Someone who looked just like me.
A chill slithered down Em’s spine. She had that feeling again, the one like flickering. The one like smoke. “I wasn’t here,” she said again, more forcefully this time. “I’m here now.” She dug her fingernails into her own palm, proving it to herself.
“Whatever, Em,” Gabby said. “It’s okay. We can talk about it later. I’m just glad you’re okay. You just took off . . . like a total madwoman.” She hooked her arm through Em’s.
“God,” Fiona said, looking at Em wonderingly. “You look good. . . . I mean, you sober up quick. I wish we could trade places. Whenever I get that messed up I look like a mug shot.”
Em wobbled slightly and let herself lean on Gabby. With dread that loomed like shadows on a cave wall, she began to acknowledge exactly what type of bargain she’d made with Ty. From the hair to the sharpened senses to the cases of mistaken identity, a horrifying truth was starting to take shape. It wasn’t only that Em was becoming a Fury. Ty was trying to take over her life at the same time.
They were going to switch places.
? ? ?
Em lied. She told her friends that her mom was coming to pick her up and that she was going to wait outside. Really, she just started walking. She stumbled through the basement toward the stairs, trying to keep her blinders on and see nothing but the path in front of her.
“You wanna show us again how you blow those smoke rings?” Alex got right in her face, but she pushed him away, hearing the thud as he hit the wall behind him. She’d pushed too hard. She’d forgotten how strong she was now, how powerful.
“What the hell . . . ,” he snarled at her as he brushed himself off.
“Somebody’s gotta get Winters into a ring,” someone called out.
She shook her head, a frantic apology. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m didn’t mean to.” She pitched up the staircase, twisting and turning her body to fit it through the spaces between people.
She kept walking when she got outside. Walking away. Down Main Street, away from Noah’s house in the middle of town, past the library and the gourmet food store and the dusty old copy shop that had been open forever. Tears swelled somewhere at the back of her eyes.
She didn’t have much time. Not much longer until she joined the ranks of the Furies. What did that even mean? She would seek vengeance for other people’s crimes. She would grow bloodthirsty, drunk on the feeling of making the guilty pay. So intoxicated, in fact, that she would keep torturing them long after they’d paid for their sins.
No. That wasn’t who she was. It would never be.
She looked up at the sky, not watching where she was going, half-wishing she would fall into a hole and not be able to make her way out. Lost and not found.
Swish-swish-swish. The whirring of bicycle tires sounded behind her and Em moved over to make way on the sidewalk. But rather than passing her by, the cyclist skidded to a stop right next to her. Em looked over and saw Skylar, panting from exertion.
“I’m fine,” Em said with an edge, wondering if Skylar had been sent to check on her. “Everyone can call off the rescue mission.”
Skylar swung her leg over the bike seat to dismount. “I’m just coming home from the movies,” she said. “Late show.” She looked up at Em through long, light brown lashes; without heels on, she seemed tiny.
“Sorry.” Em crossed her arms. She felt bad that Skylar was the innocent bystander caught in the crossfire of Em’s foul mood. “I just had a bit of an . . . incident over at Noah Handran’s house. It seems I have a doppelg?nger. And she’s ruining my life.” She found herself choking a little on the words.
There was a moment of silence. The moonlight on Skylar’s scars created white stripes on her cheekbones and forehead. Skylar shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Then she pointed down the road. “Well, we’re right by my house. Want to come in for a minute?”
It was true; Nora’s house was just down the block. ?And while it felt strange for Em to be accepting offers of comfort from Skylar McVoy, her options seemed pretty limited right now. Plus, if Nora was home, maybe Em could tell her about these symptoms and see if she had any advice. . . .
“I—I don’t know who else to talk to,” Em admitted, and they started walking, Skylar wheeling her bike alongside Em’s steps. Their footfalls echoed on the empty street. Em focused on taking deep breaths to ease the tightness in her chest.
“You can survive very terrible things,” Skylar said quietly.
Em didn’t answer. She didn’t know if she could—not anymore.
Aunt Nora’s driveway was lined on both sides by well-maintained hedges and planters that would soon be full of flowers. Skylar stood hesitantly there, as if she was reconsidering bringing Em inside.
“There’s something you should know,” she said finally.
“Yeah?” Em asked.