Henry and Paris were just replacing the sack of potatoes on top of the trapdoor when the cabin door slammed.

The couple looked at each other. Denver and Brooklyn? Or was the cheerleader already here? It was too soon for her to show up...they weren't gone yet...

They ran out of the kitchen. Denver was standing rigidly with her back to the door, looking pale and cold. She looked around at the boarded up windows with distant eyes.

“Denver,” said Paris, relieved. Partly that Denver was okay, mostly that she wasn't Chase. “You're okay. Th-thank goodness. We were starting to get worried.”

“Where's Brooklyn?” asked Henry.

Denver turned her eyes to him. It took her some time to find the words to answer, and in that time, London and David, summoned by the slamming of the door the same way Paris and Henry had been, were able to finish getting dressed and join the others in the living room.

“Denver! You're fine!” said London, giving her a hug. Her hair was mussed.

Denver hugged her back. When they separated, she told them, “Brooklyn's dead.”

David froze halfway through putting on his belt. He looked at her, shocked. “What?”

“The cheerleader killed her. Wikman was right,” said Denver. Her voice was hard and factual, an indicator of the emotional wall that this dangerous situation had forced her to erect between herself and her surroundings. “Venice is dead too. Sydney and Wikman probably are as well.”

“Oh fuck,” said London. “No... No...”

David cracked a wan smile. “You're kidding, right?” he asked shakily. “This is a joke.”

Denver noticed him for the first time. “No,” she said. “It isn't.”

London took her hand. “You saw it?” she asked weakly. “You saw?” Denver nodded. “Oh no.”

Paris started to cry convincingly into Henry's shoulder. Denver hugged London again. It didn't look much different from the hug they had shared just moments ago, but the context, the feeling of it, the wordless emotions expressed between them, was completely different.

Disbelief sucked the color from David's face and petrified it a look of horror. The boy sat down on the couch and stared unblinking at the floor.

Denver gave London a final pat on the back and pulled away from her. “We should finish boarding this place up. Thanks for not locking me out, but nobody else is coming. Nobody who we want here anyway.”

That suggestion had negative implications for Paris and Henry's plans of escape. They tried not to look too worried as they broke up their hug. Their hands lingered on each other as they looked at Denver, and there was uncertainty in their grip. “Wh...what if we need to leave? For some reason?” asked Henry.

“That would be a big mistake,” said Denver. “Nobody leaves, nobody splits up. We stick together now.”

“Oh...” replied Paris. “O-okay...”

Denver and Paris started boarding up the front door, while Henry went to check out the windows. David hadn't moved from the couch. London stood in front of him. “C'mon. We need your help.”

The boy said nothing. She frowned and kicked his foot. “What, you wanna just sit there feeling sorry for yourself?” she asked, over the sound of Denver's hammer. “You don't get to feel bad while we're up here working. What was Brooklyn to you, anyway? Just some girl you were fucking. She meant so much more to us. We were part of something together.”

“London...” said Paris, looking over from the board she was holding.

London's lips pursed, then she sighed. “Sorry, David. I'm...feeling a lot right now.”

David looked at her, then back at the floor. Hammers hit nails as he answered. “No, you're right...It's just so much to take. I...shouldn't have been... I'm such a piece of shit. While she was suffering, in her last moments, I was here with...I was betraying her...”

The hammering ceased. Denver took a nail out of her mouth and lined it up on the board. “Don't feel too bad, David. She didn't mind.”

London and Paris glared at her. “Denver!” Paris hissed.

“What?” asked Denver, confused.

David didn't understand. “What are you saying? She didn't mind...what?”

Denver looked around at her teammates, wondering what she said. They didn't explain, but she could read the atmosphere well enough to know she screwed something up, anyway. The giant turned red and scratched her head with the hammer's claw. “Well, you and London having sex all the time.”

“Delicately handled,” commented Paris.

“She...she what? She knew that?” asked David. He looked to London for answers.

London hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, sure. I guess so.”

“But...why didn't she say something?”

