Em couldn’t respond. The air had been knocked out of her by the short fall to the ground.
Ty went on, “You see? We aren’t so different, you and I. I see it, even if Ali and Meg don’t. Even if you don’t. We two, we’ll do anything to get the things that we want. We aren’t so different . . .” Ty repeated once more. And then, just like that, she vanished.
Em hauled herself to her feet and hunched over, cradling her left arm—the one that was bleeding. As Em heaved for breath, Drea emerged from downstairs.
“There you are,” Drea said. And then, as she came closer and caught sight of Em, “Oh my god! What happened?”
“They . . . they were here,” she croaked out. “Ty was here. I saw her.”
Drea nodded grimly. “I saw one of them too. The one who wears that red ribbon around her neck.” Drea scanned Em with concern. “Which one of them did this to you? I hope you at least got to throw a good punch.”
“I don’t think I did much damage,” Em said wearily. “It was Ty. What about you? Did you talk to her? Did she say anything?” Em followed behind Drea as they walked to the car. Every few steps she checked compulsively over her shoulder, as though Ty might materialize at any second.
They got into the car, both of them careful to close and lock their doors behind them. “She asked me if I was going to the Spring Fling,” Drea said with a nervous laugh. “If I had a date. Then . . .” She broke off, picking at her fingernails and looking sidelong at Em.
“What? What did she say, Drea?” Em prodded.
“She said that they had special plans for you, Em. That I should watch out for you.” Drea looked at Em now, searching her face as though trying to measure her reaction. They stared at each other.
“So what should we do about it?” she asked. They were losing time to come up with a plan.
Drea shook her head and started the car. “I don’t know, Em. I think . . . I think this is bigger than we thought. I think the banishment ritual needs to happen as soon as possible. I think it’s . . . I think you . . .” She didn’t finish her thought, and worry fell between them like a boulder. Em contemplated telling Drea now about Sasha’s connection to the Furies.
They drove home in tense silence.
In Em’s driveway Drea fiddled with her snake pendant, still not speaking. Em reached down to gather her things. “That’s weird,” she blurted out. Her arm wasn’t bleeding anymore. In fact, the marks Ty had left seemed to have practically healed.
“What?” Drea asked.
“I just . . . I could have sworn that Ty scratched me and broke the skin,” Em said, putting her arm out so Drea could see. “I was bleeding. But now . . . it’s, like, fine.”
“Weird.” Drea’s voice sounded strangled. She put the car into reverse. “I’m sorry, Em. I gotta go. I have to get home.” Em nodded and got out of the car. She had to step quickly to the side to avoid getting hit as Drea peeled out of the driveway.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
On Thursday afternoon after school Skylar took Aunt Nora’s bicycle from the garage and rode it to the Haunted Woods, praying that no one would see her along the way. When she got there, the ground had refrozen where the mud had been, leaving craggy peaks and valleys on the forest floor. Everything was still, silent, and full of winter ache.
She’d realized during the week that she had no idea what had happened to her special watch, the silver one her mother had given to both her and Lucy. She hated the memories attached to it, but at the same time, she couldn’t bear to lose it. Sometimes she wondered if she kept it out of familial loyalty or because she felt a sick desire to preserve the memories of the bad times. Wearing that watch was like a constant reminder not to feel guilty about what had happened.
That watch served a purpose.
She knew it was out here somewhere. The last time she’d seen it was right before she fell.
Skylar walked along a sun-dappled path that looked like the one they’d followed last Friday, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. She spotted mottled leaves, scarred sections of tree root, and brownish moss blanketing fallen logs. But no watch. The woods were brittle and motionless, drawn back into an early spring frost. Skylar pulled her knit gray hat farther over her ears and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her pink flared peacoat, which had been Nora’s in the 1970s.