Eternity

It seemed like a memory from someone else’s life.

She made her way past the EMPLOYEES ONLY velvet rope. There was no way she could just barge right into the theater itself—if Gabby saw her and Ty together, she’d be completely confused. No, Em needed to figure out a way to get Ty out of there, to confront her privately.

She hated to believe that Gabby, her best friend in the world, would ever confuse Ty for Em. Not up close, anyway. But if Ty met her in the darkness of the theater, it might be possible. . . . And what other explanation was there? Unless Em had made the plans and somehow forgotten. It seemed anything was possible these days, including the fact that she might be completely going crazy.

Perhaps that was all Ty was after—threading her way deeper into Em’s life, confusing her, spinning different realities.

As Em moved up the back stairs, she felt like she was coasting on her anger. She was invincible, as though a bubble of protection had formed around her—as though, like a character in one of JD’s video games, she was suddenly infused by a volcanic force, and could do anything.

She pushed open a door that said DO NOT ENTER. The projection booth was tiny and dark and the guy running it was small and pimply. He whipped around, clearly shocked.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Um, you can’t be—be up here,” he stammered. His eyes were wide and he looked Em up and down nervously; Em felt power radiating from every pore. She felt like she owned this boy. She felt . . . like Ty.

“There’?s a problem with the film in Theater ?Two,” she purred. “I thought you might be able to help us figure things out? I can stay here and make sure this one runs smoothly.”

“Theater Two?” He seemed hypnotized by her words. This was so easy. He didn’t even question her.

“Theater Two.” She nodded, slithering forward. “I’ll stay right here until you get back.” He was gone in seconds. As soon as he left, she peeked through the small glass window down into the audience. It took a minute to scan the darkened room, but her eyes seemed to adjust quickly—too quickly. Bingo. There were Gabby’s blond ringlets, and next to them, a head that could be hers—a pile of messy dark hair, big gold hoops. Ty.

Slowly, languidly, as though her head was not attached to her neck, Ty swiveled around and stared directly into Em’s eyes. With a gasp, Em stepped away from the window, feeling like she had just jumped into Galvin Pond in the middle of February—her breath had been swept away. Pinpricks of terror ran up and down her body.

Just a few seconds later, the door to the booth swung open. There stood Ty, smirking. Her loose white T- shirt and tight gray jeans were practically identical to Em’s own outfit.

“What are you doing here?” Em said, trying to keep her voice steady. Whenever she stood next to Ty, she was overcome by a frigid sense of blackness. Almost like drowning. She refused to look at their reflections in the projector window. The double vision would only make her dizzier.

“Seeing a movie with my friend Gabs,” Ty said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She trailed her fingers casually along the equipment in the projection booth. “I love a good rom-com.”

“She’s not your friend,” Em said coldly. She looked Ty up and down. “Why are you . . . wearing that? How did you know what I’d be wearing? Why are you trying to look like me?”

“How did you know what I’d be wearing?” Ty countered. “Maybe you’re copying me, not vice versa. Did you ever think about that?” She did a quick spin in the small space, like a model on a runway, and laughed.

Em’s eyes caught hers in the window’s reflection, and her vision swam. It was in fact hard to tell who was who. Her breath hitched in her throat and she willed herself to turn away from the glass.

“You can feel it inside you, can’t you?” Ty whispered. “The heat. ?The power. ?The anger. It’s exciting, isn’t it? And scary. Scary how evil feeds on itself.”

“Why me?” The words came out hoarse and quiet. “Why now? Why don’t you just kill me, like you’ve done with all the others?”

For a moment, Ty’s taunting look vanished, and Em detected something else, almost— almost—like sadness. The way an animal might pity its prey, right before devouring it. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she said, and that brief glimpse of empathy was gone. She smiled. “Don’t you see, Em? I just want to be good. Like you.”

“Good?” Em repeated. It was disgusting to hear Ty even say the word.

“Let the darkness take you,” Ty said, taking a step forward, more seductively now. “Time is running out, you know. It’s almost over. And then the pain will be over, and the transformation will be complete.” It sounded almost like Ty was saying a prayer. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get back to the movie—I don’t want to miss the best part! See you at the party later.” She winked.

And then, before Em could question her or respond in any way, ?Ty whisked herself out of the small room. ?As she brushed by, it was as if they shared the same slice of air. As if their molecules mingled for a split second. Two wisps of smoke, twirling around each other.

And the mirrored glass reinforced the sensation—in the vacuum of Ty’s wake, as Em leaned over, resting her hands on her knees and trying to regain her balance, her reflection wavered in and out, like a shifting hologram. Was the girl in the mirror “good,” like Ty had said?

She barely knew herself. There I am. There I’m not.

Back and forth. In and out. No matter how hard she blinked, she seemed translucent.

Holy shit.

She tried to tell herself to keep breathing, but panic roiled inside her, making it hard to grasp on to a lifeline.

I’m disappearing, she thought.

Then aloud: “I’m disappearing.” Saying the words seemed to break the spell. Like waking up from a dream, she clicked back into herself and saw a normal reflection in the glass. She brought a hand to her face and touched her skin, making sure it was there. Making sure she was real. There was little relief, though; instead, she felt like she’d dodged the bullet that would surely get her eventually.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Less than a mile from the Feiffers’ house, JD parked on the side of the road. When he pulled out his phone, his hands were shaking. Within a couple seconds of online research, he was quickly able to nail down two solid pieces of information:

1. The Furies were mythological goddesses of vengeance.

2. They usually appeared in groups of three—and their names were a mouthful: Tisephone, Alecto, and Megaera.

Ty, ?Ali, Meg.

His stomach rolled and he kept scrolling through webpages, hunting for information. What he read about the Furies put a bad taste in his mouth.

JD’s unsettling interactions with Ty, Lucy, and Mr. Feiffer only served to heighten his unease, not to mention the snake charm he’d found. It was difficult to separate the truth from the madness—it seemed like crazy stories and wild behavior were becoming the norm around here.

But what was he supposed to believe? That three storybook characters had leaped from the pages of Greek scrolls to the streets of Ascension? And that Ty was one of them, along with her cousins?

Meg, Ty, even Ali—all of them were pretty, but off. JD was reminded of the open casket funerals he had been to, and how the bodies looked after they’d been drained, stuffed, and powdered. That’s how these girls were: perfect on the outside but empty and rotten on the inside. You could sense it.

It was definitely weird that the mystery women who had recently entered his life had names that were remarkably similar—just a little more pronounceable—to the mythological goddesses’. And that Lucy and Mr. Feiffer had both dropped hints that connected the Furies with recent happenings in Ascension. But coincidences were not evidence.

And then there was the possibility Em was somehow entangled in this mess. After all, the first time he’d ever heard of the Furies was in the book on her bed. . . . Sweat prickled his forehead. He punched down the