Eternity (24 page)

What did he know? What
big things
was he referring to? Was he in trouble? How long would she be able to lie straight to his face?

She wanted to ask. But the tears—and the deception—were so exhausting, they were taking her into a cloudy zone of half-sleep. That empty feeling in her stomach, the one that came when she’d cried all the tears she had in her, was making her nauseous.

“Shhhh,” JD said. “I know. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

“I can’t—I can’t tell you. . . . ” she murmured, sniffling into the pillow.

“You’re going to have to,” he said, not letting up. “But you don’t have to right now. Just rest. I’ll stay until you fall asleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“It’s too late,” she said.

JD squeezed her arm and leaned down to whisper into her neck, so close that she could feel the movement of his lips against the soft hairs at her nape. “It’s never too late.” She felt his warmth.

And there was the growing crevice in her heart, threatening to crack the whole thing to pieces. Because he was wrong. She had two days left, two days as Emily Winters, the person she’d been for almost seventeen years. The person who loved mac ’n’ cheese, and her grandma’s murder-mystery paperbacks, and old musicals. Who couldn’t stay awake during long car rides—not even with caffeine—and didn’t like zucchini no matter how it was prepared. Who first met Gabby Dove in Girl Scouts when they were eight, and who won the All-Maine Spelling Bee when she was in sixth grade. Who loved JD Fount, loved his flannel shirts and his sensitivity and the fact that he knew how things worked, things like airplanes and DVD players.

These things were all she had left to hold on to. The things that made her Emily Marie Winters. Those last, swirling bits that made her wholly
her
.

Soon, even those intractable things would be lost, forever.

JD woke to someone screaming. He jerked upright, sweaty, tangled in the flannel sheet he’d thrown over the couch. For a second, he was totally disoriented. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table, before remembering that he wasn’t in his room but downstairs on the couch. They were somewhere on the coffee table just out of reach. He got up, fumbling in the dark, bumping his shin, cursing.

And upstairs, Melissa kept screaming—high-pitched, senseless.

Finally he found his glasses, and as he raced upstairs, he heard his parents’ bedroom door open. His father’s heavy footsteps slammed down the hall, with his mom’s flapping slippers not far behind. Melissa’s screams continued, growing more hysterical.

He thought he heard the word “help.” He thought he heard the word “no.”

Fear was like a drill, beating out all logic, all sense. They were after him. They’d found out what he knew.  Ty and Ali and Meg. They were here.

By the time he reached the top of the landing, the door to his room was open too, and Em had stepped into the hall. He caught a brief glimpse of her bare legs, so thin beneath the enormous T-shirt she was wearing. It made him shiver.

“What is it?” He stopped in Melissa’s doorway; his father was hovering over his sister’s bed, shushing her, while his mother sat at the foot of the bed, rubbing Melissa’s feet through the blanket. She wasn’t screaming anymore, just whimpering, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees and her chin buried between her forearms. The clock on her nightstand read 4:34.

“There’s no one out there, honey,” Mr. Fount said, leaning over Melissa’s bed to look out her window, where a purplish dawn was just starting to break. “I promise.”

“You’re just overexcited because of the fire,” JD’s mom added, stroking her daughter’s sleep-mussed hair. “Nightmare,” she mouthed to JD.

Melissa shook herself free. “It wasn’t a dream,” she said. “I saw someone. I’m sure of it. Right there.” She pointed to her window frame, staring at the glass with wide, tear-glassed eyes.

JD’s stomach knotted up. He thought of Mr. Feiffer’s face,
frozen in death. But he tried to stay calm. “That’s impossible, Mel,” he said, trying to shake any doubt from his voice. “How would someone get all the way up to your window?”

“Someone was there,” Melissa insisted. “I
know
someone was watching me. I could feel it.” Her parents exchanged a hopeless look over Melissa’s head.

“I have an idea, Melly.” Suddenly Em was in the room behind him. She’d pulled on her sweatpants. Her long dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy ponytail. JD thought she had never looked so beautiful. How could someone be here, so close, and yet so untouchable? “Why don’t you keep watch from up here, and I’ll go downstairs and make sure no one is out there?”

