Tyrone swallows, and then says, “I didn’t try as hard as I could have. In the beginning, I thought it was fun. Exciting. I thought I was researching my game. Then . . . once Richelle showed up . . . I didn’t try as hard as I might have. It was a chance to . . . to see her. To be with her.”

We’re all quiet for a moment. I turn to Jackson. “You’ve been here the longest. Why is your score so low?”

He gives that lazy shrug I’m coming to recognize. “Guess I’m not very good,” he says, lying through his teeth. He’s good. Better than good. He’s making a choice to keep his score low, and I want to know why. Suddenly, it feels like the most important question of all.

“Do you get points when you use your knife?”

“We jump in thirty,” he says.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Will you, now?” He offers a close-lipped smile. “Game on, Miki Jones.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

WE’RE PULLED INTO COOL, DAMP DARKNESS SO COMPLETE that I can’t make out even the hint of a shadow. Fear flicks its forked tongue. Palms damp, breath coming too fast, I stand perfectly still, waiting for my eyes to adjust, but as the seconds tick past, I realize they aren’t going to. We are entombed in utter darkness, and the only thing that tells me I’m not alone is the rasp of someone else’s breathing.

There’s a snapping sound, like a twig being broken in two, and then a greenish light illuminates a ring about five feet in diameter. I’m inside the ring, along with Jackson, who’s holding a phosphorescent wand that looks like a pregnant version of the glow sticks you get at concerts. I can just make out the shapes of Luka and Tyrone a few feet away, at the far edges of the ring. It’s Luka who’s breathing rough and hard, and after a second I realize that I’m there right along with him. I need to slow it down before anxiety turns to full-on panic. Deliberately, I do my thing: breathe in, hold, breathe out.

On the next inhale, I notice that wherever we are, it smells like sulfur and damp rock and something slightly unpleasant and halfway familiar: Kelley’s hamster cage.

A quick glance around reveals little. My field of view is restricted by the light of Jackson’s glow stick. I can make out walls and a floor of stone. I’m guessing the ceiling is more of the same, but I can’t see it. The light fades away into claustrophobic darkness before it hits the top of the cave. Cavern. Tunnel. Whatever. The hamster cage smell takes on new meaning. Is that bat guano?

In a distant recess of my brain I hear a whisper, just as I did in the alley in Las Vegas: enemy. Something’s out there, hiding beyond the ring of light. Instinct tells me far beyond it. The threat isn’t imminent, the feeling of horror just a whimper rather than a roar.

I make a hand motion at my lips, asking if it’s safe to speak. Jackson leans close and I whisper against his ear, “Where are we?”

He turns his head and whispers back, “In a cave.” He’s smiling. I can hear it. Pushing my buttons has become one of his favorite pastimes.

I take a deep breath and clench my fists by my sides, but at the same time, the knot of tension inside me eases a little. He wouldn’t be teasing if we were about to be attacked. “And where is this cave?” I whisper, syrup sweet.

“Puerto Rico. It’s one of the largest cave systems in the world. We’re in an isolated part of the system that hasn’t been mapped.”

Getting that answer was easier than expected. I gesture at the glow stick. “Won’t the light give us away?”

“Our arrival gave us away.” He’s not whispering anymore. “We might as well be able to see.”

Well, that’s comforting.

“Our arrival gave us away, like it did in Vegas?” I ask, remembering what Tyrone told me that first night.

“Yeah,” Tyrone says. “But there aren’t a lot of people here to mask us, so we’ve been dropped farther. Less chance the Drau’ll be able to pinpoint us. And once we’re here, the con scrambles our signal. Makes it tough for them to get a lock. But we’re in for a bit of a hike.”

I look over at Jackson. “Why not just drop us right on top of them? The advantage of surprise, you know?”

“They don’t publicize their exact location,” he says. “We know the general vicinity. Our cons don’t get a lock on them until we’re dropped in.”

“So we’re dropped in blind? Sort of knowing where we’re going, but not really?”

He shrugs. “Once we’re here, the con figures out the rest of it.”

Yet more comforting information.

“In Vegas, if the Drau knew we were there even before we went inside, why didn’t they attack?” I ask. “Why didn’t they come out into the alley to get us?”

“They don’t want to risk being seen. Not yet. They aren’t ready for humanity to know they’re here. They’d rather face us in confined spaces and”—he sweeps one hand before him, indicating our surroundings—“underground caverns where there are no human eyes to see them and alert the world.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Humanity will be easier to kill if they don’t know what’s coming.”

I shudder, horrified by that. “Why don’t we tell someone then?”