I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all. Just gather up my winnings and let Remy guide me away—which he does, very quickly.

It turns out Hudson is right behind Remy, and he’s the other reason no one tried to interrupt the game—or steal the gold I won. The only other time I’ve seen him look like this is right before he disintegrated Cyrus’s bones and, magic-tamping bracelets or not, he does not look like someone to mess with right now. And that’s before he flat-out stares down one of the guards who starts to intercept us.

After that, people don’t merely step back as we pass—they literally scramble to get out of our way. Flint and Calder—who were cleaning up in the arm-wrestling ring—meet up with us halfway across the Hex. And then I feel like I’m walking in some kind of paranormal cage, with Remy in front of me, Hudson behind me, and Calder and Flint on either side of me.

“Where are we going?” I whisper as I scramble to keep up with Remy’s long-legged strides. And can I just say how much it sucks to be the only short person in the middle of a group of tall people, who are all hell-bent on getting somewhere really damn fast?

“Back to our room,” Hudson tells me. “Between what you won and the arm wrestling, we’re carrying enough gold to have half the floor coming for us.”

And sure enough, when I glance around, I realize that every person in the place is staring at us now. And what I see in their expressions isn’t good.

Fear, avarice, curiosity, rage. It’s all right there, and I can’t help wondering how long before everything blows up.

We have six more days to reach the Pit—which means five more days of visiting the Hex. I thought the Chamber was the worst thing we had to go through in this place, and now I can’t help wondering if it’s really just a matter of going from the frying pan into the fire and back again.

We make it to our room in what I’m pretty sure must be record time, but none of us relaxes until the staircase retracts and the trapdoor slides shut behind us.

The second it does, Calder lets out a huge whoop. “I take it back, Grace. That was one hell of a show. Looks like you’ve got way more going for you than I thought.”

It’s the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received, but Calder seems sincere, so I smile and say, “Thanks?” Although it doesn’t seem exactly fair to take the compliment, considering Remy had to rescue me. If he hadn’t, I’m pretty sure one of the witches or I would have ended up losing a limb—or more—at the hands of a pissed-off windigo.

“I agree, that was one hell of a show,” Remy says.

“They were great, weren’t they?” I ask, grinning at Hudson. “I couldn’t believe how long you lasted against that giant.”

“I don’t think the arm wrestling was the show he was talking about,” Hudson tells me with a grin. “You were spectacular.”

“Me? All I did was roll some marbles.”

“Against two members of the evilest coven in the place,” Remy tells me. “And you practically had them in tears before you were through.”

“All I did was play the game—”

“No one ever wins their game. Ever.” Remy gives a little disbelieving shake of his head. “It’s kind of a thing around these parts.”

“What made you choose them, anyway?” Flint asks.

“I know the game—my friend Heather’s dad used to have a board like that. And I just wanted to make some money to help everyone.” I leave out my desire to show Calder that I’m good for something, but the look in Hudson’s eyes says he already knows. And is highly amused by the competition.

“I think you made almost as much as Hudson and Calder combined,” Remy says, and it’s obvious he’s amused, too. “Looks like you’re the biggest badass of the day.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I answer. “Hudson did stare down a windigo like it was nothing.”

“What can I say?” He shoots me a tiny grin that gives me all the feels in all the places. “I like you with all your pieces attached.”

“Yeah, me too,” I agree fervently.

His eyes darken at my tone, and just like that I’m back in that hotel room in New York, my arms and legs wrapped around Hudson while he does all the right things to those pieces he likes so much.

124

Is It Still Russian

Roulette if the Gun

Is Fully Loaded?

I don’t know how long we stand there staring at each other with way too much heat in our eyes, but it’s long enough for Calder to start fanning herself and for Flint to head to the bathroom, commenting that, “I strangely feel the need for a cold shower.”

Remy, on the other hand, simply laughs and goes over to his bunk.

It’s not long after that the rest of us do the same.

Lunch comes through the trapdoor—turkey sandwiches this time—and I eat like it’s been a year since I’ve seen food. Who knew that nearly getting murdered would give a girl such an appetite?

Afterward, I figure we’ll sit around talking—there’s not much else to do—but Calder, Flint, and Hudson fall asleep pretty quickly. Which seems normal, at least until each of them starts to shake or whimper.

I’ve never felt more pathetic—or more useless—in my entire life.

I hate that they’re suffering, hate even more that there’s nothing I can do to take it away. Still, Remy says he’ll keep me out again tonight—and if he can’t keep any of the others out, I’m going to let him.

My only hope for the others is that we don’t get the Chamber again tonight. Remy and Calder say it never happens simultaneously. That maybe, maybe you’ll get the Chamber twice on your trip to the Pit—if you’re unlucky.

I have my fingers, my toes, and everything else I can think of crossed, praying that they don’t have to go through that again. That Hudson and Flint and Calder don’t have to face whatever it is the Chamber gives them—especially since tonight’s will be worse, as we’re one level closer to the Pit.

Part of me wishes I had read Dante’s “Inferno,” just so I understood how this whole layers-of-hell/prison thing works. But the other part is grateful that I don’t know. Hudson and Macy make comments about me burying my head too much—and they’re right. I do. But when it comes to this, the last thing I need is images of what’s to come emblazoned on my brain.

Besides, it’s not going to come if we don’t get the Chamber again, I remind myself. And we’re not going to get the Chamber. We’re not. Surely we can’t be that unlucky.

Except we are. Over and over again.

Every night, the cell circles around as we wait to find out if we hit the Chamber. And every single night, we end up in hell.

“This isn’t fair!” I rage to Remy on the third night. “Why does this keep happening to them?”

“Life’s not fair, cher,” is his laconic reply. But his knuckles are white as he clutches his book like a lifeline.

“They can’t keep going through this!” I yell when we hit it again on the fourth night. Guilt and desperation eat me up. But all I can do is sit out here and watch as they go through hell.

That night, their screams are louder and more frequent. And the following morning, none of them even tries to pretend to recover.

Flint looks like hell. I haven’t seen his grin in two days, his eyes are sunken pits from lack of sleep brought on by nightmares, and his hands tremble now almost all the time.

Calder’s skin has lost its shine, and she has dark bags under her eyes. Even her glorious hair has gone dull, and at least half the time she’s holding back tears.

As for Hudson…Hudson is wasting away right in front of me. He doesn’t touch the blood they send for meals—in fact, he doesn’t even look at it. He barely talks, barely sleeps, and every day he seems to be slipping more and more away from me.

“It’s going to be okay,” Remy reassures me, but I can see the doubt creeping into his eyes.

On the fifth day, we don’t even make it through half of our allotted Hex time. Everyone else on our level is in a great mood, as none of them has gotten the Chamber even once, except the few others in our cellblock (who look like they would beat us down if they weren’t so beaten themselves from the Chamber). The games of chance are growing more and more daring, and Remy cleans up at a shell game. He tries to talk the others into arm wrestling again, but it becomes apparent pretty quickly that none of them is in any shape for it.

Flint loses his first three matches and quits.

Calder can’t sit still long enough to even get into position.

And Hudson flat-out refuses to touch anyone. He also doesn’t stop by to browse at even one of the stalls bartering books, which he’s done almost every other day.

We end up back in our room in less than an hour.

Later that night, after Calder starts crying hysterically the second the light clicks down to one hour before the Chamber spin, I beg Remy to try to let me take one of their places.

“I can’t do this!” I tell him. “I can’t watch them suffer like this another night and not do something to try to help them.”

“It won’t work,” he answers me through gritted teeth.