The brakes are a good idea. You know I’m counting on you. S.
My mouth goes dry, and I reread the message again. The date makes my chest tight, and I have to pull to the side of the road until I can breathe again.
It’s the same week that my parents died. And they owned a black Lexus.
You’re welcome.
I study the e-mail, wondering why They kept it from me for so long. My stomach clenches, and I cover my mouth as I fight more tears. I have to go after Dr. Goodhart, the other monster in the closet of my mind. All I want to do is take a shower and try to wash away the past three days, before I curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep. But I won’t have that luxury. I have to assume the e-mail is one last gift from Them, one last loose end that They will let me tie up before They take control. Forever.
I crumple up the e-mail and pitch it out the window, heedless of the littering laws. I can do this. I will follow through with this. I may be doomed, but I’m taking that son of a bitch with me.
Right after I go back to my apartment and get my cat.
Then what?
I don’t care. I’m not going to worry about the future. I don’t have one.
But there is some satisfaction in knowing that Goodhart doesn’t have one either.
I’m too exhausted to drive the hour and a half back to West County, so I plan to hit up a store and then find a hotel room. Odie will understand. I’ll grab him, and then we’ll head to Harrisburg to find Goodhart. That’s all I can focus on right now.
It hurts to walk through the megastore, grabbing toiletries and food. While walking up and down the aisles, people give me odd looks, but the mothers with screaming toddlers have more pressing issues to worry about than the girl with soot smeared on her neck. I somehow managed to miss the spot, even after scrubbing my face with a wet wipe from the center console of my car. It’s surprising no one stopped me on my run to my illegally parked car. Every square inch of exposed skin was streaked with black ash, like I’d just gotten done with my part-time job as a chimney sweep.
I find the world’s cheapest room in the scariest motel in America. The bed feels like a rock, but after a hot shower I don’t really care. At least it doesn’t smell like cat piss.
I wake a few hours later, surprised by how bright the room is. It was midafternoon when I went to sleep, so I expect the room to be dark. When I turn my head toward the source of the light, I have to cover my eyes. Alekto sits in the wingback chair, a beacon in the far corner of the room.
“You have shitty timing. Where were you three days ago?” I ask. The room is hot, hotter than August in Georgia. I kick the covers off and wipe away the sweat that’s beading on my forehead. She doesn’t answer, so I say, “What are you doing here?”
“I am here to finish the story. I think you are finally ready to listen.”
I lean back against the pillows and close my eyes. I still don’t like her, but it doesn’t hurt to listen to what she has to say.
“After They joined together in the early dawn light, the Furies cut a deadly path through the land of man, killing those with the stain of evil upon their souls. Lifetimes passed, and things settled into a predictable pattern.
“But then everything changed.”
I open my eyes and study Alekto, the true Third. She glows brightly, and I look at my hands as she talks. The sight of the soot in my nail beds reminds me how much I actually need her and whatever wisdom she can offer.
“One day They were called to a small town where a priestess was accused of murdering her lover. The woman protested her innocence, and the townspeople were wary of murdering a holy woman. So they prayed that the gods would send the Furies their way. The Furies were known to be impartial, and if the woman had killed her lover, the Furies would take care of the matter in Their own way.
“The Furies arrived and read the woman’s soul, finding that she had played an unwitting part in the young man’s murder. It was revealed that the husband had poisoned the dish the woman had prepared for her lover, not knowing that the priestess had had no intention of eating the food. The Furies made to punish the husband, but before they could, a young man stepped forward from the crowd.
“He declared himself the beloved of the golden Fury, and told the crowd how he had begged the gods to grant him an endless life so that he could be with the woman he loved. The golden Fury could not remember the man, but as she stared at him, an odd thing began to happen. She began to cry, the tears washing away the sorrow that had blinded her to everything but punishing the guilty. See, her mind could not remember the man standing before her, but her heart did.”
