Eternity tft-3

by Elizabeth Miles

  “That sounds awesome,” Em said. She kept her game face on until her mom closed the door.

  As soon as she was alone again, she pulled out her notebook and started to write. There was one more person she needed to say good-bye to. She scribbled furiously. And when she was done, she folded up the note and left it on top of the coiled, broken piece of string on her windowsill. She’d kept it there, through all this craziness. On the outside, she wrote JD.

  The sun had set. It was time to go.

  * * *

  It was easy to find the house this time. Making her way through the Haunted Woods, with ashen birches violently waving their scraggly fingers in the sky, she had the feeling that she was floating, skimming the ground. She had a mission, and she would not be drawn off course.

  The house stood shadowy in the inky-blue twilight, towering up to paint a black silhouette against the sky. Em crept through the clearing, trying to sense whether the Furies were around. She pulled the hood of her black sweatshirt over her head to hide her braid and part of her face; in dark skinny jeans, sneakers, and the sweatshirt, she felt kind of like Drea. Kind of badass.

  Crickets whined in the tall weeds around the house, clicking off whenever she got too close.

  She peeked into a downstairs window and saw nothing. Nothing moving.  All dark. She put her toe against the front door and pushed lightly. The door creaked open.

  No one was home. Where were they?

  The house looked different than it had in the past. Where it had once appeared charred, empty, it was now opulent and decorated. The Furies had been here long enough to transform it. As their power increased, so did their presence. Em’s stomach flipped. Squinting her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, she saw curved pieces of furniture, a golden chandelier, and a glass case under a tall window. She was drawn to it. Using her flashlight to guide her through the room, she made her way to the cabinet.

  There, she saw trinkets that she knew were sick trophies: a ripped piece of one of Sasha’s drawings, Drea’s treasured brooch, and . . .

  She inhaled sharply.

  Her pen. The pen JD had given her.

  Right next to it was a long beaded dangly earring. Just like the one she’d lost on the night of Noah’s party. And next to that, a tiny shred of paper with one word written on it. She practically gagged as her stomach turned over. She recognized that handwriting. JD’s. She knew that note. The word was: Always.

  “Get out of my life,” Em whispered. Although she had spoken quietly, the words seemed to echo in the vast black chamber of the room.

  Once again, she wondered where the three Furies had gone.

  She looked out the window, and at first all she saw was her own pale reflection staring back at her. It was shocking how much she was starting to look like a Fury. Like Ty, who had once seemed so exotic and beautiful. It wasn’t that their features matched perfectly, or that their complexions were the exact same shade. It was in their abysslike eyes, in the curve of their lips. They looked like daughters of the same underworld.

  As she shrank away instinctively from her own image, the glass became more translucent; the moon was coming out from behind a cloud and all of a sudden she could see into a beautiful backyard. Everything beyond the glass seemed to be giving off a mesmerizing red glow.

  The garden. Like the one in her dream.

  That’s where the flowers were. That’s where her flower was. Looking at them made her chest swell in anticipation. Her life was in that garden.

  Bing-bing. The text message chime lurched her back to reality. Back into “Em” mode.

  It was JD. Where are you? Not at play? Need to see you. Now.

  Em looked down at her phone, then back up at the window. Now, when she looked outside, she saw nothing but a blank expanse of dirt, and gravel being tossed by the wind. The flowers were gone. Shit. Her palms began to sweat. What the hell . . . ? She’d seen the garden there, just a second ago. So close. Had she done something to make it appear? Or was she hallucinating?

  Maybe she had to channel her Fury-self to get into that garden. Kind of like Crow had kept saying—he was going to give in to the darkness; he was going to channel the forces that had brought them. Something like self-hypnosis. Just a few minutes. Just long enough to see the garden, find the white flower, and end this once and for all. Maybe the garden was locked, somehow, protected against intruders by the Furies’ power.

