“I’m full.” Emily rubbed her arm, examining the small welt growing there. “Let’s go to my room. Kelly has a surprise for us.”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t get the stain out of the carpet. It appalled me that Emily would sacrifice her mother’s carpet just to get at me. Giving up, I moved a chair over the stain.

  Part of me wanted to just camp out on the living room couch for the night, reading my book until it was time to go home. But I’d made a promise to Dad, so I made my way up the stairs to Emily’s room.

  Her door was closed, and I could hear them laughing. I turned the knob, half-surprised to find they hadn’t locked me out. I stood awkwardly, just inside the room, and just outside the circle they’d formed on the floor.

  “Hmm,” Emily said, looking me up and down. “We’re playing Truth or Dare. I guess you can join us.”

  “Close the door,” Kelly hissed. She was hiding something behind her back. I squeezed between Mara and Nicole, and Kelly pulled out a bottle of rum.

  She tried to hand me the bottle. I didn’t take it. “If you want to stay, then you have to drink.”

  “Then you’re a party to the crime,” Emily said, “and won’t be able to tell.”

  “Yeah, drink,” Nicole said.

  Emily grabbed the bottle and shoved it at me. “Drink or die.”

  I looked around at the girls. Mara watched me stoically. I put the bottle to my lips, held my breath, and took a sip. My throat burned and I gasped. Everyone else laughed. Everyone except Mara.

  “Okay,” Emily said. “Zadie, truth or dare?”

  There was no way I was doing another foolish thing at the moment. My body was still trying to adjust to the burning liquid. “Truth.”

  “Are you a virgin?”

  Kelly and Nicole burst into laughter.

  “Yes,” I said, unashamed. I hadn’t even been kissed yet, so I couldn’t imagine how long it would be before I got to that phase of a relationship. I wasn’t in a hurry, either.

  “Frigid,” Emily sang in a fake soprano.

  “Or a tease.” Kelly smirked at me.

  “No way Gavin’s gonna stand for that much longer.” Emily’s expression was pompous, as if telling me I should mark her words.

  “Okay, me, me!” Nicole said. “Emily, truth or dare.”

  “Truth. And give me the rum; I’m supposed to drink first.”

  I handed her the bottle and tried to get comfortable in the circle, but I still felt like I was outside of it—only peeking in, hanging on the frayed edge.

  “Who is the last person you made out with?” Nicole asked her.

  More giggling. I grit my teeth at the sound. Emily’s smile vanished for a second, her eyes wide. The giggles died away as the lemmings waited for Emily to answer. Emily’s eyes darted between us. She cleared her throat and turned to Mara, grabbing her hands.

  “Okay, promise not to get mad,” Emily said to my sister. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while, but then you got hit by that bus and then the coma and … the last guy I kissed was Luke.”

  Eyes widened and voices hushed. Mara stared at Emily, who was biting her lip and making an apologetic face.

  “When?” Mara asked.

  “It was nothing, I swear.” Emily waved a manicured hand, like she could wave away her guilt. “It was just this party. And it was after you broke up. We both got kind of drunk, and … it just happened. It was just kissing, I swear nothing more. I was going to tell you, but then … say you’re not mad.”

  We all sat frozen, waiting for Mara to react. If it was the old Mara, the sister I remembered, she’d fly into a rage, cursing at Emily. Their friendship would be broken for a few days, long enough to give the school something to gossip about, and then Emily would beg for forgiveness and they’d make up, and everything would go back to how it was. But the new Mara didn’t react that way. New Mara regarded Emily with cold eyes that seemed to look through her. Then, slowly, a corner of her mouth turned up, and I saw fire in her eyes. She tilted her head, almost mechanically, and blinked.

  “I’m not mad,” Mara said, indifference in her voice. Her tone and expression triggered the memory of her saying those same words to Luke her first day back at school. Why should I be mad at you? You’re nothing to me. Cold fingers of concern crept up my spine.

  I glanced at Emily, but she looked relieved. Like she’d been forgiven.

  “Okay, let me go now.” Kelly took the bottle and handed it to Mara. “Truth or dare?”

  Mara took a quick swig of the rum and licked her lips. “Truth.”

  “Have you ever kissed a girl?”

  The lemmings bubbled with laughter, shoving each other playfully.

  “No,” Mara answered, straight-faced. She held the bottle out to Emily. “Truth or dare, Emily? We haven’t had a dare in a while, why don’t you pick that?”

  “Um, okay. Dare.” Emily took the rum and swallowed some.

  Mara tilted her head. “I dare you to kiss me.”

  “What?”

  “I just want to see what my boyfriend found so interesting,” Mara said.

  The lemmings lost themselves in giggles again. Emily looked suspicious. Maybe she wasn’t so dumb after all. The expression on Mara’s face gave me a bad feeling.

  “Mara, don’t.”

  “Stay out of this, Zadie.” Emily glared at me, pursing her lips. “Fine. I accept the dare.”

  Emily inched closer to Mara. The lemmings hushed. No one breathed. Right before their lips touched, Emily closed her eyes. But Mara’s remained open, fixed on Emily.