As much as I want to hear the end of the story, I can’t help but snort. “Let me guess. He swept her up in his arms, and the two lived happily ever after. Meanwhile the other two Furies decided to kill everything in sight because that’s what They do.”
She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Not quite, but close. Tisiphone and Megaera need the soul of a human to tie Them to the mortal plane. Without a Third, They will be pulled to the underworld, the final resting place of the slain god. You already know that Their Third must have blood on her soul, even if indirectly. Blood calls to blood.”
“Good to know. But what does that have to do with me? I can’t exactly get rid of Them.”
“But you can. That is what I came to tell you. They are drawn to sorrow, to rage. But They are weakened by love and forgiveness. They seek to tempt you, to make you like Them. But there is still goodness in you. There is love. Do not let Them remake you in Their image.”
I rest my head in my hands and sigh. “They didn’t remake me in Their image; They remade me in yours.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Do not let Them change your heart. They will try to turn you back to your rage, away from your love for Niko. You must hold tight to your true feelings. As long as you are not totally corrupted, you can resist Them.”
The weight of the despair crushing my chest makes me moan a little. “Niko’s gone. He can’t help me.” The words are so low, I almost whisper them.
“You do not need him. You need the way you feel about him. The Furies are rage and anger. They do not understand love.”
It finally clicks. It’s so simple, and yet it took me all this time to finally have the answer. “I invited Them in, but They stayed because I’m just like Them.”
“No, you are not. But your anger gives Them strength, as does passing Their judgments. They have a limitless appetite for punishment. It was that hunger that drove me away. There was no room for compromise. I could not rejoin my beloved and help Them. There is nothing but vengeance for Them. I was Their true sister, born of the same blood, and They decided They would rather have the violence than me.” A wistful sadness flits across her face. “There is no way you can match Their longing for destruction.”
“So what do I do? How do I stop Them?”
Alekto smiles. “I’m still forbidden to tell you that. But I think you know the answer. Your love for Niko will give you the strength to follow through.”
I blink. That’s less than helpful. “That’s it?”
She stands and walks toward the door. “I wish I could give you a clear answer, but you just need to know you have the power to resist Them.”
I laugh bitterly. “Great. Thanks for the pep talk.”
She turns around and gives me a knowing look. “Focus on your feelings for Niko to help you save yourself. Take strength from your love for him. The only thing separating us from Them is our capacity to love.”
She walks through the door and disappears in a flash of light, and when the spots clear, I’m still sitting in bed. I pinch my arm, the pain assuring me it wasn’t a dream. This is the first time she has appeared while I’m awake, and that sets off alarm bells. Something has changed.
But what?
I stretch and get out of bed, surprised that I’m refreshed and revived. All of my hurts and aches have disappeared, and even the bruise on my hip, which was the color
of concord grapes when I took my shower, has disappeared when I examine the spot.
See? We do have our benefits, dear.
The voice in my head gives me pause. It sounds . . . louder, somehow. I go into the bathroom to relieve the pressure on my bladder, and when I’m done, I examine my reflection in the chipped mirror behind the sink. There are deep shadows under my eyes, and my face looks haunted. My hair is frizzy. On either side of me I can see Their ghostly outlines, and Tisiphone waves at me happily.
“Go away,” I say.
Megaera frowns and strokes my hair. Fear trills through me at the tug on my scalp. I shouldn’t be able to feel Their touch.
Now, now. Why the long face?
Tisiphone picks up a length of my hair and twists it into a braid along the front of my hairline. She finger combs the snarls from my hair, and the curls magically smooth out into shining coils. I try not to flinch at the caress of her talons.
Someone’s been talking to Alekto. Poor dear. Our wretched sister must’ve unsettled you. Has she been spinning her lies again?
I swallow thickly. “Yeah, something like that.” They step away from me. Their smiles are strained, and fear sours my stomach. “So, are we going after Dr. Goodhart, or are we going to hang out here and do makeovers all night?”
