She forced herself to walk farther into the house.
The stairway banister was singed and crumbling. She could practically see the flames licking at the mahogany, the heat engulfing the staircase. Her toes curled in her boots. There were no dirty footprints on the stairs. No sign of Ali or Ty or Meg. But there was still the second floor—maybe there were clues up there.
Ever so lightly, she put her foot on the bottom step. Then, with deliberate motions, she climbed upward, taking only the shallowest breaths, trying to make as little sound as possible. She prayed the stairway wasn’t rotten; she imagined it collapsing underneath her weight, sending her tumbling into a pile of splintered wood and fire-ravaged debris.
At the landing she paused, debating which way to go. She thought she saw a light turn quickly on and off in a room to her right. Her first instinct was to run. But she clenched her fists and stepped cautiously forward.
“Who’s there?” Her voice was shaky. She cleared her throat.
She went into the room where she’d seen the light. Nothing. Had she imagined it? For a moment she saw herself as someone else would: alone, in a strange, dark, fire-damaged house in the middle of winter, looking for ghosts.
The Furies will drive you crazy.
Turn around, she told herself. Turn around and go back to the party. But she couldn’t. She was still overwhelmed by the presence of evil nearby.
There was a scuffling noise behind her. Em whirled around, terrified, her breath catching in her throat and her arms going up as if she would defend herself.
An enormous rat, its long tail dragging through the dust on the wooden floor, scurried out of the room.
Em recoiled, then released her breath, letting her arms drop to her sides. She went back into the hall, which was dimly lit by a large, half-moon window set high in one wall. Turning to look behind her after every step, she walked farther into the house. Her footsteps echoed as her boots fell against the old floorboards. There, in front of her, was a closed door. She reached out, her fingers shaking as they neared the smooth metal doorknob.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
Em spun around, her heart pounding.
Ty had materialized behind her, between Em and the stairs. She was watching Em with calm, wide eyes.
“You did something to your hair.” Stupidly, it was the only thing that Em could think to say.
Ty smiled. “I wanted it to be like yours,” she said. “You know, you really have a lot going for you, Em. You should be enjoying yourself instead of obsessing over me. I know we’re having fun.”
“I’m sure you are,” Em shot back.
“It was wonderful of Sasha to invite us back to Ascension!” Ty said with sickly false innocence. “There are so many interesting people here. There always have been. . . .”
“Is that why you’re here? Because of Sasha?” Em asked. She thought of the book about the Furies—the one Crow had said was in Sasha’s possession when she died. Had she somehow conjured them?
“Right now I’m here to chat with you,” Ty purred. “It doesn’t seem like you have many people to talk to right now.” The pout on her face made Em’s fingers clench into fists.
“You’ve turned JD against me,” she said, looking anxiously behind Ty, trying to gauge whether or not she could slip by her, down the stairs, out into the night.
“JD? Oh,” Ty said, her voice fluttering with laughter. “Funny how people’s memories are so malleable, isn’t it? Because I remember that you ditched him on the night of the pep rally so you could meet up with someone more your speed. And I also remember that you told him he had no chance with you. I think he remembers that too.” She gave Em a knowing smile. So these were the fictions the Furies had told JD.
For a moment Em saw through Ty’s beautiful exterior. The . . . figure standing before her was hideous, old, withered, with eyes like coal. Em felt herself choking at the horror of it. “You took the only thing that mattered,” Em croaked out. The room seemed to be pulsing, wavering in and out.
Ty shook her head and looked vaguely troubled. “We don’t take,” she said. “You choose.”
“You punish people,” Em said, growing increasingly angry. She felt like there was black smoke inside her, billowing, slowly settling in her veins. “You punish people even when they’re sorry for what they did. Even when they want to take it back.”
“Ah.” A small, sad smile played on Ty’s lips. “But you can’t take it back, can you? Isn’t that the lesson to learn?”
“It’s not up to you to play teacher,” Em shot back. There were only three feet between her and Ty. If she took one step forward, she could touch her. Em felt the urge to lunge for Ty’s neck.
“The world is a very unfair place,” Ty said, a calm coming over her face. “We just want justice.”