Suddenly, a female figure jumped out from around the corner, wearing a mask and holding a knife. “RAAAAAAAAARRRR! KILLLLLLLLL!”

“Eeeek!” the volleyball girls screamed, sans Denver, who looked unconcerned.

The girl stopped and took off her mask with a snicker. She revealed a wide-eyed, playful face. “Holy cow, tense much?”

“Venice, you bitch,” sighed Sydney, catching her breath. “Don't freak me out like that.”

Venice laughed. “You guys scare too easy for a bunch of Satanists.” With the mask off, she took her glasses out of her pocket and put them on. She had black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a sharp, intelligent face. She had a stern and oddly prim look to her, which clashed with the mischievous deed she had just done.

“Did you find anything out about Lacrosse Captain Hugh?” London asked her.

Venice looked at her. She shook her head as she folded the mask up and slipped it into her purse. “No...I talked to some of his friends and his girlfriend...they didn't have any idea. I don't really understand it.”

“I guess we have some kind of copycat killer, then?” asked Brooklyn. “How flattering!”

London frowned. “Hmm. I'd rather not have someone out there making a mockery of our faith...but I suppose they could come in handy if we need a fall guy. We just need to find out who he is.”

Hands covered London's eyes. “Who what is?” asked a male voice.

All of them jumped in surprise. London whirled around, then looked up. Standing before her was a dark-haired boy with steely eyes. She smirked. “Wouldn't you like to know? Douche.”

“David!” Brooklyn joyously cried, throwing herself at him.

He greeted her with a kiss. “Hey, babe.”

With David were two other guys: a burly, shaggy-haired blonde and a slender guy with brown hair and handsome features.

Sydney kissed the blonde, and Paris gave the slender boy an impassioned hug. “Henry.”

“Hey, Pear,” he said. Hearing him use his pet name for her was the icing on a very soothing cake. After spending all morning with her friends, it was nice to see a friendly face.

“I know,” said the burly blonde, his arm draping around Sydney's shoulders. “They're thinkin' about goin' and huntin' the Satanist. Right?”

London and Sydney exchanged a knowing smile. “Damn, you got us,” said Sydney.

“Well, if you find 'em, let me know,” he said. “I wouldn't mind havin' a piece of 'em myself.”

“What are you gonna do, Wikman?” asked David. “Make him tap out?”

“Hell yeah, dude. Get him in an arm bar...” he mimed this action, one that had been drilled into him at wrestling practice and at the MMA gym. “See if Satan can get him outta that one! Rrrah!”

“So what are you guys up to?” asked Venice. “It's kind of rare to see all three of you hanging out.”

“Well, we were just thinking,” said David, putting an arm around Brooklyn, “we still haven't properly celebrated you girls going to state for the third year in a row.”

“Yessss?” asked Brooklyn, resting her head against him.

“So we were thinking, hell, we better throw you all a party!” finished Wikman.

“Hell yeah!” whooped Sydney.

“Yay! Party time!” cheered Brooklyn.

Paris gave Henry a curious look. He shook his head and gave a shy smile, indicating this was primarily David's and Wikman's doing.

“Cool, where's it at?” asked Denver.

The guys hesitated. “Well, uh, we were hoping you'd know a good place.”

London laughed. “So we're really throwing a party for ourselves and you guys are going to be there.”

“Hey, we'll bring the booze!” said Wikman defensively.

Brooklyn got a brilliant idea. “London's parents have a rental cabin we can use!”

London fell into a stunned silence. She tried to limit the amount of disbelief that showed on her face, and was only marginally successful. “Whoa, really?” asked David, looking at London. “That would be perfect!”

London tried to look natural. “Yeah, it would be...but we can't use it.”

“Aw, why not?” asked Wikman.

“Well...well...” said London, searching for an excuse. “It, uh...”

“Sure we can use it!” said Sydney excitedly. “It's in the middle of nowhere, and it's not like there's anyone renting it right now!”

“S-Sydney!” hissed London.

“We won't get caught,” insisted David. “It's just one night.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

London looked at the guys, then at her teammates. She sighed, then regained her cool, composed air. “Alright. Sounds fun. I'll text you the address later.”

The guys left, and London immediately turned on Brooklyn and Sydney. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she growled.

“Not enough partying!” Brooklyn answered.

Sydney high fived her with a “Woo!”

“We can't bring them to the cabin!” panicked Paris. “What if...what if they find out what we've been doing there?”

“They won't find out,” said Venice. “We'll just go there ahead of time, lock the basement, and keep it locked the whole night. It'll be fine.”

London shook her head and pointed at Brooklyn and Sydney. “It's fucking careless. It's an unnecessary risk. And for what? So you can spend time reveling and cavorting with those men?” Her eyes were heated fire pokers. “I question your devotion. I question whether you are willing to fully turn over your souls...and your bodies, to Satan.”

“Sure, sure. Of course we are,” said Sydney.

“We're all servants of Satan...but Satan also wants us to have fun, to do what we want,” said Brooklyn brightly. “Do as thou wilt shall be the whole of the law, right?”

“Yeah, lighten up, London,” added Venice.

London frowned, then turned to leave. “Hmph.”

“Where are you going?” asked Denver.

“I'm gonna skip class and head to the library,” said London. “There's some more occult stuff I want to look into...one of us has to be the dedicated one.”

.............

