He pauses for effect, smiles. “Cortes knew about the ritual. My aunt did. And now I do. And once I sacrifice Gries, the world’s my oyster.”

“Take their hearts and sacrifice them to the Tree,” I quote softly, “and you will find eternity within the dream.”

“My aunt died trying to discover the god’s secret. No doubt those grotesque balete had been warped in her image. So you see, kid, like you, I am very much invested in helping your god achieve his dreams—quite literally. I came to the Godseye to help him. The fuck do I need another documentary when I can gain so much more?”

“Someone pushed Galant into the sinkhole,” Gries said. “He said so before he lost consciousness.”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry for him. Steve was a rich ass who had too much of Daddy’s money to play with, and if anyone deserved death it was him. Who did you think leaked that shit about him in the first place?” Hemslock’s grin is vicious. “No one’s going to cry over an old rich pedosadist who’s had an accident in some far-off island whose name no one can spell. But his death will ensure that everyone knows about this show. About me. You’re going to get a huge bump in visitors, kid. The sixth to lure. I was rather pleased with myself when I figured that out. Your god’s all for the ratings.”

“And then Karl,” Gries says with growing understanding, and horror. “He was your friend.”

“Karl was a blessing in disguise. If the god was willing to grab him, then that’s one less problem off my plate. You saw him staggering around, drunk as hell. He’s a lost cause. He ran over some chick he’d been sleeping with when she wouldn’t let him go. Don’t know how he was still able to function. His own demons have been eating at him for so long. Get it? Seventh to consume?” Hemslock chortles, but of the group only he finds this funny. “I couldn’t exactly leave him to his fate when the cameras were trained on us, so I made my contribution more compelling—by killing him first chance I got. A shame, though. First time I’d ever seen him that sober, even if he was spouting all that preachy nonsense.”

“And you mean to make Dad the last sacrifice,” Chase says angrily.

“Eight to wake. Kind of a poetic justice. Your dad’s been asleep ever since your mom died. He lost all his edge. The last few shows have been utter flops. No one thinks he’s got the touch anymore. He used to be so—unapologetic. Vicious.”

“You mean he shirked people out of money for profit,” Chase says flatly. “He cost people jobs while giving himself and others like him bonuses for laying them off. He ruined his marriage out of selfishness.”

“I didn’t see you complaining when you were enjoying his wealth, boy.”

“He changed after Mom died.”

“And look where that’s gotten him. Poor ratings and bad decisions. You’re his son. Of course you’d defend him. But no one likes weakness in Hollywood. No one will miss your father.”