Page 66 of Vying Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #2)

Tilda

Blood trickles from my temple. There’s a nauseating whirlpool in my stomach that intensifies with each breath.

He knocked me out. Must have. I don’t remember the walk, or how I came to be here, clearly underground with my legs tied to a chair.

So out of it, it takes a while for the panic to come back. His head bobs as he works and I barely have it in me to lift a knee into his chin. He snaps his head up, eyes darkening when he sees I’m awake.

My stomach drops. This close, I see there’s something wrong with him. He looks how Nic did high at the Vaults.

Great. Psycho and on drugs.

I open my mouth. ‘What—?’

He grabs my hair, face close to mine as he yanks my head back. ‘I—do not—give you permission—to talk.’

I squeeze my eyes shut, a whimper escaping me unfettered. His spit sits on my lips. Hot tears well behind my eyelids, the pounding in my head worsening to the point I really think I’m going to throw up.

I hear a scuff, prying open my stinging eyes to see him picking up a black cloth from an open bag on the floor.

I shake my head as he ties it around my face, followed by tape.

No, no.

I can’t breathe like this. It’s too close. My nose is too blocked. I’m going to throw up.

My breaths are loud and hot behind the cloth. I close my eyes to concentrate on slowing my breathing but that only seems to worsen it. I can’t breathe. I really, really can’t breathe.

I kick out, my tied legs achieving nothing more than making the chair shift an inch.

Damien glances my way. ‘No signal.’ He holds up a phone. ‘Let’s hope Nicole’s still good at orienteering.’

I cry out, the sound muffled and pathetic. Damien doesn’t look this time. He’s preoccupied with the contents of his bag. I scream louder, my vision dimming. I’m panicking. I’ve never felt panic like it. I’m going to die, suffocated by this gag.

I pull in a breath through my nose, hard as I can, but it’s not enough. My chest is heavy, burning, desperate for oxygen.

My struggle rouses Damien, who pauses then stands, eyes studying me intently.

My mind flickers, my eyesight blackening. Grey blobs kaleidoscope.

Damien chuckles, his silhouette wavering before my eyes.

‘Jesus, Nicole. What have you bagged yourself?’

Nic

The boat’s barely touched the shore before Haz stops it with her boot.

The Charon watches warily. We’re not hiding the weapons, my blade and the two kitchen knives we filched from the closest dorm.

It’s usually quiet this time of day, more so with Varsity going on on the other side of the woods.

Charons probably thought they were in for a quiet shift, some easy money.

Unfortunately for them, this is Hazelhurst. We don’t do quiet.

They don’t challenge Elly. They know better. They sit with their cloaked back to us, rowing steadily. Too steadily for Haz who faces the same way, pounding the tip of her knife into the wooden edge of the boat with such force it rocks like on a stormy sea.

‘Plan,’ she bites out.

I look at the dropped location, noting the bars at the top slowly trickling away.

Once we’re underground, there’ll be no signal.

No updates from Damien. Haz knows the labyrinth as much as I do.

Me through The Order and her through her nocturnal explorations, some on which she brought Tilda.

That’s one measly advantage I can see in this whole clusterfuck.

Not that it’ll count for much. Damien was the fucking president.

He’ll know every secret there is to know down there.

Of course, there’s no mapping of the labyrinth itself. No chambers or tunnels. I just know the closest entrance to them is via the Vaults.

I grit my teeth as I think. ‘There’re chambers.

Tonnes of them by that entrance. I want us staggered.

Haz a chamber behind me, Elly behind her.

’ I raise my voice when Haz whips her head round to protest. ‘He said alone, Haz. Just stay behind me. You fuck this for Tilda, and I’ll murder you.

Don’t underestimate Damien. He’s beyond fucked in the head. ’

Haz glowers, so much running through her eyes. She doesn’t need to say anything. Bit rich coming from me, isn’t it, when all I’ve done is fuck things for Tilda. I snort at the sick irony of it all. I finally decide to get over myself and now it all might get whisked away.

‘I also need someone to watch for Blakely and Fina.’ If Tommy ever finds them, if they’re bothered to even get involved again. ‘I don’t want Damien alerted to anything. Not until I say.’

‘Again,’ Haz says. ‘What’s the plan?’

‘I don’t fucking know, Haz! Get in, get Tilda out. That’s all I’ve got.’

‘I think Nic might be right,’ Elly says tentatively. ‘This is basically a hostage situation. One wrong move and…’

I toss my head against the wind, refusing to consider the and. ‘This is my shit, just let me deal.’

