Eric looks up from the papers he’s reading.
I want him to speak up. He’s become a shell of himself. But he looks between us before staring up at the clock wall.
“There’s a message embedded on the sheet of paper,” he says.
We all look at him in shock. No one actually thought there would be one.
Standing up, he shoves the single-page parchment note to the center of the table. It reads in pencil:One house, divided falls.
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a blue light and a bottle of liquid. He sprays it, then runs the light over the surface.
We lean in close. It says:
Sacrifice the one, deny the four, kneel the Sentinels, the eight to fight.
The enemy is among us, House of Eights
Rett and I exchange a look. The dreams we’ve been having repeat the first two lines. My heart drums in my chest.
The enemy? Eight fight, deny four.
“There are four people in this room who shouldn’t be here,” I say out loud, more to myself than anyone else.
Four enemies… among us.
Holy damn moly.
Everyone starts talking over each other.
Free will at its finest.
“Conspiracy theories are now known as spoiler alerts,” Laird says next to me.
Eric tries to get everyone to shut up, but no one is listening.
“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears,” I say, putting my hands out in mock command. “Shut the hell up and listen. Go ahead, Eric.”
“Doesn’t it make sense? House of Eights. Eight members. What if… what if, over time, four more people were planted in the ranks to stop the original eight from doing what they needed to?”
Who is it… who are the traitors here?
Hart crosses his arms. “I agree.”
I’m looking at my fellow members differently now. Is it Mya, who is openly defiant? Ellis, who acts like it’s all a joke? Hart,who takes control? Even with their faults, I can’t wrap my head around it.
“How the hell do we weed out the enemy?” Soren asks.
Good fucking question.
“Not to alarm everyone, but is anyone else worried about how fucking stupid this is?” Mya asks, rolling her eyes. “What’s the best way to divide a house? Plant suspicions. That letter was meant to stop us from getting anything done.”
The rest of our meeting is spent going over updates on the virus. Getting the student listing from 1988 is still a work in progress, and the winter break trip is going to be tricky.
“You need to be careful about Bizzy,” Ripp says to me before we leave for the night.
“Mmm… jealousy is an ugly thing, Ripp. Do we need to worry about whether you’re a traitor?”
He hangs his head before speaking softly, “She’s playing games. She’s not who or what you think she is. Just… be careful, okay?”
