Paris stood in the pantry, looking down at the black square of the basement. Her arms were crossed, holding herself for security. “So...so what now?” she asked.

London came up the ladder, leaving the basement behind hand over hand. “I don't know, honestly.”

Brooklyn looked up the ladder. Behind her, Caitlin's mouth was newly regagged. “Should we run? Just get in the car and go?”

“Huh?” asked Paris. “Leave? B-but...the guys are still out there...”

Brooklyn smiled. “Yeah, exactly! They'll buy us time!” Paris was shocked at this callous statement, but tried not to let her horrified expression show.

Denver's hands were resting on her hips. She looked up at the climbing London, thinking about their situation. “We run, then what? She just follows us. We know she's here, right now. We know she's coming to this cabin to get us. It might not be much of an advantage, but even if we manage to get away tonight, it's an advantage we won't have next time she comes after us. I think it'd be best if we stayed. Made a stand. I ain't scared of a cheerleader.”

Then came a voice that made London freeze in mid-climb. “Hey! Hey! Guys?!” David's voice from the front room.

“Shit, shit, shit,” London whispered. She scrambled up out of the hole. Paris kept watch, looking nervously out the pantry door.

From down in the basement, Denver and Brooklyn could hear the guys stomping around overhead. It would be seconds before they reached the kitchen. There wasn't time for them to get out. “Shit,” echoed Brooklyn.

No one was sure what to do. London cast a glance down the ladder at the candlelit duo, then made a snap decision. She closed the door on them and put the potatoes back on top of it.

Just as she did, David and Henry burst into the kitchen. “Thank god. There you are,” said Henry. He took in the sight of the two girls. “What are you doing in the pantry?”

“Just...” said London, “...looking for more alcohol.”

“Where's Brooklyn and Denver? Are they okay?” asked David, out of breath.

“Y-yeah, they, uh, just went out to get more firewood,” answered Paris.

“Okay? Why wouldn't they be? What happened?” asked London convincingly.

Henry turned pale. He wrapped Paris up in a trembling hug. David was the one who answered. “They're dead! Sydney, Venice, and...and Wikman! There's a crazy cheerleader out there on a bath salts bender!”

“Oh no...” said London, looking concerned. “They're...they're dead? You're sure?”

David held her. “Trust me. Just trust me. It was awful.”

London broke down crying, so he led her out of the kitchen where she could have some privacy. Henry and Paris were left alone in the kitchen.

“This can't be happening...” said Paris, clutching him tightly. “It's horrible. It's a nightmare. It's too much...”

“We'll be fine,” Henry assured her. “I promise I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. I love you.”

Paris bit her lip. “I love you too.” She started to cry, and buried her face in his chest. “I didn't want any of this to happen. I should have stopped this...I should have walked away...but I was too weak...”

“Hey, hey, this isn't your fault. You didn't know some crazy cheerleader would be out here tonight,” said Henry. He thought about what she was saying a little more. “Wait...Paris, what are you trying to say?”

Paris separated from him. She looked down at the kitchen floor, filled with shame and fear. “There's...Henry, please still love me after I tell you.”

“Of course I will.”

Paris started crying again. She put her face in her hands. Even as she collapsed into weeping, she felt elevated. A burden which had been killing her was about to be lifted from her shoulders. “There's...a lot you need to know.”

..........

Brooklyn dangled her legs in the air as she sat on the edge of Caitlin's slab. She leaned back on her palms and sighed. “I'm bored.” Caitlin stared at her in silence, tape over her mouth.

Denver listened to the ceiling. “Wonder what's going on.”

“I wanna go back to the party! Can't we just leave? You can open that door even with those potatoes on it, right?” complained Brooklyn.

“Well, yeah. But we don't know if anybody's in the kitchen or not. We can't run the risk of revealing this place to the guys.”

“Awww,” said Brooklyn. She looked at Caitlin and smiled. “Well, at least Caitlin won't get lonely!” She tapped Caitlin twice on the nose with her pointer finger. Caitlin furrowed her brow, annoyed. “We'll keep each other company! Hee hee!”