Mrs. Fount gave a nervous laugh, making
You don’t have to do this
eyes at Em. “I don’t think that’s necessary, sweetheart. . . . ”

But Melissa nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said. “Just to make sure.” She squeezed her knees tighter, and said defensively, “I
didn’t
imagine it.”

“Let’s make sure they’re gone, then,” Em assured her. “I get it. It’s no big deal,” she said, more to the Founts than to Melissa.  And then she was gone, headed downstairs and for the front door.

“I’ll go with her,” JD said hurriedly. What was she thinking, going out there alone?

He followed Em into the front yard, shivering as his bare feet hit the dewy grass. Em had passed into the front yard already,
making a great show of looking up, down, and all around. The sky was charcoal, lit by hazy stars.

“You’re a great actress,” he called out to her as she turned to give a thumbs-up to Melissa’s bedroom window. They watched as Melissa waved to them, hugged her parents, and turned off her light.

“I’m not acting,” she said quietly. She’d been beaming at the window. Now her smile faded. “I was worried.”

As the words left her mouth, a gust of wind blew through the yard, rustling the branches, the new leaves. He tried to ignore the prickling feeling on the back of his neck—like there really was someone, or something, out there with them.

“Did you feel that?” Em asked.

“Yeah. Just a breeze.” He tried to keep his voice light. But he felt urgently that they had to get inside—away from the dark, and the night, away from all the places someone could hide. “Let’s go back in.”

Em was standing rigid, her face suddenly contorted with fear. He wanted to put his arm around her, but the six inches between them felt like an abyss of awkwardness, unable to be spanned. He wished he could tell her that he knew the truth—about Crow, about the Furies. But would it help? Would it change anything? He wasn’t sure.

“What? What is it?” JD took a step toward her, then stopped.

She pointed wordlessly at the oak tree. There, tangled in a
branch about eight feet off the ground, was a strip of shiny red ribbon.

Meg.

JD turned a slow circle. The lights upstairs had gone dark. The only light came from a porch across the street—it lit a bare circle of new grass. Was it his imagination, or did he hear someone laughing?

They’re here.

“I’m scared,” Em whispered.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand.

She did, and together they started to run toward the house—covering the distance in fewer than ten swooping paces. JD felt like he was moving in slow motion. There was something behind him. Someone chasing them.  And then the laughter got louder—a cackling, rushing up behind them. About to engulf them. Taunting them, pursuing them with outstretched fingers.

They burst through the front door and shut it quickly, and stood with their backs pressed against it, nearly out of breath. He listened. Everything was silent.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Em whispered into the half-darkness. “Can I stay down here with you?”

He didn’t want to push her. But he had to, if he was going to help. “Only if you’ll answer some questions,” he said, motioning for her to follow him into the den. “I told you I wouldn’t give up.”

Even though she hadn’t been over in months, they automatically assumed their regular positions on the couch—facing each other with feet just barely touching. He felt that ache in his chest again. Where had she gone? Was she really with Crow? Did she love him?

“We haven’t done this in a while,” Em said, staring at her feet.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed the absence of your tiny hobbit feet in my life,” JD teased.

“I do not have hobbit feet!” Em insisted. Just like always. For a moment all that sadness, all that misery, was gone from her face, and she was there, beautiful and shining and
his
.

“I want this back,” JD said suddenly, not even knowing that he was going to speak until the words were on his tongue. “I want the old Em back.”

Em inhaled sharply, as though his words were a physical hurt. “I do too,” she said finally. “But I don’t know how to find her.” She looked away, and he could tell she was trying not to cry.

Silence built around them. JD knew that this was his chance. He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath.

“Em, what are the Furies?” His question seemed to echo in the quiet room.

Em flinched. Her eyes were huge, and her face drained of color. “How—how do you . . . ?” She trailed off, stricken.

“Who are they?”

She still didn’t answer.

“Em, who are Ty, Ali, and Meg?”

Her hand flew to her mouth, muting a yelp of shock and fear. She shook her head back and forth.

“They’re the Furies, aren’t they?”

