3. Harper Leigh

No one else seemed to recognize the severity of the situation. We were locked inside, and according to the voice—the only way out was to live through the games they had planned.

I stepped through the door into what appeared to be a grand hall, or what used to be one. Dull, thick burgundy curtains you could tell were once rich in color lined the length of the wall. I crossed the expanse of the grimy carpet, nearly tripping on the cracked, checkered ballroom floor. Curtains meant windows, and windows meant a way out.

Swerving around overturned wooden tables, I strode across the room and yanked the drapery back, only to be met with plexiglass bolted over a window painted black. Pane after pane turned up the same.

"Why are you doing this?" I screamed, knowing whoever orchestrated this was watching and listening.

"Harper, baby, calm down. This is all in good fun, just like the invitation promised," Landry crooned as he pulled me into his muscular chest.

It was moments like this that made me miss Vi even more. She'd be helping, not knocking back bourbon from a flask kee-kee'ing like idiots who die first in horror movies. At the thought of my best friend's name, my chest tightened.

Turning in Landry's arms, I lifted my gaze and asked, "What was the video about?" The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why they'd chosen the day of the party—the day Vi went missing. I'd been so lost in my grief from the loss of my mother that I barely processed the reason they'd said she left.

He paused, peering at where Raymond, Addie, and Conrad stood bunched together by the candlelit sconces. As he shifted his attention back to me, I noticed blush-pink lipstick, the same shade Adeline wore tonight, on the side of his neck.

"It's nothing, Harper," his tone chilled. "Just whoever's planned this is trying to add some mystery and build tension to the night. Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't Viola behind this," he answered, lowering his mouth toward mine.

I stepped back. Vi told me time and time again of her suspicions of Addie and Landry, but I didn't believe her. Landry had been the epitome of a Southern gentleman. He never pushed me too far ,and respected my decision to wait for marriage. He attended service with me each Sunday, and never let me walk on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street.

Landry's brows scrunched up in confusion. "What is it, baby?"

My mouth parted to confront him when the voice from the sky interrupted.

"One should never start rigorous activities without stretching. So, let's warm up."

The doors we came through swung shut, and a metal sheet slammed down, trapping us. Addie shrieked and began running in Landry's direction before latching onto Conrad's arm.

"Still think this is all just some silly game?" I snapped, pulling from his arms.

Before Landry could reply, a voice different from the one we heard when we arrived spoke. "Now, I need everyone lined up at the edge of the dancefloor. You have ten seconds."

I scrambled to follow his instructions, dragging Landry by his arm.

"Ten . . . nine . . . eight," an automated voice began.

"You really are being dramatic, Harper Leigh. Nothing will happen," he said once we stood where the carpet and tile met.

"Seven . . . six . . . five . . . four."

Addie's eyes flitted around the room before dashing to the spot next to Landry, and I stepped between them. When her blue eyes met mine, fear was clear in their depths. It appeared she finally recognized the world of shit we might be in.

"Three . . . two . . ."

Raymond arrived next, a cocky grin pasted on his face.

"I don't know why y'all are acting like a bunch of scared pussies," Conrad snorted as he stood across the room. Conrad's brow arched in challenge as his lackadaisical posture signaled his defiance.

"One."

Turning, I gasped as ten square holes opened in the walls, five on each side. My mouth hung open as ball launchers emerged through the openings.

The machine directly behind Conrad pulled back, and I watched in horror as a ball of fire hurdled through the air in what felt like slow motion until it connected with his arm.

Conrad shrieked, trying to put out the flame. The scent of burning flesh that permeated the room proved he hadn't been fast enough.

"Holy shit," Raymond shouted as Conrad pulled his polo off, desperately attempting to extinguish flames creeping up his limb.

Landry burst into action, pulling off his jacket as he ran toward our friend.

"Now that we understand how this works. Let's get started," said the voice I'd dubbed Jack. The other person was Jim. They both shared a smooth timbre, but one was more smokey than the other. "We're going to play Red Rover."

"I don't remember there ever being fire in that game," I quipped.

A deep chuckle came over the sound system as Landry walked over with a still whimpering Conrad. His arm was raw, and parts of his shirt melted in the flesh. Bile churned in my stomach. That had to be at least a second or third-degree burn. I could see the white of his forearm.

"Now, where's the fun in playing it like we did when we were enfant still on our Maman's teet, cher?" Jim asked. Amusement was clear in his tone.

Jack cut in, "We'll say, Red Rover, Red Rover let, followed by whatever we want to be called over. If you fit what's called, you need to make it to the other side of the floor while you dodge flaming tennis balls."

Raymond's throat cleared. "There weren't no goddamn tennis balls in that game!"

"If you haven't figured it out yet, let me help y'all. We make our own rules, and y'all have to follow them if you want to get out of here alive," Jack snapped. "We decided to marry Red Rover to the game of burn. Now get ready, unless you intend on ending up like the snot-faced asshat who thought his britches were too big to follow simple instructions."

I gulped down my snark and readied myself for whatever came next.

"Red Rover, Red Rover, let purple come over," Jim instructed.

"Fuck," I heard Addie whisper. She was wearing a purple t-shirt.

I peered to my left and right to see if anyone would join her on the run, but she was it.

"You've got this, Addie," I encouraged. I wasn't a fan of hers, but that didn't mean I wanted her dead.