  Eating the seeds would break the curse. Eating the seeds would make her human again. Whole again. She would be free. She took a shuddering breath. If she was free, was she casting this curse onto someone else?

  And if so, did she care?

  There was a sound in the distance, screeches of laughter that morphed at the last minute into a scream.

  She was close now. And they were coming.

  Placing her back against the wall, Em slid down to the floor. She shut off her phone. She put her head against her knees and prepared to enter the darkness one final time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Where am I?” Skylar’s voice trembled on the dark, bare stage. Her face was lit in a purple glow. The audience was silent in its seats. “Fled is the kindly light; deep darkness blinds my eyes; and the sky, buried in gloom, is hidden away.”

  She covered her face in her hands and JD turned a knob on the light board, fading the purple glow into a deeper, reddish gleam. He was sitting in the auditorium booth, his left knee bobbing anxiously up and down, trying to focus on hitting his cues but hardly able to concentrate. They were halfway through Act Two, and JD was counting the minutes until he could escape, grab Melissa, and perform the ritual described in Mr. Feiffer’s letter.

  “You’re more nervous than the actors,” Ned whispered.

  “Just got a lot on my mind,” JD said back, sliding one of the dimmers up to the top of the lighting console. Skylar was bathed now in a rich, red spotlight. The madness was starting to overtake her character; her head was thrown back in despair, revealing a creamy, birdlike neck.

  JD’s ribs felt tight. He wished desperately that Em had come with her parents to the play. She needed to know what he was planning to do—and why. If she’d been here tonight, he would have taken the leap and told her everything. That he loved her. That he would do anything to save her. That he’d found a way to banish the Furies for good, while keeping everyone safe. He wouldn’t be too late, like Mr. Feiffer had been.

  He thought of the way it would feel to put his hand on Em’s waist and pull her toward him. He imagined finally kissing her the way he’d wanted to for so long.

  “Dude, blackout. Blackout!” Ned nudged JD’s arm, and JD scrambled to hit the correct button, which plunged the stage to black. “Let’s hope the audience thought that was a dramatic pause.”

  “Sorry,” JD said. “I spaced.” As he brought the lights back up for the curtain call, he pulled out his pocket watch to look at the time. Almost ten o’clock. He had to hurry.

  Out in the lobby with his family and Em’s parents, JD cracked his knuckles and absently dismissed any congratulations thrown his way. He had to think—fast—of a way to get Melissa out of there.

  “Mel, want to get some late ice cream? The place up on Route Twenty-Two is still open.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “Why?”

  “Because I have a craving for rocky road, that’s why,” he said.

  “You buying?” Melissa asked. “You owe me.”

  “You have no idea,” JD said drily. And then, to his parents: “Don’t wait up. We’re going to have sibling-bonding time.”

  “All right,” JD’s dad said. “Don’t go too crazy. And be careful—the storm may have cleared but it’s still slippery out there.”

  He practically dragged Mel through the parking lot to his car. The moon was high in the sky, so bright that it looked like a floodlight. The air was damp with the promise of more rain. He could see a mass of clouds gathering on the horizon, black and fleecy, like a herd overtaking the sky.


  “What is up with you?” Mel shook off his hand as they speed-walked.

  “We’re not going for ice cream,” JD said, unlocking the car doors and motioning for Melissa to get in. He waited until the car was moving to tell her the truth. “I need you to do something for me. It’s going to sound crazy.”

  She looked over at him from the passenger side of the car and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. The moonlight made her freckles dark against her pale skin. “This doesn’t sound good,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  JD cleared his throat and clenched his hands around the smooth steering wheel. Outside, past the windshield, Ascension’s fields and farmhouses sped by.

  “Mel, there’s something going on. Something you need to know about. And I need your help to stop it.”

  She scowled at him, trying to gauge whether this was the setup to one of his elaborate practical jokes. “If you’re joking, I’m not in the mood,” she warned.