“Because she didn't mind,” replied Denver, feeling like they were going in circles.

London smiled. “Nothing's more important in this world than pleasure, David. If you feel an urge, you must satisfy it. If you feel a temptation, you must indulge it. When Brooklyn wanted sex, she could count on you. But why form an emotional attachment? Why create an expectation of loyalty? Are you angry if the fields feed someone else? If the well gives someone else something to drink? No, you don't give it a second thought.”

It looked like Denver had the board under control, so Paris let go and ran to London, grabbing her arm in a panic. “London, don't...what are you saying?”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Brooklyn was a beautiful girl. She could get sex from anywhere she wanted. It was just convenient for her to keep you in arms reach, that's all. Same goes for me. ”

Paris looked from David's confused face to London's smug, imperious one. “Have you lost it?” She tried to be vague. “You're...you're saying too much...”

London gave her an amused look. “Am I? Am I saying too much? Why's that? What do you think will happen?” A manic look appeared in her eye. “What'll happen if I tell him how Brooklyn really felt? What would happen if that knowledge led him to find out the truth? What if he heard that and thought, hmm, these girls are really fucking nuts. They might be the killers!”

“London!” She HAD lost it.

“Nothing would happen,” said London, answering her own question. “Nothing can stop us. Not him, not this cheerleader, not anyone. We've done so much for our master. We've proven our value to him. He will protect us.” She walked toward the kitchen. “Come on. I don't think we can afford to wait until the morning.”

Paris and Denver chased after her. “Wh-what do you mean?” asked Paris.

London crossed the kitchen to the pantry and opened the door. “We must sacrifice the cheerleader tonight. We will cast a spell of strength and protection against our enemies, with her as our offering.”

Snapping out of his state of shock, David felt a sense of confused anger. He followed her. “Hey, don't walk away. Are you really making fun of me? Really? A slut like you thinks she's better than-”

As London moved the potato sack out of the way, Paris stopped and put her hands on David's chest, trying to form a barricade against him. “D-don't be mad, David, she's hysterical...Why don't you go help Henry, let us take care of her...she'll listen to us.” Panic filled her. This wasn't the plan. This wasn't the plan. Everything was spiraling out of control...

He pushed past her, not listening.

As Paris spun around, London was flipping the trapdoor open. She descended the ladder with an excited grin on her face. David stopped at the top and looked down. He took a breath to calm himself, then said, “Looks like a full basement. Maybe we could barricade ourselves in there. Go get Henry.” No. No. He started down the ladder. “London!” he called. “London!”

Paris and Denver didn't go get Henry. They stood there in the kitchen, unsure what to do. Their secret had been fully unearthed. Paris felt like she was being bludgeoned with the reality of it for the first time. The murders, the violence, she'd swept it under the rug before. But now the rug was pulled back, and she was facing quite a mess. How did it come to this? Paris felt like bolting and running right then and there, just leaving all this madness behind.

Denver looked as nervous as she did. The only difference was that she looked stoic. There was no chance of her running. Unlike Paris, she was looking at the mess before them and thinking of how to clean it up.

Then, Denver moved to the ladder and began descending it herself. Paris couldn't think of anything to do but to bring up the rear.

“What...oh my god...” she heard David utter as she climbed down. She found him looking around, dumbfounded, at the candles, the altar, the portrait, everything. “You gotta be fucking with me. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.”

London and Denver were paying him no mind, however. They were looking at the empty slab. The cut ropes which had bound Caitlin's hands and feet rested on the slab's surface like dead snakes. Paris still felt their rough texture on her palms. She had helped cut them just a few minutes ago.

“Fuck. Fuck,” said London. “Where is she?”

Denver inspected the ropes. Paris felt fear rise within her. Would she be able to tell that someone had helped Caitlin? “She cut them somehow,” said Denver. “Damn.”

London kicked the slab. “Fuck!”

Seeing a chance, Paris said, “I can go look for her...”