Addie sprinted, dodging ball after ball until she reached the other side. Flames danced past her midair, and initially, I thought she would remain untouched. At the last second, she whimpered as she collided with the wall, touching her hand to her cheek. On it, a blister was forming. The once flawless skin she'd prided herself on having was now singed, like the top of a crème br?lée. "You'll pay for this," she shrieked at the ceiling as tears rolled down her face. But I knew her threats had fallen on deaf ears. What did she really think she could do to the men who had yet to make an appearance?

The fragrance of smoke filled the room. I turned, noticing one of the old curtains had caught fire.

"Aren't you going to put that out?" Landry barked, pointing to the steady flame spreading.

"Nope, and if you don't want to be human s'mores, I'd suggest you shut the fuck up and play. The house will be fine, but you won't," Jack growled.

My heart pounded as smoke filled the room, and I waited for Jim or Jack to give the next command. I'd had a terrible feeling ever since laying eyes on the invitation, and now I knew why. I might not make it out of the Toussaint Manor alive. Jack and Jim were certifiably insane.

"Red Rover, Red Rover, let people with black hair come over," Jim commanded, amusement lacing his voice. This really was all a game to him. My eyes watered from the smoke, and bits of ash floated into the air. The temperature in the room had increased, causing sweat to form on my brow.

Time slowed as my legs pumped, and I prayed I could make it to the other side unscathed. Even the sound was muffled, though I heard Landry call out my name in encouragement. He could go screw himself with Addie's lipstick staining his skin. If we ever made it out, I would have to tell him what I thought.

I peered ahead. I was almost there. Inhaling, I took a few more steps, then shifted my gaze left and right at the familiar whooshing. I dropped to the floor as two balls flew toward me from opposite directions, one aimed at my head and the other at my torso. "Shit," I muttered as I hit the ground with a thud.

"Get up, baby. There's more coming, Harper. You gotta move now," Landry bellowed, and three more tennis balls shot from the wall. That's when I noticed the machines shot not only straight, they adjusted based on our movements.

"For fuck's sake," I snapped and stood. I darted forward, dodging three more balls as sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I screamed when bright orange and yellow flames with the potent scent of gasoline zipped past my nose.

A few more paces to go.

The heat from another fireball whirred by my head, causing me to gasp, and the stench of burning hair hit my nose. I'd never felt more grateful when I made it to the other side, my body colliding into the wall with a thud, and I slid to the floor. Gingerly, I reached up and touched the edge of my singed lock. I could hide it in a ponytail, but it pissed me off.

It could have been worse than just an inch of hair.

Round after round, we played, smoke burning my lungs and eyes. The room was an inferno, and ash danced in the air. Flames consumed everything in their wake, and I wondered how we had managed to stay alive. The blaze had cast everything in an orange glow. Coughing filled the air, adrenaline the only thing keeping me going. Sweat covered my skin from the intensity of the heat.

When would this portion of their game end? We wouldn't survive much more of this. "Last round," Jim stated, answering my unspoken question. I wanted to sigh in relief. It was just Landry, Ray, and me left on this side. We'd all been back and forth a few times.

"Red Rover, Red Rover, let friends of Vi come over," Jack demanded.

I detected a hint of anger at the growl of Vi's name. Did this have to do with her? But there wasn't time to decipher that. I shot from my spot, then ducked and dodged each ball. One flew right in front of my face just as the other side of the room came into focus.

"Ahhh," Raymond wailed. "Help," he pleaded, but as I whirled around from the safety zone and saw him, I knew it was too late.

He'd been pegged three times. Ray's pant leg, shirt, and hair were ablaze, and the balls just kept landing. One flew right into his crotch with such force that he was thrown backward. His head whipped toward us, giving us an unobstructed view as his skin bubbled and then curled, melting away the tissue. Before his next cry, Ray slumped to the floor. Fire covered his entire body like he was nothing more than kindling. His once luxurious hair–gone. The muscular physique he boasted about–melted.

I snatched Landry's jacket and darted forward. "We have to do something. We can't just sit here and watch him burn," I shouted.

Landry's arm wrapped around me, yanking me into his chest. "There's nothing we can do, baby. He's too far gone." I wiped away the tears running down my face. They felt cold compared to the tight dryness of my skin as I watched on in despair. There was no way to save him, and no way out of the room. We all stood frozen as our friend burned, writhing on the floor, desperately attempting to put out the fire consuming his body. His screams would haunt me for eternity, as would the scent of burning flesh and hair. The carpet at the edge of the tile caught on fire as Addie fell to her knees. In a last-ditch effort, as his body went into fight mode, Ray pushed from the ground and dove in our direction, falling five feet from us.

The charred smell was far worse than Conrad's earlier. Raymond's body jerked before going still, the skin left blackened from the fire. Pieces of bone peeked through in places, and a wave of nausea hit me as the crackling sound of his flesh cooking echoed off the walls. It sizzled like the bacon Mawmaw made on Saturday mornings when I slept over.

I had never been close to Raymond, and I wouldn't say I liked his leering gazes, but I had also never wished he died. I turned and emptied the contents of my stomach from the horror of what I had just witnessed just as the door behind us swung open.

Jack's voice played over the sound system. "Congratulations. If you're hearing this, it means you live to play another round. Proceed to the other room or stay and enjoy some barbecue."

Determination steeled my spine, and I walked to the exit, desperate for fresh air. If I wanted to discover why the hell I was here, I needed to live through their twisted games. If I lost, the cost would be my life.