Free The Assassin Game by Kirsty McKay

whacked, you stay whacked. Honor system.”
    â€œThat’s right, Marcia.” Rick nods. “And remember, everyone, dead men don’t talk. You know who did you, you keep mum on pain of excommunication from the Guild.”
    Alex smiles again. “You manage to stay alive? Different matter. It’s all about finding the Killer. We meet here every weekend for a Summoning. We hang out. We talk—”
    â€œWe par-tay!” Roger, one of the Journeymen, shouts, and everyone cheers.
    â€œWe vote.” Alex’s words cut through the revelry. “Every weekend, everyone still in the Game casts a vote. If you know who the Killer is, write the name down. If you don’t, write something else down—Mickey Mouse, Ezra, or ‘I don’t know.’” He claps a hand to his chest. “I read the votes. I’m the only one who gets to see. If you guess right, the Killer is exposed, you win. You guess wrong, you’re dead and out of the game.”
    Rick picks up the ball again. “The Killer can Kill as often or as little as they want, but don’t be a mug and bore us to death. Make your Kills entertaining. Give us something to talk about.” He looks down at us, struggling to cross his muscled arms over his broad chest. “Yes, if you can get your victim on their own, you can do anything you want—shoot ’em with a water pistol, stab them with a rubber knife, whatever. But it’s much more fun to do stuff in public. I know—I know we’re not supposed to let the Game be ‘disruptive to school life’”—he flicks his stubby fingers as quotation marks—“but give us all a show, won’t you? It’s what we deserve.”
    The Elders and Journeymen all laugh in agreement.
    â€œDon’t go slapping little red skull stickers on people!”
    â€œDon’t be that doof that puts a note on someone’s desk saying ‘Boom!’”
    â€œIf the Killer IMs me with ‘You’re Dead,’ I’m totally giving them up.”
    â€œOh no, that’s been done and doner!”
    Marcia cuts in, “We outlawed that one officially. It’s a yawn. Check your book.”
    â€œYeah, read it thoroughly,” Alex intones. “No-nos are all in the book—paint guns, no; fireworks, no. No computer viruses and nothing that’s going to hurt anyone or give Ezra cause to call the antiterrorist squad. Keep it classy. Put an alarm clock in a hollowed-out book or pop a friggin’ balloon, but don’t get our Game stopped, or you lose, big time.” He waggles a finger at us.
    Marcia winds her hair into a thick rope with one hand. “The only major rule we haven’t mentioned is that Killing more than one person at a time is not allowed; you’re a serial Killer, not a mass murderer. Other than that, go crazy.”
    I’m beginning to get serious anxiety that I’ll be the Killer. What pressure.
    Alex continues, “So be safe, be clever, and be exclusive. And remember, although your victim is sworn to secrecy, the best Killers are secret. It’s so much more satisfying if you can be the ninja you were born to be and get in and out without being seen.”
    Rick glares at us. “Questions?”
    â€œNope. Crystal clear, m’dear.” Becky smiles at Rick. I almost laugh out loud as he struggles not to melt under her gaze.
    â€œWhat if no one guesses the Killer?” Beside me, Emily stretches her long legs out on the rug.
    Alex checks out her legs, then answers her. “The Game goes on until there are only three people left, Killer included. A final Summoning and vote is scheduled at the earliest opportunity. The Killer then has to choose to try and Kill the others quickly before the Summoning or take their chances—go to the final vote and hope nobody guesses it’s them.”
    We all take this in. I make a promise to myself that I’ll be in the