London smiled. “No need for that. It's nighttime, and she wasn't wearing much...she'll probably freeze to death. Or get eaten. Even if she doesn't, you can't hike all the way back to Sunnycrest from here in one night, there's no way. Easy to get lost out there too. She won't get far. We'll go after her together.”

“What...what is all this, you guys?” asked David. “You're fucking with me, you have to be. You can't really be seri-”

London glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Go ahead, Denver.”

Paris hadn't noticed the way Denver had discreetly positioned herself behind David. On London's command, she wrapped her arm around David's throat in a chokehold.

“Gak,” the boy choked, grabbing her arm. “Gkk.”

“London!” cried Paris. “What the heck?! What are you doing?!”

“We still need a sacrifice,” said London simply. “He can't live through tonight anyway, he knows too much. He's not as good as a cheerleader, but I think Satan will give us points for resourcefulness, don't you?”

Denver was putting the squeeze on him in an expert manner, firm and efficient. Judging by the way he couldn't summon enough strength to keep his hands fighting her, he was already almost out.

London walked over to him and patted his cheek. “Sorry hon, but you see how it is now. We might have had fun together, we got to satisfy our carnal desires with each others' bodies. But my heart, my soul, belong to someone else.”

Paris had no idea if he could even hear her anymore. In a couple more seconds, he was utterly still.

While London lit some of the candles that had gone out, Denver carried him to the slab. Paris made like she was helping her.

“Denver,” she whispered. “You don't want to do this, right? You're not into all this Satan stuff, right?”

Denver looked up at her curiously. “What?”

“You're not.”

“I guess not. Why?”

Paris glanced at London, then back at Denver. “Let's get out of here. You, me and Henry. Let that cheerleader do whatever she wants with London.” This might have been a mistake, but she felt like she had to include Denver. She wasn't like London. She didn't deserve to go down with her.

Denver thought about this as she looked down at David's sleeping form. “It's nice of you to ask. But no.” She touched David's neck, where she had just been squeezing him. She took his pulse. “Without volleyball I'd be back in juvie by now. I know this is some serious shit, but if I turn my back on the team...it's just a matter of time before I get in trouble anyway. Except in that case, I wouldn't have my girls backing me up. And by that point, I might be old enough for real prison. Serious time. That's just how it is for girls like me.”

“It doesn't have to be,” whispered Paris. “We'll stick with you, me and Henry. We'll help you. You're doing better in school, right?”

Denver felt David's pulse in silence for a moment, then took her fingers off of David's throat. “I'm still years behind,” she said. “If I had your brains, maybe you'd be right. But I'm no good at that stuff, I'm not smart enough...this kinda thing is what I'm meant for. If I can do what I'm meant for, and still be a part of somethin', still have a crew with me, still stay on the outside and live a kinda normal life when I ain't hurting people...I gotta do it, Paris.”

London walked over, phone in hand. Her smile reflected a contentment that Paris found unsettling. This was a girl who was at absolute peace with what she was about to do, who was of the sincerest conviction that this was right. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Denver and Paris were silent for a moment. “...Yeah,” Paris finally confirmed.

London showed them the phone. A few lines of words with no English meaning were displayed. “Great. Here's the chant. Same as usual, you do this and I'll give the sacrifice.” She put a supportive hand on Paris' shoulder. “Be extra passionate. Use extra fervor. To make up for those who can't be here with us. Those we lost.” Her voice was soft and regretful.

“O-okay.”

The duo read the chant aloud a few times until they had a good rhythm applied to it. Pretty soon the repetition imprinted the words on their tongues, and they didn't need the phone anymore. Denver and Paris chanted together, while London put her hood up and took the sleeping David's left wrist in her left hand. Her knife glittered in her right.

He woke up when she cut his hand off. Naturally. The boy screamed in pain, but Denver held him down. London held the hand high, chanted a few words, then let the blood spill into her mouth. She took some in her hands and painted inverted crosses on Denver and Paris' foreheads. Paris didn't feel any safer. She felt cursed.

Then the knife pierced David's heart. A guttural final moan, and the boy lay still.

At that moment, all the lights in the cabin went out.