  She grabbed Emily by the back of the head and crushed their mouths together. The kiss itself was surprising enough; but then Emily’s eyes popped open wide, and her face turned gray. Red, jagged lines spread through the white of her eyes. When Mara finally released her, Emily fell backward, convulsing. The lemmings screamed. Emily’s arms flailed, knocking over the bottle of rum. Her lips turned blue as she choked.

  “What’s happening?” Kelly jumped to her feet and backed away.

  Mara stared at Emily, and I stared at Mara, not altogether surprised to find the look in her eyes not one of shock, but of victory.

  “She’s epileptic.” Nicole ran for the door. “We have to get her mom. Kelly, stash the rum.”

  Nicole disappeared, but Kelly stood frozen against the wall. I grabbed the bottle and threw it under Emily’s bed. Then I wrapped my fingers around Mara’s wrist. She slowly turned her head to me.

  “What did you do?” I whispered.

  Emily’s mother rushed into the room and dropped to the floor next to her daughter, motioning us all back. She held her hands out to Emily, but didn’t touch her, all the while muttering, “Oh, Emmy, baby. Mommy’s here.”

  In between Emily’s jerks, her mother instructed us to wait in the hall. She sounded calm, but stress creased her face. I kept looking over my shoulder as we shuffled out the door. Emily’s mother mostly blocked my view, but I could still see Emily’s arms and legs thrashing uncontrollably. My stomach clenched up, a bad feeling coursing through me.

  Kelly whimpered. “Is she going to die?”

  My eyes shot to Mara. She stared at nothing. Either my eyes were playing tricks on me, or the shadow on the wall behind her darkened. Mara didn’t blink, her face pale, like she was made of porcelain. Zombie-mode had kicked up a notch.

  “I don’t think we should stay here tonight,” I said. “I don’t know anything about epilepsy, but Emily might need to go to the hospital or something, and we’ll just be in the way.” I tried not to sound relieved.

  Kelly and Nicole looked at each other, as if silently asking each other what they should do now that Emily wasn’t around to tell them.

  “You can come stay at my house,” Nicole said to Kelly. “My mom would be cool about picking us up.”

  “What about our stuff?” Kelly asked.

  “We’ll get it tomorrow. Come on.”

  I waited until they’d disappeared down the stairs before I turned to Mara. “Slumber party’s over. We’re going home.”

  “That’s a shame.” She didn’t smile, but her brows rose. “It was just getting interesting.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When I peeked into Mara’s room the next morning, she was still asleep. She made a strange face every now and then, like she was in pain. I wondered what haunted her dreams. It was too much to hope that it might be guilt.

  I touched my head to the doorframe and watched her. I didn’t understand a world where Mara was cruel enough to hurt people. Surely being Vila—if that’s what we really were—didn’t make us monsters. Maybe Emily really did just have an epileptic seizure. But my gut told me it couldn’t be that simple. I shuddered as I quietly left her doorway and headed downstairs.

  Dad was already awake, reading a newspaper in the kitchen.

  “Morning.” He turned the page without looking up. “Any plans today?”

  I grabbed some juice from the fridge and poured myself a glass. As I stood at the sink looking out the window, movement caught my eye. A black cat sat on the lawn, her yellow eyes fixed on me. It was a safe bet it was the same one that followed me home from school. My life was just that weird.

  “I have to go to the library.”

  I hated lying to him, but I didn’t think he’d approve of my real plans.

  As if it knew what I’d just resigned myself to, the cat pranced toward the front step. Like it was waiting for me. Nope, that wasn’t weird at all. “Naomi and I have a Lit project due next week,” I explained as I eyed the cat, “and I’m kind of behind.”

  “Okay. Bring your phone.”

  “Mm-hm.” I grabbed my jacket and called out a goodbye as I headed out.

  I found the cat rubbing its side against the front step. I reached down to stroke her silky back. Her body arched against the gentle weight of my fingers and her tail shot straight up in the air.

  “What’s your name, anyway?” I murmured, reaching under her neck to flip her tag around. Except for a strange symbol, it was blank. No name. No phone number. No rabies vaccination date. It didn’t matter; I had a good idea who she belonged to. “All right, stalker cat, let’s get you home.”

  As if she understood me, the cat jumped from the step and strutted off down the street. I didn’t bother to match her quick pace—I knew where she was headed.

  A few blocks later, I found her pacing in a circle on the front porch of Lilura Black’s house, meowing to be let in. Familiar scents of incense and strong spices welcomed me when I rang the doorbell. I shook out my arms and stretched my neck, preparing myself.

  When Lilura finally came to the door, her brow was already arched. I suspected she might be smirking, but her lips were so withered and twisted that it was impossible to know for sure. She pushed open the screen door, and her cat bolted inside.

  “Come back for some of my delicious tea, have you?”

  My mouth tasted sour just thinking about it. “To talk, actually.”

  I followed her to the dining room table, where she motioned for me to sit down. She then hobbled into the kitchen, and I grimaced, mentally readying myself to endure her tea torture once more.

  “There’s something wrong with my sister.” I had to talk loud enough that she would hear me over the clanging and banging going on in the kitchen. I hoped she didn’t think I was shouting.