Denver walked over to Caitlin and looked down at her. “If there is a cheerleader out there out for blood...I didn't know the cheerleaders looked after their own like that. I didn't think they'd move on us.”

Brooklyn kicked her legs again. “Me either. I thought they were supposed to be kind of catty and, uh, backstabby.”

“Well, I hope this Satan guy likes this girl. I hope he liked the other one, Rebecca. Because from where I'm standing I'm thinking they're not worth the trouble.” After giving Caitlin a final, lingering look, Denver turned her eyes back to the ceiling. “They might be cute, but they're not worth a war.”

“We're ready for anything, Denver,” said Brooklyn brightly. “We're not doing this alone. We have Satan on our side! We've served him faithfully, done so much for him. He'll protect us. I know he will.”

Denver looked at her. She walked around Caitlin's slab, then took Brooklyn's hand and helped her down. “We'll protect each other, too. I...honestly, I don't know much about this Satan stuff. Most of it goes over my head. But you guys are...the only ones who ever accepted me, who ever thought I could be part of something,” she said gruffly. “I'll fight for what you guys gave me. It means too much to me not to.”

“Thanks, Denver,” smiled Brooklyn.

Denver let go, then turned to one of the high basement windows. “I think we can get out that way. Come on, I'll give you a boost.”

..........

“Your parents are gonna freak out when they see this,” said David. He stepped back from the window he'd just finished boarding up and wiped his forehead. He was working up a sweat. A few minutes ago he'd been chopping their gathered firewood into thin pieces that were more suitable for driving a nail through than simple bisected logs. Now he and London were setting about the task of securing the cabin, starting with the bedroom.

London hadn't thought of that. “They'll understand when they hear about this,” she said. But on the inside, she felt a bit nervous. Not about the nail holes her parents would find in their rental cabin: London didn't really care about that. What she was worried about was the basement.

They had reached the point where it was no longer possible to get out of this night without her parents knowing about it. They'd be poking around up here. She knew the volleyball girls would have to clean up the basement and move their operation once her parents started renting this place out again...but that was months away, at the beginning of tourist season. They'd have to clear out of here a lot sooner than she anticipated. A shame. It was the perfect place.

“Where the heck are Brooklyn and Denver?” asked David.

London looked appropriately concerned, then tried to dispel his worry with a joke. “They better get in here quick or they'll be locked out.”

“Maybe we should go look for them. If that cheerleader gets to them-”

“If that cheerleader gets to them, Denver'll kick her ass.” She couldn't let him leave. He was most useful here, where he could protect her.

“I dunno...you didn't see that psycho,” said David, putting down his hammer. “I'd better-”

And then, London played her trump card. She took his hands and pressed her body against his. She cast a flirty look up to his eyes. “They'll be fine. I need you here, David.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” said London.

The fight left David pretty quickly. He kissed her. As their tongues tangled, he guided her to the bed Brooklyn had made. London let him.

“Mmm. Wait,” she said, momentarily coming up for air. She looked at the bed with breathless excitement. “Throw me on it.”

“How?”

“I don't know. Just do it,” she said. “You can be rough.”

So he turned her back to the bed, grabbed her under her ribs, and tossed her on the bed. London landed on her back with a rush of excitement. She had time to peel off her top before David climbed on top of her and their mouths met again.

Through the crack in the bedroom door, Paris watched them for a moment. Then, she quietly closed it and returned to Henry in the kitchen.

“This is as good a time as any,” she said. Her voice was low, and shaking from the strain of fear, anxiety and guilt pulling on it in every direction. “They'll be busy for a while.”

“Good. We should hurry,” said Henry. He seemed far away as he walked to the pantry and moved the potato sack. Paris could see his mind moving a mile a minute as he sought to occupy his hands with something, anything. When Paris told him the truth, he had turned very pale, and his complexion had not yet returned to normal.

Paris approached him uncertainly and put a nervous hand on his shoulder as he crouched, examining the trapdoor. He flinched at her touch. “Henry,” she said. “Thank you for...for sticking with me. After what I told you...you must see me as a monster.”

