Cissy kneels beside me. “Come on, Myla. There’s something bothering you and it’s more than your Mom being a Senator. You can tell me.”
I hug my elbows. “Here’s the thing. The Lewises used to be a huge family. Everyone was murdered in Armageddon’s War because Mom was a Senator. That’s why she’s so overprotective of me. She lost everyone she loved.” I stare at the floor. “I never even got to meet them.”
Cissy pats my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“For so long I wanted to know the truth. Now I want to forget everything I’ve learned.” A warm tear rolls down the bridge of my nose.
“I understand, sweetie.”
I slump into the old office chair and watch dust motes float through the beam of light from the opened door. Somewhere an old-fashioned clock ticks away. I stare into the shadows, imagining ghostly Lewis eyes peeping at me in fear. My skin puckers into gooseflesh. Cissy gently rests her hand on my arm.
“Hey, I might have something to cheer you up.” She slides an envelope out of her pocket. “I totally shouldn’t do this.”
I look at her out of my right eye. “Do what?”
“Everyone’s freaking out in the East Wing. The thrax reserved the mansion for some event to celebrate autumn, but the ghoul minister’s kicking them out. No one wants to tell a bunch of demon fighters that they can’t use the house.” She taps the sealed envelope against her palm and looks at me expectantly. “I’m supposed to give this to one of the other Furor fighters to deliver.”
Thrax? Message? I smell payback.
I shoot Cissy my most innocent grin. “You’re right. It would totally cheer me up to go on a little errand.”
“That’s my Myla.” Cissy starts to hand me the letter, and then she pulls it back. “Don’t be surprised if they’re a little cranky about the change.”
“Oh, I can handle it.” I scoop the envelope from her hands. Zipping down my fighting suit, I set the letter against my collarbone, then zip it up again. “I’m on it.”
“One more thing. The thrax are really into their traditions. To get into their compound, you have to wear a dress and ride a horse.” Her face lands somewhere between a wince and a smile. “This could be a nice change of pace for you. Getting dressed up and all.”
I open my mouth to spill the truth: I’m not dress-girl or horse-lady. Sure, I love sneaking into the Ryder stables to kill Doxy demons, but I have no idea how to touch a horse, let alone ride it. But then I shut my yap. Screw it. I’d say just about anything for this payback fiesta. “That sounds like such a nice idea, Cissy.”
“And won’t tell anyone I let you do this, okay?”
“Never.”
“Good.” She rocks back on her heels, setting her golden ringlets swinging. “There are some thrax horses in the Ryder stables. I guess they’re enchanted or something. I hear they basically ride themselves, if you know what I mean.”
Some little part of me feels guilty for misleading Cissy here when she’s trying to be nice, but my inner demon has that little part of me in a sleeper hold. “Sounds like a plan.”
Cissy and I leave the mansion, hike past the hedgerow maze, and head toward a long and thin building on the outer grounds: the Ryder stables. A great wooden door marks the entrance; Cissy hauls it open. Inside, there’s a long central aisle with about a dozen stalls on either side.
I walk up the main aisle, peeking in the different stalls. Dry hay crunches beneath my feet. “I’ve always wondered. Why do the Ryders have stables anyway? Zeke never talks about riding and his parents only seem to love tennis.”
“It’s for guests. Thrax aren’t the only ones who like to travel by horse. Some ghouls and demons do it too. Normally, there are only a few horses in residence, but with the thrax in town, the stables are almost always full these days.”
I look at the different horses, reading the names printed above the stalls. “Moon Shadow. Firelight. Eugene.”
“That last one is a demon horse. Don’t go near it.”
My brows arch with admiration. “You’re a fountain of diplomatic information, Miss Frederickson.”
Cissy grins. “Zeke’s parents have taught me all sorts of stuff. It’s really interesting.”
A horse with a bluish-gray coat steps out of a nearby stall. She prances up to me and whinnies.
I smile. I’d know this horse anywhere. She’s been a target of the Doxy demons for months. They love to snarl her mane and tail; I love to play her personal demon exterminator. I run my fingers through the horse’s silky black mane. “What’s your name, lovely?”
Cissy steps up to the now-empty stall. “She’s a thrax horse. Her name’s Nightshade.” Cissy peeps inside. “I wonder how she got out of her stall.”
I shrug. “You said the horses were enchanted. Maybe they can do magic.”