  “Neither am I.” JD pulled onto Dillon’s Road, a long, winding route that bisected the town and would take him over to Silver Way—and the entrance to the Haunted Woods. “Listen, Em is in trouble. She needs us.”

  “Em’s in trouble?” Melissa’s voice raised with concern.

  He nodded. But before he could say anything more, his sister interjected. “Where are we going?” she asked sharply. They were almost there.

  “We’re going into the woods,” he said. “The Haunted Woods.”

  She shook her head violently. “No. No. I won’t go there,” she said.

  He knew the feeling. His mouth was dry. He felt desperate, and guilty, too. But Melissa had to help him. It was the only way. “Melissa, it’s okay. It’s the last time we’ll go there. I promise.”

  “No,” she repeated. “Absolutely not.”

  “Melissa, we have to. It’s not an option.”

  “Pull over,” she said. “Pull over or I’m getting out of the car.” When he looked over he saw that she was gripping the door handle.

  “Calm down, Mel. I’m pulling over, okay?” He swerved onto the side of the road. His heart was beating against his ribs. They were surrounded by darkness and crickets and bullfrogs in the distance.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said, not looking at him. There was a pause. Then she spoke again, though her voice was so soft that he could barely hear her. “It was them. When I saw someone at my window, it was them.”

  “Who?” But he knew the answer.

  The Furies.

  “Ali,” Melissa said shakily. “She scares me. So do the others.”

  “They scare me, too,” JD admitted. He turned to her, and reached out for her hand. “They terrify me, actually. And you know what I’m going to do tonight? I’m going to get rid of them. Once and for all.”

  “What do you mean, once and for all?” Melissa asked, withdrawing her hand from his. “You can’t make people just disappear.”

  JD sucked in a deep breath. “They’re not people,” he said.

  “They’re not people?” Melissa echoed. “What does that even mean?” While he tried to think of a response, she said: “You’re freaking me out.”

  The wind was whipping hard enough to shake the whole car. Still, JD didn’t know how to explain.

  “They’re after Em. I think that’s why they were at our house that night.”

  “Like they’re haunting Em?” she asked.

  “Yes,” JD said. “That’s pretty much the only thing I’m sure of.”

  “Drive,” she said, pointing down the road. “Just go. Before I change my mind.”

  In what felt like seconds, Silver Way approached on their left. As he made the turn, he heard Melissa take several shallow breaths.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he told her. “You have to trust me. I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  And he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to take his eyes off her. The second he thought she was in real danger, he would snatch her away from the flames. Hopefully the psuedosacrifice would still work, as it had for Drea’s dad. A willingness to sacrifice an innocent . . . like that Bible story.  Abraham.

  The woods towered like a wall in front of them as JD parked the car. He got out and retrieved two backpacks and a can of gasoline from the trunk. Melissa eyed the supplies warily, hugging herself. The wind whipped her hair around her face. She looked so small.

  “You have to trust me,” JD pleaded. “If not for me, then do it for Em.”

  “Don’t try to make me feel guilty,” she said. “I’ve already agreed, haven’t I?”

  That’s when he knew she was on board. He threw her the lighter of the two backpacks and clicked on his heavy-duty flashlight. “Follow me.”

  She nodded. “I’m right behind you.”

  * * *

  They made their way quickly beneath stooped pines and the incandescent moon, moving at a pace that was somewhere between a walk and a run, even as the clouds continued to encroach on the sky and the wind tore shrilly through the trees. Branches tore at JD’s sleeves and backpack but he didn’t care. He had to keep moving. To stay still was to succumb to the evil that permeated these woods. As they walked, he gathered up pieces of kindling and small sticks to burn. Then there was a whistling behind him, in the trees.

  “Is that you, Mel?” he asked sharply. It stopped.

  “Is what me?” she replied. “I didn’t do anything.”

  They knew. They were here.

  By the time they stepped out into the gloomy clearing, both he and his sister were short of breath.

