matched her tattoo.
Her final message in the fun house: And soon, everyone will know the truth. About me.
She’d been planning to reveal herself as the real Game Master in the finale!
Before Adi could input the code, the door above them wrenched open. Sierra launched herself to the side, out of view of the narrow steps. But Adi stayed right where he was, his fingers fumbling with the lock as he input Vera’s name.
“Adi!” Carter yelled.
He was either incredibly brave or—
Or nothing. He was just incredibly brave. He was putting his life on the line to get them out of there.
Heels clacked on the steps. Carter positioned her body to shield Beck.
Sierra watched the doorway. The gun appeared first. A lacquered fingernail twitched on the trigger—Sierra moved too late— the gun went off, but so did the coffin lid.
Adi leaped out of the way as a mannequin body of Dracula sprang out, immediately jerking back as the bullet struck it.
Sierra’s momentum took her forward anyway, and she shoved Symphony’s arm sideways, making her stumble.
Carter bounced up from her place and charged low, aiming for Symphony’s legs.
Her tackle was enough to slam the woman to the ground.
Carter ran to pin her, but Symphony squirmed free from Carter’s grip, kicking her in the face.
Carter rolled back, clutching her bleeding nose.
Sierra slowed to a stop as Symphony staggered to her feet. She was still holding the gun, aiming it for Sierra. Her beautiful face was blotchy with anger, her mouth twisted into a sneer.
Slowly, Sierra raised her hands in surrender.
“It’s empty,” said Adi. “You’re out of bullets.”
Symphony snarled. “Am I now?”
Sierra’s breath caught. Symphony seemed sure of herself. Too sure. Her gaze darted to Adi, who’d picked up the sword and was standing at Dracula’s open coffin. The mannequin’s eyes glowed red like the bats outside, his fangs bared.
“ ‘Massacre in the Mausoleum,’ ” Symphony croaked. “That’s what the headline will be. My career might be over, but I’ll go down in a blaze of glory. No one will ever forget the name ‘Symphony Parvesh.’” She curled her lip. “And my name will never again by overshadowed by your damn father’s.”
Adi held the sword like a baseball bat, ready to swing. “You sure about that?”
She laughed. “You’re so ready to defend Victor Cunningham? You don’t even know him.”
“He’s better than you. He has to be.”
Symphony turned the gun on him. “‘Violence with Vampires!’” There was a deranged edge to her voice now. She arced the gun toward Carter, still on the floor. “‘A Dance with the Devil!’”
Adi looked at Sierra, jaw set, eyes blazing. One, he mouthed.
One? One what?
Symphony pointed the gun at Beck. “Does it hurt?” she cooed—a fake imitation of maternal concern.
“I’m . . . totally . . . fine,” Beck wheezed.
“Not for long,” said Symphony.
Two, Adi mouthed.
Sweet Jesus. What was happening?
Symphony turned the gun back to Adi’s head.
“Three!”
“No!” Sierra yelled, flinging herself in the barrel’s path, right as Adi spun around and slammed the sword through Dracula’s chest. The mannequin fell forward. A secret door at the back of the coffin sprang open, revealing a bunch of cops and Ranielle Russell—
There was a deafening bang. Carter screamed.
Sierra jerked backward in horror. Colors flared in the corners of her vision. There had been a final bullet after all.
Adi had been wrong.
She’d trusted him with her life. She’d actually trusted him, and this . . . this was what she got for trusting anyone. Never again. Never—
A blur as people rushed past her. Someone was taking Symphony down, wrenching the gun away. Others were swarming around Beck. The gunshot resounded in Sierra’s ears. She heard it over and over.
It took a long time for the pain to come. Or any sign of blood.
There was color everywhere. And gunshots. More bullets, more explosions—
“Sierra. Sierra!” Adi was by her side.
“I— She— She shot me—”
“She didn’t shoot you,” said Adi. “It’s fireworks. You’re not hurt.”
Sierra dragged her gaze away from her torso and watched as mini flares went off from hidden pockets in each corner of the room.
“Fireworks,” she said weakly.
Adi grinned. “Fireworks. For the finale.”
Sierra patted herself down. No pain, no blood, no bullet holes. “Christ.” Regaining her senses, she whacked him in the chest. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“Did what?” he said, rubbing where she’d hit him.
“Started counting and expected me to figure out what the hell you were doing. Are you out of your mind?”
“What was I supposed to do? Mime it?”
“I trusted you!”
“Yeah, and it turned out fine, didn’t it?” His expression softened. “But hey. Thanks for jumping in front of an imaginary bullet for me.”
“Never. Again.”
“You have the right to remain silent—”
They looked over to see a cop wrenching Symphony Parvesh’s arms behind her back. She was almost beautiful in the colorful lights. Blue flares glinted on the steel of her handcuffs; red illuminated across her cheeks. The image had Sierra’s fingers itching for a paintbrush.
She waved as Symphony was dragged from the room.
The nightmare was over. The killer was caught. Alicia would have justice.
And they had escaped.