Chapter 2
[Players currently alive: 10.]
The announcement rolled through the manor. I opened my door and stepped out, and Grace and Ben were standing outside Room 205, talking.
Exactly as everyone had expected, Scarface was the one who was gone.
"What's going on?" I asked.
The scent of blood lingered in the hallway.
"Scarface is gone. There is nothing on that bed but a pool of blood. His roommate swears he never left the room after he came back last night, and this morning he was just gone," Grace said, frowning.
Last night, Scarface barged into Room 205 with a knife, kicked out the timid young guy, and the poor guy had to spend the whole night in the hallway.
"So the room is not the point."
I caught Lily muttering it behind me, barely loud enough to hear.
A second later, she was back to being small and skittish.
The young guy from the hallway said he had been wound tight all night. He heard footsteps, and then he was out cold, and he did not remember anything after that.
"Good morning, honored guests. Breakfast is served," Silas called from the first floor.
Grace reached out an arm and stopped everyone in front of her. "Nobody eat anything yet."
"What if not eating is what kills us?" I asked.
Nobody was getting between me and a hot meal.
"They never found Scarface's body. Last night Silas said there was nothing in the house to cook with, and this morning there is. Does that not strike any of you as strange?" Grace said.
Everyone nodded, and they all understood exactly what she meant.
We took our seats at the table without a word.
Silas rolled a cart out of the kitchen and served each of us. "This morning we have steak and pasta, prepared to Mrs. Blackwood's taste."
"Will Mrs. Blackwood be joining us for breakfast?" somebody asked.
"Mr. Blackwood will be down shortly," Silas answered, and he gave me a polite smile as he said it.
Everyone traded looks and pushed the steak around with a knife and fork, and not one person put any of it in their mouth.
Except me. I was going at it.
Grace kept shooting me looks, then leaned in and whispered, "That is meat. Do not eat it."
I gave her a puzzled look, because I already knew it was meat.
Two heavy steps landed on the staircase.
A man came down it with a smooth, unhurried stride. He was tall, around six feet three, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the air around him went cold and heavy.
He walked toward the dining table, and every step was deliberate.
Everyone froze, their breathing stopping, terrified of being picked next.
He stopped as he passed me and looked at how focused I was on my plate. He bent down and asked, "Is it good?"
His low, unfairly attractive voice carried across the whole dining room.
"So good. Boo." I heard myself and hauled it back. "Boss."
He gave me a small smile, threw an irritated glance at Grace, and put his mouth next to my ear. "If it's good, have more."
With every shocked and suspicious stare in the room on me, I awkwardly kept eating.