  A few lights flickered inside the house, and the air was practically buzzing with energy from the oncoming storm—or maybe from the Furies’ presence.

  There was no way of knowing whether Ty and the other girls were inside; JD just had to hope that the ritual would draw them in from wherever it was they existed. He felt sick to his stomach, nauseous with nerves and doubts. But he thought of the case inside the Furies’ house, the one with Em’s pen and Drea’s pin, and it stoked the fire of anger inside him.

  He indicated silently to Melissa that they should go around to the back of the house. To the garden. She nodded.

  They went as quietly as possible, staying close to the walls. JD was practically afraid to breathe. He kept imagining the shadows transforming, taking shape, morphing into Ty’s wide smile or Meg’s staring eyes.

  “The garden is so beautiful,” Melissa whispered.

  JD stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

  “What we’re walking through. It’s pretty.” She gestured all around them.

  All JD saw was a charred patch of dirt, dotted with charred stumps and dead, strawlike stalks of grass. Errant stones, once part of a garden wall, lay scattered around the yard. Whatever Melissa’s joke was, he didn’t get it. “Whatever, Mel, let’s just keep going.”

  “It’s hard to believe something so beautiful could be so bad,” she said, reaching up to make a picking motion with her fingers. Then she passed her hand toward him. While she was doing it, it looked like a miming exercise. But as soon as their fingers touched, JD felt a jolt run through him. He felt something between his thumb and his pointer finger, something like a stem. He blinked.

  The garden seemed to grow in front of him, with greenery shooting up from the ground and pushing forcefully over high stone walls that were miraculously erected out of the rubble in a matter of seconds. It was like watching a movie in fast-forward. The enormous garden of flowers crystallized in a flash of magic, framed by drooping willows that sprouted instantaneously from blackened stumps.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  This was the place. It was time.

  “Stay here,” he mouthed to Melissa as he started unpacking his backpack. With one of the sticks, he scratched a large protective circle in the ground. He motioned that she should sit in the middle of it. She did. Her eyes were big and scared. He kneeled down and took her shoulders. “Nothing will happen to you,�
� he said, digging out both snake pins from his pockets and pinning them hastily to her shirt. He had to move fast now. The moon was almost directly overhead. He arranged the sticks in a circle around her, some of them pointing vertically toward the sky, others in clumps on the ground, following the line he’d drawn in the dirt. He piled orchid petals, ripped from their stems, around everything. Then he ran back over to the supplies, grabbed the can of gasoline, and squirted a bit of that over the sticks. They’d been wet with spring rain. He needed to be sure they caught fire.

  Melissa whimpered. “What are you doing?” There was panic in her voice.

  “No matter what happens, don’t move,” he said. His hands were shaking. Then he repeated his vow: “Nothing will happen to you. I promise. Just don’t move.”

  With trembling hands, he pulled a matchbook from his pants pocket. Was he really going to do this?

  You know as well as anyone that this is dead serious, Ali had said. And she was right. He’d already lost one friend and he was in danger of losing another. All his paths were blocked. All except this one.

  “You ready?” he asked Melissa.

  She nodded but couldn’t contain another whimper.

  With every ounce of false confidence he could muster, he smiled at her—the same smile he’d given her a hundred times, over board games or the dinner table or at their grandparents’ house when Grandma Rose started telling the story of the pickle jar. It was a smile that said, We’re in this together. I’m feeling what you’re feeling. I’ve got your back.

  When she tried, and failed, to smile back, his heart nearly broke.

  Now.

  He lit the match, crouched down, and held the tiny flame to a piece of kindling. It nearly singed his fingernails. A trail of sulfur hung in the air once he shook the match out. Then another, and another. The branches caught fire almost immediately, and the circle went whoosh, up in flames like a domino chain of red heat. Then, crackling and popping, the familiar sounds of a campfire. He walked backward, taking in the scene.