Page 68 of The Executioners Three
Suddenly, her heart was beating very fast. She felt dizzy too, and she greatly regretted skipping breakfast (again). She also wished Kyle would turn down the heat.
“Alright,” she told Cat and Kyle once they were parked. “You know what to do. Dorms, bathrooms, and if you’re still uncaught, call—”
“Cat’s cousin,” Kyle interrupted with a grin. “He’s on bystand right now.”
Cat sighed. “He means standby.”
“Oh yeah.” Kyle laughed. “That too.”
And Freddie couldn’t help but laugh with him, the precious little airhead. “Alright. When everything is done, call me.” She waved Sabrina at them. “And also, if there is any troubleat all,call me.”
“Aye, aye, Prank Wizard!” Cat saluted, and they all piled out. While Kyle opened his trunk and handed out supplies, Freddie tugged her new cap low. A duffle and a backpack for Cat, two massive trash bags for Kyle, and a final duffle (in bright leprechaun green) for Freddie. All of the bags were distinctly cubical, thanks to the crates of crickets within, but like the uniforms, the disguises werejustgood enough to hopefully pass muster.
And fortunately, as long as the crickets were being jostled about, they were silent. “See you soon,” Freddie whispered, then she waited until Cat and Kyle were out of sight toward the dorms before setting off herself.
She could already see a blond figure lounging like a Gap model against a lamppost near the mausoleum’s gardens. Freddie gulped. And gulped again, telling herself those weren’t butterflies in her stomach—they were just the residual hum of crickets.
For the first ten steps, the freezing morning air was a relief, but by the time Freddie reached the gardens and hedges, she was numb to her core. These blazers were not good for warmth.
Theo didn’t seem to notice Freddie’s approach. He was staring at hisshoes, hands in his pockets. His face looked marginally better than the day before, in that the swelling had reduced. And against Freddie’s greatest desire, she was forced to admit that “beat up” worked unfairly well on Theo Porter. He looked Very Bad Indeed, and with the mausoleum wreathed in morning fog behind him, he might as well have been posing for the opening shot of a new horror film.
All of it was spotless too. Theo and the other students had done a great job cleaning the Prank Squad’s mess, and Freddie couldn’t decide if she was sad to see her handiwork so easily erased… or relieved because she reallywasa Good Girl in the end.
“Nice job cleaning,” she called as she strode around a trimmed rosebush and low yew hedge.
Theo jerked off the lamppost, his expression turning mildly aghast as he took in Freddie’s uniform. Then he tipped his head sideways and peered beneath her cap’s bill. “Gellar? Is that you in there?”
“Barely,” she admitted. “This uniform is meant for different proportions, I fear.” She flicked at the heavy-duty safety pin.
And Theo’s cheeks reddened. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Where did you, uh, even find that getup?”
“A magician never tells her secrets.” Freddie hefted the duffle bag higher on her shoulder. “Can I get that key card, please?”
“About that.” He sauntered backward, aiming toward the mausoleum with a lazy shrug. “I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to run pell-mell through my library.”
“I wouldneverrun in a library, Mr. Porter.”
He smiled—just a flicker. “Be that as it may, you can’t get access without me beside you.”
Ah. That would not work well for Mission Release Crickets. Freddie hopped after him. “What would it take to change your mind?”
“Nonnegotiable.”
“Everyone has a price.”
“Not me.” He smiled again, but this one did not reach his eyes. “So do you want access or not?” He slowed to a stop before the mausoleum. His hand rested on the marble sign, thumb tapping just overLe pouvoir réside dans le service.
(InThe Curse of Allard Fortin, Edgar Fabre had actually pointed to thisquote on the mausoleum as proof that José had cursed his three servants. Because sure, Eddie! Makes total sense.)
“What about first period?” Freddie countered. “You would just skip class?”
“You aren’t the only rebel around here.”
This argument made no sense, although Freddie couldn’t pinpoint the exact fallacy. “Itoldyou, though, Mr. Porter: the library isn’t part of our prank. I’m just doing research in there.”
“And why should I trust you?” His fingers stilled on the sign. Behind him, one of the busts of José Allard Fortin seemed to be glaring. “I barely know you, Gellar.”
Freddie matched the Fortin glare. She and Theo had exchanged saliva two days ago; that ought to count for something. But she also couldn’t just stand here in the cold, wasting precious moments of her stolen time. “Fine, Mr. Porter. You win.” Freddie thrust out her hand.
