“Lexie, get the door,” Riley says.
“No!” I scream. Alexis and Grace follow us out of the bathroom. Even Alexis seems uncertain of Riley’s orders, but she still closes the door behind her. I listen for the sound of splashing or screaming—anything to tell me Brooklyn’s still alive on the other side of the door. But all I hear is silence.
I pull away from Riley, but she digs her nails into my skin and forces me out of the bedroom and into the hall. While Alexis grabs my arms, Riley slips the tiny key out of her pocket again. There’s a silver lock nailed to the doorframe, just like in the basement and at the front door.
Riley planned this—this exact moment. She never meant to baptize Brooklyn. From the beginning, she’s been planning to lock her in that bathroom to die.
While Riley is fumbling with the key, I twist my arm away from Alexis, then swing it back, hitting her just below the ribs. Swearing, she doubles over, and I slip out of her grip. I barrel into Riley shoulder first, shoving her aside before she can click the lock shut.
“Sofia, stop!” Riley yells. I don’t listen. I push the bedroom door open and race for the bathroom. My feet slip over the slick wooden floor, still wet from blood and the dirty tub water.
Riley catches up to me as I reach the bathroom. I try to open the door, but she slaps it shut again.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she says, panting. “The devil . . .”
I force the door open, pushing her aside. She slips on a puddle of water near the bathroom door and nearly falls, grabbing hold of the wall to catch herself. The water’s surface looks as still as glass. I run to the tub and drop to my knees, thrusting a hand through the brown water. Grace and Alexis crowd behind Riley in the doorway, their footsteps echoing against the marble floors. They hurry over to me, but they’re too late. We all are. I stand, pulling my trembling arm out of the water.
“Oh my god,” I say, lifting my hands to my mouth.
The bathtub is empty. Brooklyn isn’t dead—she’s gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Brooklyn’s gone. I back into Riley and her body stiffens. Her fingers enclose my wrists.
“Where is she?” Riley asks.
“I don’t know.”
Riley drops my arm. Her eyes widen, and she scans the bathroom, edging her way toward the door. Every muscle in her body tenses, as if she expects Brooklyn to jump out of the walls.
I replay the situation in my head again and again, like it’s a math problem that doesn’t add up. I wrap my arms around my chest and search the bathroom. Grace clutches the doorframe, her knuckles going white. Alexis hovers next to her. The corner of her lips twists into something between a smile and a grimace.
“We should have known she would get away,” she says. I ignore her and start throwing open the cabinets and closet and shower doors. Empty, all of them. Brooklyn really isn’t here.
“Where the fuck is she?” Riley slams her open palm against the counter next to the sink.
“Riley—”
“No!” Riley snaps, cutting me off. “We have to find her. Now!”
The weird smile stays painted on Alexis’s face. She wraps a long blond strand of hair around one finger. “Don’t you get it? She’s going to find us, and then she’s going to kill us.”
“No!” Riley jerks her head back and forth. “No. She’s too weak. That’s not going to happen. Grace, search the basement. The rest of us will look for her on the main floors.”
“Why would we look for her inside?” Grace is talking so fast that her words slur together. “She probably went right for the front door, Ri.”
“No,” Riley insists. “There’s no way out, I made sure of it. She’s still in the house. We just have to find here.”
Grace looks like she might say something else, but instead she presses her lips together and nods.
“You check the bedrooms,” Riley says to Alexis. “Sofia and I will look downstairs.”
Alexis’s smile fades. “You want me to go alone?”
“Just do it.” Riley grabs my arm and pulls me from the room into the hall.
Shadows pool in the corners. The plastic hanging from the ceiling rustles in phantom wind. Every second that ticks past pounds at the inside of my skull. I want Brooklyn to get away from here. I should be trying to mess Riley up—every moment we waste could be the moment Brooklyn finds an open window or a door without a lock on it.
But as much as I want this to be over and for Brooklyn to be safe, I still don’t know what she’s capable of. She could be hiding around every corner, waiting on the other side of every wall. She could be anywhere.
A floorboard groans. I jump and spin around, but it’s just Grace. She slips down the stairs without a word.
Riley lifts the worn black backpack from the floor where I dropped it. She pulls it open and removes the butcher knife. Her bare feet are practically silent as she moves down the hallway, her back to the wall to keep the floorboards from creaking. I picture the rows of nails wedged into the window frames. There’s no way Brooklyn could pull them out of the wood before we reach the first floor. I have to stall Riley.
“Hurry,” Riley hisses. She starts down the stairs, and when she reaches the landing, she pauses and cocks her head.
I hear it, too—laughing. At first it’s faint, but then it bubbles into a giggle and cuts off abruptly. I turn to look for Alexis, but the hallway behind me is empty. She must’ve already gone into another room.
“Check on Lexie,” Riley says. The top of her head disappears from view as she makes her way to the first floor.
I drag my feet down the hall until I’m standing in front of the window at the end of the hall, next to the cloudy sheet of plastic hanging from the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye I see something dart across the floor, and I spin around. A knotted rope hangs from the ceiling, casting a shadow that sweeps over the floor as it sways back and forth, back and forth. I reach out to steady it, then tilt my head, following the rope to a door directly above me. The attic.
The plastic sheet rustles, even though there’s no wind.
“Brooklyn?” I turn, listening for breathing, but I only hear my own heart hammering in my chest. The blurry shadows between the plastic and the unfinished wall look large enough to be a person. I step closer, my sneakers squeaking against the floor. I lift a shaking hand and wrap my fingers around the plastic.
Someone laughs. I turn so quickly I lose my balance and stumble into the window behind me. The pane shudders, and for a second I’m certain it’ll crack. But it holds. The glass feels cold against my bare arms.
There’s silence in the empty hallway, then the laughter rises again. It’s breathless at first. Then gasping—hysterical. It’s coming from the bedroom across from me. I creep forward and push open the door.
Alexis is alone in the empty room, her wide, vacant eyes fixed on some point on the wall in front of her. She balances on the sides of her feet, curling her bare toes inward, like claws. Blood stains the skin along the bottoms of her feet.
Giggling quietly to herself, she twists a long strand of blond hair around her finger. Tighter and tighter she winds it, until her fingertip turns blue.
Then she yanks—pulling the hair right out of her head.
I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands to muffle the sound. Alexis turns her head slowly, like she just realized I was there.
“Don’t you think it’s funny?” She spreads her fingers and the lock flutters out of her hand, landing on a pile of hair at her feet. Curly strands cover the floor like tiny blond question marks.
“What’s funny, Alexis?” I swallow, forcing my eyes away from the hair.