The celebrities are eating cold beans from the tin, huddled under the tarp. A storm rolls in. Lightning illuminates the fortress.
Suddenly, a trapdoor in the courtyard floor swings open. A gust of foul, sulfurous air rises. A scroll tied to a goat horn tumbles out. The celebrities are eating cold beans from the
She climbs in. The lid closes. Darkness. The leeches wriggle. Dr. Elias watches clinically: “Her heart rate is elevated, but she’s using deep breathing. Fascinating.” Vicky screams once—a guttural, theatrical shriek—then surfaces with the key in her teeth. She spits it into Theo’s hand. “Someone light my cigarette. And get me a martini. I don’t care if you have to invent it.” The celebrities are eating cold beans from the