As he spoke, Em’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. “No,” she said pleadingly. “No. I won’t tell you. Please. Just leave it alone.”

“Why are they here?” he persisted. He took a deep breath. “Why were they just outside my house? And why are they after you?” Not until he said the question did he realize how clear it was that Em was being haunted, pursued. That she had been pursued for a long time.

“You need to stay away from them. All three of them.” Her voice was as sharp as a razor.

JD threw his head back against the couch cushion in frustration. “You can’t keep secrets anymore, Em. You’re going to get hurt.”

“Going to? I already did.” She let out a frantic, false laugh.

JD leaned forward again. “I know,” he said. “And so did Chase, and Drea, and Drea’s father. . . . You need to tell me what’s going on so we can stop this.”

“What do you mean, Drea’s dad? What does Walt Feiffer have to do with this?”

“Shit,” JD said. Of course she didn’t know; she couldn’t have. . . .

“JD, what does he have to do with this?” she persisted. There was an edge of hysteria in her voice.

“Mr. Feiffer is dead.” He was too tired to mince words.

The color drained from Em’s face. “No,” she said. “No, that’s . . . You’re wrong. That can’t be true.”

He could see how badly she wanted it to be false. Death was all around her now—and by extension, it was all around him, too. “I’m sorry, Em,” he said. “I found him. I found him just this morning. And that’s why I want to help you. I need to. I know you’re in danger and if they did that to him—”

“You can’t,” she interrupted. Em looked up at him with eyes as big as quarters. They were glossy with tears and there was a smudge of makeup below her right eye.

“What did they do to you?” he begged. Why didn’t she see he was trying to help her?

“They offered me something,” Em said. Her eyes were focused on a faraway spot. “In return, I had to do something for them. It was worth it, though. You have to believe me, JD.”

“What did you do?” he asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

“I . . . I bound myself to them.” She glanced up at him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I . . . ”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” he said, coaxing her to continue. “Tell me.”

“I swallowed five seeds,” she said in barely a whisper. Her
eyes told him she was one hundred percent serious.

“Seeds? What kind of seeds?”

She shook her head. Tears were rolling down her face. “I don’t know. Red ones . . . ”

“But why?” It didn’t make any sense.

“They said if I took them, they’d give me what I wanted. But ever since then . . . I’m changing. Drea warned me—” She cut herself off and turned her face toward the window.

JD tried to keep calm, even as he felt the heat rising into his face. The room felt like it was melting. The real world, the world he’d always known—where there was no magic but no monsters, either—seemed to be dissolving like sugar in water.

“I’m not supposed to be telling you this,” Em said tearfully. “I shouldn’t be putting you in danger.”

“Em, it’s you who’s in danger,” he said. “I was at their house the other day. I saw—”

She exploded. “You were
where
?” All of a sudden she was on her feet. He could see her chest heaving up and down. When she continued, she made a point of lowering her voice, and it came out as a strangled whisper. “What the hell were you thinking? You can’t go there, JD. You can’t go back there. Jesus. You have to stay out of it. Promise me. Promise me you will.”

“Why? I get that you’re scared of them,” JD said,  “but I know how to stop them.”

“Impossible,” she said. “They can’t be stopped.”

“They can,” he insisted. He swallowed. This conversation had been far easier in his head. “Mr. Feiffer knew how to banish the Furies.” He remembered what Mr. Feiffer had told him—he knew how to get rid of the evil for good. JD felt his throat constrict. How might Mr. Feiffer have helped him, if he’d had the chance?

“Mr.
Feiffer
?” For a second, she stared at him. “He couldn’t have known anything about them. If he did, do you think his daughter would be dead? Do you think
he’d
be dead? No. They’re ruthless. And powerful.” Suddenly she turned a full circle—wide, panicked. “I get it. They’re tricking me. They—they want me to break my vow.  They want to hurt you. I won’t let them.”

“Em, calm down.”

“I won’t let them,” she repeated, her voice rising shrilly.

They both jumped when they heard someone on the stairs.

“JD?” It was Melissa coming downstairs. Nothing good would come of scaring her. They looked at each other.