London was annoyed as she stood in the aisle in the non-fiction section, a hardcover book concerning the occult open against her forearm.

There weren't many people in the library, not really, but it still seemed like a lot for a weekday morning. Mostly older people, probably retired, were scattered around, either browsing, sitting at the computers or reading in chairs and at tables.

London's phone was out in her other hand, photographing the pages of the open book. She knew better than to check any occult books out, of course. That would draw too much attention to herself. But she could at least stand in the aisle and read them, and take pictures of interesting pages that she wanted to keep. She found it hard to concentrate, though. The other volleyball girls were taking up unwanted space in her thoughts.

They just didn't take it as seriously as she did. To them this was a game. Their faith...well, they did believe. She was sure of that. But the depth of that belief was questionable. What they were willing to give to Satan...how substantive was it? They were willing to give the lives of others, but would they be willing to dedicate their own lives to Satan, the way London was? She seriously doubted it. That was dangerous, in any number of ways.

London snapped a picture of a particularly gory illustration. No...her friends had done many drastic and dangerous things for Satan already, for their cause. They had proven their dedication to the cause by being willing to kidnap, to kill, to overlook the fact that what they were doing was...well, perhaps, not right. What they were doing was, perhaps, wrong...but deserved. Do as thou wilt, Brooklyn said. Do what you will, as in, what you wish. What you want. They were doing what they wanted, and it was their right to do so.

Her teammates, her friends, did not doubt for a second that this right was inalienable. That was good enough. Perhaps London was just taking this TOO seriously.

The book was great. She really wished she could check it out...but she knew better. She put it back on the shelf, resolving to come back to it another day. There were a couple other books she wanted to investigate before she left.

The athletic girl left her aisle and began walking past the rows, evaluating where she might find the books on astronomy. It was then that, down one of the aisles, by a window, she spotted Caitlin sitting at one of the library tables.

What was she doing here? Did she skip class? Well, yeah, she must have. But Caitlin was a little goody two shoes, wasn't she? An overachiever? This seemed out of character.

London smiled to herself. Well, whatever. Maybe this was a good opportunity to extend her sincerest condolences for Rebecca's untimely death.

She walked over behind Caitlin. The cheerleader hadn't noticed her yet, so she decided to impersonate a stern librarian and ask, “Shouldn't you be in school?”

Caitlin jumped and looked up at her, then smiled in relief. “Oh. Hi.” Once her relief faded, she looked a bit wary. “I could say the same thing to you.”

“Just looking up something for school,” said London nonchalantly.

This response set the standard for the acceptable amount of vagueness Caitlin could give. The cheerleader accepted it. “Same,” said Caitlin.

London knew cheerleader wouldn't pry, lest London pry back at her. Still though, she was curious.

“I come in peace,” she said, with levity in her voice. She saw Caitlin relax. “I just wanted to let you know I'm really sorry about Rebecca.”

First, Caitlin looked surprised. “Oh!” Then, she looked sad. “Thanks...I am too.”

“I know we haven't gotten along with you cheerleaders in the past, that we've kind of competed with each other...But you know at our core we really respect you. It was a shock to all of us on the team to hear about it.”

Caitlin gave a faint smile. “Thanks, London. I appreciate that. Alicia always says we're all on Team Sunnycrest. I think that's true. We respect you too. You've done a lot for our school with all the state championships you've won and all.”

“Aw, well, we had some help,” said London. She meant from Satan, but what she said was, “We couldn't do it without the cheerleaders getting everyone behind us. I bet Sunnycrest has the best school spirit in the county because of what you guys do-”

She fell abruptly silent. She happened to glance over Caitlin's shoulder at what she was working on. When she did, London saw something on the table that chilled her.

It was a satellite photo of the cabin.

At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. It was some kind of Telltale Heart hallucination manifested by her paranoia of being caught. But no, it was really there. Why did Caitlin have this? What was going on?

Then, she looked at the book open on the table. She couldn't glean much from it in those couple seconds, but she pulled enough important words to know it concerned the woods outside of town, where her parents' cabin was located.

There was only one explanation. One chilling explanation. Motivated by the death of her squadmate, Caitlin decided to go hunting for the Satanist herself. But how had she gotten this far? How did she learn about the cabin? Well, she was an overachiever, after all. A smarty pants. Plus her mom was a cop. Caitlin might have picked up a thing or two from her about investigating a crime.

“We can't take all the credit for that, but yeah, you're probably right,” admitted Caitlin.

Caitlin was acting friendly toward London. She was not displaying any signs of suspicion. That meant that even though Caitlin knew about the cabin, she did not know who owned it. Still, though, she was close to that truth.

A simple conclusion came to London. Regardless of how Caitlin did it, this girl was dangerous. Very dangerous. And her investigation had to be stopped right there. It looked as though they'd be sacrificing another cheerleader very soon.

London looked around the library. Nobody was looking at them, but there were still quite a few people around. An old man was sitting at the table right next to the one Caitlin was working at. London's car was in the library parking lot. She needed to subdue Caitlin somehow...subdue her long enough to get her in there and drive away. But how could she do that without anyone seeing?

The easiest way would be the method the volleyball girls had used to obtain all their victims so far. She could get Caitlin to enter the car willingly.

“You know,” said London with a smile, “why don't we let bygones be bygones? I'm starving, let's go grab lunch. It's about that time. You've already cut class, so you might as well. My treat.”