They don’t move, and instead of giving in to my terror, I drive my fist into the mirror, cracking it. Anger They understand and respect. The pain is bracing, but fades too quickly. I look at my hand, the scrapes on my knuckles already fading away. A faint shimmering hovers above my arms, and I recognize the shape of the silver chains. Something has changed.
Alekto misunderstands. Megaera hisses in my mind. We don’t want control. We want a partnership. Don’t you want to belong, to have sisters?
Ah, so that’s the tactic They’re trying now. Instead of a hostile takeover, They want cooperation. They hope I’ll just give in and let Them turn me into a single-minded killing machine.
Sadly, it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.
I’m so tired. I’ve lost Niko, and I can’t think about anything else right now. My heart is raw, and even thinking about him brings tears to my eyes. I can’t struggle against Them and try to get over Niko. I’m just not strong enough.
Plus, I want Goodhart dead. No mercy for the bastard.
“Of course I want sisters. Nothing would make me happier.”
They move close to me again, whispering platitudes and flattery, twisting my hair into some complex style of a civilization long gone. I close my eyes to block out the sight of Them, and to hide the frustrated tears that burn behind my eyes.
I’m not even strong enough to fight.
I don’t think I ever was.
NOT MUCH LEFT TO ANALYZE
I speed all the way back to my apartment, anxious to get Odie and get to Harrisburg to find Goodhart. I can see Them the entire time out of the corners of my eyes, and Their constant presence disturbs me. Somehow They’ve manifested of Their own accord, and no matter how much I try, I can’t grasp Them with my mind, let alone shove Them back into my subconscious.
I’m terrified, but I push my fear aside and just drive. Eventually I feel nothing, my terror numbing me and silencing the thoughts running through my mind. The only thoughts come from Their running dialogue.
The Furies urge me on with fevered whispers, cajoling me to pull over and start a massacre in every small town we pass through. They detail how much fun we could have injuring other motorists, and how many men we will punish once we are finished with Goodhart. There is an almost painful pressure behind my eyes as They blather on nonstop, Megaera in the passenger seat, Tisiphone behind me, her wings taking up the entire backseat. They both wear wide Joker-esque smiles, and I wonder if They are happier about Their freedom or the impending killing.
The only good thing about having Them in the car is that the heat of Their presence completely negates the frigid air coming in through my broken back window.
When did I get so good at looking on the bright side?
It takes me only an hour to get back to my apartment from the roadside motel where I crashed. I trudge upstairs, dragging my feet up each step like it weighs a hundred pounds. Dread has settled on my shoulders like a wet blanket, and I’m not sure how to stop the impending disaster. There is no way this can go well. At some point They will figure out that I’m not exactly overjoyed at the thought of being Their pet.
First my cat, then everything else. One thing at a time or I’ll break.
I get to my door and rest my head against the jamb, gathering my thoughts. I’m so tired, exhaustion that goes bone-deep. Is this the physical toll for carting Them around? Will They burn through my life too fast, the price of Their presence my few allotted years on this planet? It might be preferable to the alternative, an eternity spent at Their bloody beck and call.
I push my key into the lock, open the door, slip inside, and close the door behind me. I move into the apartment, calling for Odie. A muted footfall echoes behind me, and I turn. A crawling sensation writhes over my exposed skin, like insects walking across my arms.
Goodhart stands in the doorway to my bedroom, Odie in his arms. “You know, I’ve never cared for cats. They simply don’t have the loyalty that dogs do. Did you know that cats will actually eat their owners after they die? Dogs will starve before they take a single bite of their beloved master.”
I will not show my fear. “You know you look like a B-movie villain, right?” Odie jumps down when he sees me and twines around my ankles. I bend down to scoop him up, ignoring the gun that Goodhart points at me. Well, this is new.
“What are you doing here?”
“I saw you and your little boyfriend in Harrisburg. Luckily, the librarian at the state archives is a friend of mine, and he handed over your information when he heard that you were a former patient of mine. Apparently, you seemed a little off to him.”
So said the guy who freaked when I asked to look at a book. I don’t say that, though. The doctor does have a gun pointed at my chest.
