Eternity

had to leave my halo at the door,” she said. “Beautiful set.”

For a second, she saw a real flash of pleasure in his face, lighting up his greenish eyes, turning them temporarily golden. Then he shrugged. “Just a few things we’re playing around with,” he said nonchalantly. There was whiskey on his breath.

“Well, it was good,” Em said firmly. Crow smirked and she added, “But I didn’t just come to hear you play. We need to talk.” She looked around at all the people still milling around the club, waiting for the next band. There it was again—the feeling of being watched.

“I’m gonna need another drink if we’re going to get all serious,” he said, turning and striding toward the bar without waiting for her to respond.

She trailed after him, watching girls lower their eyelids flirtatiously as he passed by. He was oblivious.

“I’ll have a another,” Crow said just a little too loudly when he got to the bar. “And a PBR chaser. And whatever she’s having.” He tossed a thumb over his shoulder in Em’s direction.

“Just a seltzer, please,” she said. “Are you using one of your fake IDs?” she added under her breath.

“Like I need it,” Crow shrugged. “I’m a regular.” When his drink arrived, two inches of brown liquid with one lonely ice cube, he slammed half of it in one sip and followed that with a swig of beer. So much for asking him for a ride home. He stared at her, daring her to pass judgment.

“Can we find somewhere to talk?” she asked, looking around the bar to avoid his gaze. His eyes were so intense—as though he could see directly into her.

And maybe he could. She trusted him. She really did, despite what everyone said. She realized she knew virtually nothing about him except that he’d dropped out of high school . . . or been kicked out, depending on who you asked. But when she heard his music there was an understanding there, an honesty that just felt right. Plus he just couldn’t have made up what Drea said out of spite or sketchiness. She couldn’t make herself believe that.

“How about over there,” he said, pointing to a small wooden love seat in a corner dimly lit by a glowing tea light.

Once they sat down and Em had arranged it so her knees weren’t touching his, she forced herself to ask the question that had been burning inside of her all day. “Do you think it’s true? What Drea said?” Was it her, or did every candle in the place flicker at the exact same time, like a gust of wind was passing through?

There was silence as Crow studied his beer can. Em could feel the ba-boom, ba-boom, ba- boom of bass drums through her feet.

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Crow said, shaking his head.

That makes two of us, she thought. The condensation from her glass made her hands cold and wet.

“Something happened today,” she said finally. “In gym class. It was like . . . it was like I had turned into someone else.”

He didn’t say anything. She couldn’t even tell if he was really listening to her, the way he was looking off into the distance. He took another deep draw from his drink.

“I . . . hurt someone,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She bent her head, embarrassed. “I became, like, Superwoman for a few minutes. I threw a ball and it—it hit someone . . . ” Then, at the exact same time, they finished the sentence: ?“Right in the face.”

She whipped toward him. “How did you know?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Listen, angel, you’re not the only one stuck in this shit show. I have a feeling I’m tangled up in it too.” ?The words “upinit” smashed together like a traffic jam.

“You mean, because Drea told you about the Furies?” She still wasn’t sure how much Crow knew.

Fortified by another sip of beer, Crow leaned forward and spoke to the floor. “Worse than that,” he said. “See, I knew you were going to do that, what you did today in gym. I saw the whole thing—I saw you running like a track star on speed. I saw you break that girl’s cheekbone. I’d already seen it all.”

It was like a valve had opened within Crow; the words were spilling out of him.

“Where?” she asked. “What do you mean, you saw it?”

“What do I mean . . . ? Just what I said. I’ve been having these . . . visions, I guess you’d call them,” he said. His knee was jangling up and down to its own rhythm. “I’ve been seeing things—like movies in my mind. Not memories, exactly. But things that have happened. Or will happen. Or . . . I don’t know.” When he looked at her again, his eyes were reddish. Tired.

She nodded, but couldn’t speak. Was this Crow’s drunken idea of a practical joke? Or was he just drunker than she’d even realized?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said defiantly, “but I’m not just wasted. I mean, not that wasted. I saw you, Em . . . in my mind. There was so much blackness around you. Spilling out from inside of you. I knew you were going to hurt someone. And I don’t think it’s over. I think you’re going to keep hurting people. The damage isn’t done.” The last words came out in a slurred rush. He drained what was left in the beer can.

No. I don’t want to hurt anyone. His words tapped into her worst fears. “I didn’t mean to hurt Casey,” she said weakly. “I’m not . . . like them.” Not yet, at least.

He barely heard her. “But here’s the really bad thing,” Crow continued. “That darkness that I saw in you, in my vision? It follows me around. I’ll have another vision. Guarantee it,” he said, holding up his empty glass. “Refill?”

She glanced at the key chain dangling from his belt loop. “I’m worried about you driving home.”

“Don’t you worry about me, babe,” he said, leaning in close. “I can take care of myself. It’s you we should be worried about.” And with that he made his way back to the bar.

As she waited for him to return, her eyes were drawn to the church balcony. To the high stained-glass window that depicted a scraggly tree being split in two by a bolt of lightning. She stared at the oddly shaped cuts of glass, pieced together to form a whole image. An image of destruction. The window swam, a kaleidoscope of colors. Then there was a flash of white-blond hair.

She did a double take. There was someone up there.

Ali.

Ali was here. Spying.

She was being watched. Her stomach seized up and she considered running. Leaving this place, leaving Crow.

But when she narrowed her eyes and kept them trained to the spot where she’d seen movement, there was nothing. Nothing but dark corners and fleeting shadows.

“So here’s what I know,” Crow said, breaking her concentration. He’d come back with another glass of whiskey in his hand. “You and Drea were playing ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer,’ except not vampires but Furies. The goddesses of revenge. Evil.” His voice was rising; his tone was suddenly performative. It was as if he were trying to make a scene.

“Shhhhh,” she hissed. “They’ll hear you.”

“Who will?” He was mocking her, but she thought she saw a spark of fear in his eyes.

“Crow, how much do you know? What else have you seen in your . . . visions?”

“I know too much,” he said, sitting down heavily. “I knew about—I knew about Drea.”

Em felt the familiar wave of panic and hopelessness rush through her. “You knew that she was trying to get rid of them?”

“More than that,” he said dully. “I knew what was going to happen to her.”

“You knew about . . . the fire?” She shook her head. “But that’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” he said. His jarring tone made several nearby patrons turn their heads. “It’s not impossible just because you don’t understand it.”

“This is serious, Crow.” She tried to pull him back into their conversation, but his focus had shifted. He was looking at her through narrowed eyes, as if he were examining a specimen under a microscope.

“Sure, sure. Let’s be serious.” He scooted his chair toward her and leaned forward.

“Crow . . . don’t.”

“Don’t what, princess? I gotta ask a question, and I gotta get close to ask it.” He grabbed the underside of