Every nerve in Em’s body was screaming for her to run away. Her skin was tingling; her breath was shaky.
“Come on, Em.” Drea was insistent. They were both drenched.
With tentative steps, Em allowed Drea to lead her to what looked like small stone sculptures. No.
Not sculptures. Tombstones.
Three dark tablets, each marked with a carving of a flower. Em instinctively drew back. She knew those flowers. They were the same intricate orchids that the Furies carried. “What—what are these?” she whispered to Drea.
“Graves,” Drea said grimly, as though that wasn’t obvious.
Em’s mind flashed back to Skylar’s story—or rather, Skylar’s aunt’s story—about the three women who had died or been killed in Ascension’s woods. Three women. Three stone graves. Three Furies.
“Something bad is going to happen soon,” Em whispered. “I can feel it.”
“Something bad is already happening,” Drea said, her voice strained, as it had been in the car. “Let’s get out of here.”
Back in Em’s car, they let an uneasy silence fall between them. Visions of crimson orchids ran through Em’s mind—the one Ali had handed her in Boston, the one Skylar had had pinned to her dress the other night, the ones adorning those headstones back in the woods. The ones that meant you were . . . marked. In her mind, the flowers merged with images from Sasha’s book, and with the stuff of pure imagination. Cauldrons. Bonfires. Sacrifice.
“Here,” Drea said, breaking the quiet as she fished something out of her pocket. Em’s breath caught in her ribs as Drea produced a gold-and-red snake pin from her jacket. “For protection. I noticed you lost yours.”
Em reached out to take it, her hands still shaking. Here was Drea, trying to save another one of her friends from the Furies. Like two magnets with the same charge put together, something seemed to be pushing her hand away from the pin. As she made contact with the metal, she felt a sharp pain in her palm. She gasped, and the pin fell onto to the seat below.
“What’s the matter?” Drea’s tone was sharp.
“I—I must have pricked myself,” Em said, examining her hand. In the center of her palm was a deep-red mark and a bubble of blood forming where the pin had stabbed her. She wiped it away, leaving a bloody smear that led down to her wrist. She ignored the throbbing in her hand and stuffed the pin in her jeans pocket, Drea’s eyes watching her closely. The rest of the ride home the pin stuck into her hip uncomfortably. Like a cramp, it was impossible to ignore.
So when she got home, she threw it hastily into the back of her T-shirt drawer. Obviously, this good luck charm wasn’t going to work for her any better than it had worked for Sasha.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The idea had come to Skylar late last night: The dance ticket proceeds would go to the school activity budget, as usual, but the school could hold an additional raffle to raise money for the suicide prevention group Gabby had started in the wake of Sasha’s and Chase’s deaths.
The next morning she met with Mrs. Keough, a health teacher and Ascension’s social activities adviser. “It’s all well and good to talk about a suicide prevention club,” Skylar said, furrowing her brow, “but what’s the point if there’s no money to fund it?” She’d arranged her face to look both innocent and concerned, and Keough had gone for it.
The announcement was made over the loudspeaker during homeroom: “Tickets are on sale today for the annual Spring Fling a week from Friday. We’ve got a great theme this year, courtesy of new student Skylar McVoy—so get your Smoke and Mirrors tattoo tickets while you can! And if you see Skylar in the halls today, thank her for organizing the first-ever Spring Fling raffle! Buy a raffle ticket for an extra five dollars and be entered to win a mystery prize! All raffle proceeds will go to the recently formed Ascension High Suicide Prevention Group. In other news, there’s a swim meet today at . . .”
Skylar floated through the next few periods, feeling as though she was coasting on a cloud. Everyone—even juniors and seniors—smiled at her in the halls. In French, Jenna passed her a note: Want to hang out after school? The group of senior girls whom Skylar had noticed on her first day at Ascension—mostly field hockey players, with long, straight blond hair and equally good-looking lacrosse-playing boyfriends—approached her between third and fourth periods.
“Hey, you’re Skylar, right?” said one of them. “I’m Jess. Awesome job with the dance and everything.”
Skylar laughed like it was no big deal. “Oh, thanks,” she said, letting her drawl drag out more than usual. She thought it made her sound more casual. “I’m just trying to bring some southern hospitality up north!”