“So, you came here to kill me? Nice. By the way, you look great.”
He looks like hell. His eyes are shadowed and a little wild, the scar from Tisiphone’s talons making him look sinister. His blond hair has grayed too early, and his clothes are dirty and wrinkled, and the hand pointing the gun at me trembles. He looks as bad as I feel.
“Shut up, you stupid bitch. You’ve ruined me. Do you know how much money I lost when you escaped? For more than a year I invested in you, and then you ran.” He says it like he can’t believe a creature he cared for would turn on him. “And then you try to kill me, hunting me like some animal. I saved your life.”
“Funny, I don’t quite remember it that way. You used me as a guinea pig. And you killed my parents.” A flicker of surprise crosses his face, and I laugh. “Ohmigod, you thought I didn’t know? Who do you think They are?” I gesture over my shoulders, and he frowns.
“Who are you talking about? I don’t see anyone.”
I shrug. “My friends. You remember Them? Tisiphone did give you a memento last time we met,” I say, tapping my cheek.
His expression darkens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You did this. You’re sick, Amelie.”
I pause. What if he’s right? What if They’re all in my head? Fear makes me cold, and I clutch Odie close.
No. They’re real. They’re just waiting for me to take the offensive.
I adjust my weight, moving forward slightly so I can get in a good kick. Before I can make my move, Goodhart gives me a twisted smile. He levels the gun between my eyes, and a sliver of panic shreds my bravado. Where are They? He waves the gun at me. “It doesn’t matter. Soon you’ll be dead, and I’ll be able to live my life without looking over my shoulder.”
I bury my face in Odie’s fur, and inhale his kitty scent. A single awful thought crosses my mind, but I don’t want to consider it. I shake my head, and beam at Goodhart. “Okay.”
He gi
ves me a confused look, and I go to the front door. I don’t want to die, not at all, but I have to admit that it probably is best all around if he kills me. If I die, They’ll lose Their tie to this world.
Or at least I hope so.
I open the door, Dr. Goodhart a nervous shadow behind me. “What are you doing?” he snaps, the gun waving in my direction.
I drop Odie on the other side of the door. He meows at me once before walking down the stairs. He’s finally getting his wish to go outside. I hope he remembers enough to survive until some Good Samaritan finds him.
I close the door softly and turn back to Dr. Goodhart. “I was letting my cat go. Now, we were discussing your killing me. You should probably do it soon, because I’m pretty sure They won’t like you taking away Their chance for freedom.”
“Who?” he snaps.
“Them.” I gesture, and he turns around to where They’ve manifested behind him. The serpent grabs him by the throat, and he drops his gun, the weapon clattering on the floor. Megaera throws him against the wall. He crashes into the drywall and cracks it. There goes my security deposit.
Dr. Goodhart groans and scrabbles away from Tisiphone, who’s advancing on him with deliberate steps. She smiles at him with a mouth full of pointed teeth.
“Don’t be afraid. This is only going to hurt a lot.” Her throaty voice makes the words an even greater mockery of his fear. She kicks him in the ribs, the whoosh of his exhaled breath audible throughout the room.
Megaera clucks. “Now, now, Sister. Don’t take all of the fun for yourself. This is Amelie’s vengeance. A deal’s a deal.”
Tisiphone pouts momentarily and then gives a languid shrug. “I suppose so. The first one didn’t really count, did it? After all, you didn’t even get a chance to touch him before we tore him apart.”
I blink, and something in the back of my mind clicks. There are a lot of memories I don’t want, too full of pain and fear for my mind to process. But there’s one that I need, and it floats to the top.
For the first time the memory of Roland Thomas’s death comes back to me. The hawk is right. Before, all I could remember was all the blood, but as I focus, the events of that day fall into place. I remember it now. The rage that had burned in my chest, propelling me up the stairs. Their voices crowding out all rational thought. Roland Thomas screaming in pain and fear while I stood rooted to my spot by the basement door. And then . . .
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