‘And Tilda’s ours,’ Haz counters. ‘And I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.’ Another stab of her knife.

I huff out a breath. Just have to hope she does as I say. She’s usually full of bluster but always pulls through.

Truth is, I’ve never seen Haz in love, never seen this version of her. It’s got her wild, reckless, protective as a mother bear who’d maul whoever endangers her cub.

Maybe she will kill Damien. Once Tilda’s safe, maybe I’ll step out her way.

I catch Elly’s eyes. I see it all there—the trepidation, the fear, the feeling that she’s out of her depth.

She’s different to me and Haz. She’s what we have missing, all the light and the kindness.

Everything me and Haz lost along the way.

She’d hate me for saying so. Scoffs every time she gets called too nice.

If this all goes tits up, she’s got more to lose. She’s got family, people who rely on her, love her.

The sight of the knife clutched in her hand is just wrong.

She’s never even been to the Vaults. It’s a place that only lends itself to likeminded kin, those as dark as its cavernous mouth.

It’s not a place for someone like Elly. The thought of her looking into Damien’s eyes, just as dark, makes me want to flay my own skin.

‘Elly…’ I start quietly.

‘Don’t. This is Tilda.’

I nod and look away. What more can I do? We’re all here for the same reason. Knights vying for the chance to save the princess.

And Damien, that black dragon.

It’s not the first time I’ve wished for these boats to have motors.

The solemn rowing goes with the whole vibe.

The cloaked, unspeaking Charon, rowing slowly, slowly over the grey waters, right into the mouth of hell.

It’s something that wears off the first handful of times.

Then it’s just tapping your fingers on the edge of the boat until you finally dock.

Haz disembarks first, almost mowing the Charon over in her haste.

She helps Elly out, then me. At the tunnel to the Vaults, she waits, none too patiently.

This place is my domain, inherited from Damien.

I see his fingerprints all over it now. How he’s dictated my every move without even being here.

I wouldn’t be at Hazelhurst without him, I wouldn’t be part of The Order, I wouldn’t have met Elly or Tilda.

It’s like the glamour’s worn off. No longer the maiden but a crone, not a fairy but a goblin. His influence is everywhere, just like his hands used to be.

And now he’s planting those same fingers on Tilda.

I hurry down the tunnel, uncaring of the other two lurching behind me, their footsteps loud and obvious. I can’t bear for her to spend another second in his presence. I don’t care if he turns those fingers on me. I’d take it all if it meant sparing her.

We move through the empty club, the bar, the sparring cages and into the market at the back.

This tunnel’s mainly a place for young, eager freshers, hot with the rumours of what happens down in the labyrinth, all the secret goings-on of a society they could only wish to be a part of.

It’s usually manned by some dour-faced bouncer.

Today, there’s only a rope cordon that’s easy enough to remove.

Did he bring her this way? Doubt he would have reattached the rope so carefully if he had, not with a struggling Tilda.

Or had she not been struggling? Maybe he—

I cut off my thoughts when they threaten to release as a scream. It would be just like him to drug her, to find some other way to immobilise her enough so she’s compliant. Damien doesn’t negotiate. He only knows how to take what he wants.

And unfortunately, today, I don’t have what he wants.

Unlatching the rope, I step into the labyrinth.

I cast my gaze back to the others as we’re swallowed in the gloom. They hang back by tacit command, turning on their phone torches and angling them to the ground. I don’t bother with the same. My senses are pricked for any kind of disturbance, their fitful, grey lights enough to see by.

Against the old tunnel walls, a gaping silhouette indicates the first chamber.

Haz grabs my arm. ‘Are you giving him the money?’ she hisses.

I hesitate, not about to tell her I don’t have it. There’s more money out there but what I have access to right now, my current account, was spent mostly on Elly’s family’s carer. Not about to tell Elly that either.

‘Haven’t decided yet.’

Haz drops her hand from me. ‘Then fucking decide.’

I turn back around, waving my hand at them to lower their torches. I peek into the chamber. Empty.

‘Elly, duck round there. Haz the next one.’

Elly steps reluctantly into the archway, her phone making a quick arc around the empty space. She watches raptly as we continue on.

‘Fucking hate this,’ Haz bites out.

I shush her, pointing to the next empty chamber.

I feel calmer on my own, like I’ve shed a weight. Already worried about Tilda, I can’t be stressing about those two as well.