Henry looked over his shoulder at her. Then back down at the door. His hands were motionless as he considered how to respond. “I love you. I told you I did...and I meant it. No matter what, I'm with you. I don't know how to feel right now beyond that. But I know that much. We're going to figure this out together. And we're going to get out of this.”

“Thank you. Thank you. I love you so much.”

Henry opened the trapdoor. The flickering orange light of dozens of candles lit the portal. It had an infernal, ominous quality that made it look to him like a doorway to hell itself.

When he descended the stairs, he stopped and scanned the room: the candles, the altar, the goat head portrait, with horrified awe. “Christ,” he said, as Paris' footsteps clunked down the ladder behind him. “This is unreal.”

“I wish,” she agreed.

Then, he saw Caitlin. She watched him as he approached her, Paris right behind him.

The couple stopped at her side. Paris and Henry exchanged a glance, then Paris said, “Caitlin...we want to help you. If we take off the duct tape, will you promise not to scream?”

Caitlin stared at her quizzically, then, figuring it wouldn't hurt to see where this was going, slowly nodded. Henry peeled off the tape as gently as he could.

“Nnn. Ow,” she said. Her arms and legs were still bound. She looked from Henry to Paris, then asked, “You told him the truth? What's this about?”

“I couldn't do it without him,” said Paris. “I needed someone in my corner to feel brave enough to come here and do this. I want to get you out of here.”

Caitlin looked skeptical. “Why?”

Paris took a deep breath. She knew they didn't have much time, but she also knew she needed to explain if Caitlin was going to trust her.

“Caitlin, I didn't want any of this to happen.” She felt emotions bubbling up. She had already cried when she told this to Henry. She'd cried a lot over the course of this night. She previously figured that was it, she got it out of her system. But no, the tears came again. “I...at first I thought it was just a stupid game. They said if we followed Satan that we'd be rewarded. We'd be rewarded with luck, athletic prowess, long-lasting youth and beauty. The team meant a lot to me. I figured I'd play along. It started with small stuff. Rites and spells. B-but then things started getting more serious. They started talking about sacrifices. Then they did it. I was shocked, but...by that point it was too late. I couldn't get out. I was too scared of what they'd do if I tried to leave the team.”

She looked at Henry. “Go ahead.”

Henry produced a knife from his pocket. He dutifully cut Caitlin's ropes. Caitlin sat up on the edge of the bed, scratching her rope-irritated wrists. She said nothing, not sure what to believe.

“Go find your squadmate,” said Paris. “Tell her you escaped.”

Caitlin looked at her. “I was serious when I told you I didn't think I could stop her.”

Paris' mouth felt dry. She swallowed nothing. “I know,” she said in a trembling voice. “When Chase comes here...when she does whatever she's going to do...to the others...” A fresh gush of tears came forth. “Don't tell her about me and Henry. Let her think the others are the only ones involved. We're going to run too. Then we'll be free...both from Chase and from my teammates. That's all I ask.”

Caitlin stared at her a long time. She wasn't conscious of it, but she observed and listened to Paris with ears and eyes unknowingly trained by sixteen years of living with a police officer as a mom. Without knowing it, she searched for signs that Paris was lying. And when Paris was done explaining, Caitlin was satisfied that she was telling the truth.

Or, at least, Paris' version of the truth. The truth that she believed. She felt she wasn't as responsible as the others for what happened, that she was a victim in this too. It certainly seemed likely. Caitlin would probably classify Denver as a victim as well, just based on what she'd observed. But could you be both a victim and a perpetrator? These girls were taken advantage of...but they were still accomplices to multiple murders. Fear and self preservation...was that an acceptable motive to aid in a murder? What about mental incapacity? She understood. She sympathized with Paris. But she just didn't know. Well, that was what the law was for. Morality could just be too complicated for one person to puzzle out.

It was irrelevant at that moment, whatever the case. She didn't think Paris, and certainly not Henry, deserved to die. And she didn't want Chase to kill her. She didn't want Chase to carry that moral burden.

“How do I get out?” asked Caitlin calmly.

Henry looked at the basement window that Brooklyn and Denver left open. “I'll give you a leg up.”