So that’s your mistake. Em turned to look at Skylar. She looked so young. ?And so sorry. ?That more than anything else.
“Is that why the Furies came after you?” Em asked. Skylar had babbled something along these lines when Em visited her in the hospital after her accident, but this was the first time she’d truly come clean.
Skylar was shaking. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Then she nodded. “And they made me . . . They brought out the worst in me,” Skylar whispered. “You would hate me if you knew.”
“It’s okay,” Em said. The truth was, Em didn’t care about the nitty-gritty of Skylar’s mistakes—not as much as she wanted the key to saving her own soul. “We all make mistakes.” And some pay for them more than others.
She could still hear strains of Lucy’s babbling. God, it was creepy, yet melodic and relaxing. Em had to fight competing urges to run up the stairs or out the door. Everyone wants to be good, Em heard her say.
“Can I talk to her?” Em said suddenly. She knew it was forward, but there was something about that voice. Those words.
Skylar looked at Em suspiciously. “You want to meet her?”
“If it’s okay with you,” Em said, but she was already moving toward the stairs.
“Okay,” Skylar relented. “But we have to be quiet. I don’t want Aunt Nora to wake up.” She motioned for Em to follow her up the creaky wooden steps, closer and closer to the singsong tune that emanated from behind a wooden door on the second floor.
The noise continued, high-pitched and repetitive, like a music box that refused to unwind. Em heard snippets of words; they seemed to be luring her forward. The song was somehow familiar, like a lullaby Em would have heard when she was little. And the way Skylar was reacting to the sound—all jittery, clearing her throat over and over—it made Em very nervous.
Skylar stopped for a moment in the hall. She took a deep breath, then swung open the door.
A girl was sitting on the floor in front of a full-length mirror. She had high cheekbones and she was thin, almost wiry. Her arms reminded Em of something you might see in a museum: all sinew and ropy muscle. Em could tell she used to be pretty, but it was hard to see her as such now. A prominent scar ran along her hairline. Her forehead was pale and sheened with sweat, even though it was cold in the house. Her dirty-blond hair, the same shade as Skylar’s, was uncombed. She was in the process of applying maroon lipstick shakily across her lips.
She made piercing eye contact with Em in the mirror and stopped humming immediately.
“Hi, Sky,” the girl said happily. “Want to try this new color I found?” She held up the tube of lipstick.
Skylar swallowed and offered a strained smile, obviously trying to regain her composure. “Lucy, this is my friend Emily,” she then said, taking an unsteady step forward. She gestured for Em to follow her. The room was clearly an office that had been converted into a makeshift bedroom. An old computer and a jumble of wires and electrical equipment were heaped in the corner beyond the bed. It was small and musty and smelled, to Em, like ink cartridges.
Lucy continued to primp. Her eyes seemed to be locked into a wide stare.
“Lucy?” Skylar ventured.
“Yes?” Lucy turned around slowly, with an expression somewhere between confused and content. Then she smiled, like she was remembering a line from a script. “It’s nice to meet you, Emily.”
“You too,” Em said. She wished Lucy would start mumbling again, now that she was close enough to catch every word.
But Skylar’s sister seemed suddenly shy. She mashed her lips together, rubbing the redness into the skin around her mouth.
Skylar shrugged apologetically. “Sometimes she doesn’t really say much,” she offered.
“That’s okay,” Em said. Outside Lucy’s window, the night was dark and starless. “What color is that, Lucy?” She moved closer, hoping to make the girl more comfortable.
Lucy turned it over to check, and as she did, her whole body stiffened. Without warning, she threw the lipstick away from her; when it hit the wall near Em and Skylar it left a sharp red smear on the wall.
“Lucy! What are you doing? Why did you do that?” Skylar shrieked, going to her sister, who had begun to rock softly back and forth.
“I’m sorry, Sky,” she said, drooping into Skylar’s arms. They won’t leave me alone. Even the lipstick . . . ” A single tear ran down her face, and when she swatted at it, she smudged her makeup.
Skylar stroked her hair. “Shhhh,” she said. “Shhhh.”
Something in Lucy’s tone made Em’s blood run cold. Made her want to listen more closely. She bent to pick up the tube, which had landed near her feet. When she turned in over, there was a little white sticker on the bottom of the silver tube.
DEEP ORCHID, it read. Em stiffened, resisting the urge to throw it across the room just as Lucy had. The color of the lipstick was Deep Orchid.