  Her square head poked through the doorway. “I should imagine so.”

  She disappeared for another minute, then came out holding two tea cups. The cat followed her to the table, then rubbed herself against my jeans.

  “Her name is Sable.” Lilura dropped into the chair opposite me with a considerable thunk.

  “Her collar just has a symbol on it.”

  “Yes. A symbol of the old language.”

  “Really? What does it mean?”

  Lilura narrowed her eyes at me. “It means Sable.”

  My mouth twisted in discontent. “I, um, looked some things up on the Internet. About Vila and Grim Reapers and stuff.”

  “Didn’t find much, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  Lilura slapped her hand on the table. “Well, I could have told you that was a waste of time. You kids think all the answers are on your computers.”

  I shrunk down in my chair a little. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with my sister?”

  “It’s your fault, you know.”

  “What? My fault? What did I do?”

  “You interrupted the Reaper’s Rite.”

  “How did I do that?”

  “You used your magic to bring your sister back. Are you dense?”

  I was about to defend myself, but the tea kettle whistled. Lilura left me at the table with my mind swirling. I sat for a minute, letting her words sink in. I did this. It was my fault. Just like Mara said. But I didn’t even know what I was doing.

  Lilura came back and placed the tea pot on the table. I eyed it warily. “To understand, you have to know how Vila came about.”

  “Okay.”

  She poured our tea as she spoke. “It all dates back to when faeries and witches were separate beings. A young faery girl went traveling with her parents—the king and queen of the faeries—through the Velebit mountain range in Europe to a wedding. They made camp one night, but the faery princess was restless. She danced beneath the full moon almost until dawn. She was very tired the next morning, and very foolish, and so when the caravan continued on, she fell behind. When she finally found the trail she was supposed to take, she ran into a man. But he was no ordinary man. He was the son of a very powerful witch.

  “Faeries and witches did not exactly get along. The faery kingdom had always accused the witches of using spells to try to steal faery powers. The witches accused the faeries of sabotaging their progress in the magic world by using their power of manipulation. So, although it was against what was normal, the young couple fell in love.”

  “Forbidden love? Are you serious?”

  She waved a hand to shut me up. “They knew their love would not be accepted by their families, so they kept it a secret. But one day, the boy’s mother found out. She confronted the faery king, and together they decided that their children should never see each other again. But the young couple wouldn’t hear of it, and they ran away together. Well, this was no good. The faery king accused the witch’s son of kidnapping, and he declared war on the entire witch population.”

  I waited for her to continue, but she merely narrowed her eyes at me. It wasn’t until she motioned to my tea cup that I understood what she wanted. I lifted the cup and took an agonizing sip.

  “This war went on for a long time. So long that, in time, the faery and warlock had a multitude of daughters. The crossbreed of witch and faery. Vila.”

  “A multitude?”

  “Well, what did you expect?” She slurped her tea and let out a satisfied sigh. “Faeries often have dozens of children in their lifetime, especially since they live so long.”

  “Really? How long?”

  She shrugged. “About six hundred years, I guess. That’s about average for a Pixie. Sprites’ lives are shorter. Goblins can live for over a century—”

  “Wait, wait,” I said, waving a hand. Pixies, sprites, and goblins? It was too much to take in. “Are you saying I could live to be a couple hundred years old?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  My gaze dropped to the floor and my brow creased. “Oh. Sorry, it’s a lot of information to wrap my head around.”

  “This is just the beginning. You see those books?”

  I glanced at the bookshelves. “Yeah?”

  “Those are history books. The history of Vila. Your history.”

  I swallowed, taking in the sheer magnitude of information on those shelves. I turned back to her and cradled my tea cup. “So where does the Grim Reaper come into the story?”

  “The queen of the witches became weary of the war. She was desperate for it to end, and so she summoned a Reaper. Reapers are demon spirits who hold old, dark magic, and they have the ability to give and take power—just as they are able to give and take life.”

  I shuddered. Before I realized what I was doing, I took a sip of my tea.

  “She asked the Reaper for the power to win the war over the faeries. The Reaper agreed to give her what she wanted, in exchange for the soul of every faery witch, to be collected once they passed their seventeenth birthday.”

  My breath stopped and my blood went cold. “She agreed to that?”

  Lilura nodded gravely. “She cared nothing for her mutant descendants. Of course, Reapers are … unpredictable. They don’t claim every Vila. Some go on to live perfectly normal lives. Those who don’t usually suffer from the Reaper’s efforts. Reapers ultimately want the Vila’s soul so they can consume the power of both witch and faery. But Vila aren’t so weak that they would just give themselves over right away. They are strong enough to fend off the Reaper’s attempts—for a while anyway. But fending off a Reaper drains Vila power. They weaken. When the Vila is weak enough, the Reaper will take them away to fully consume their souls. Reapers also feed off pain, torture, suffering. They’re like snacks to them, if you want to put it into perspective. Or appetizers before the big meal.”

  I shook my head, taking it all in. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it completely, but some of the pieces were falling into place. “So why Mara?”

  “Vila who use their powers for their own greedy advantage or personal gain are more prone to fall victim to Reapers. Once they turn seventeen, that is. It’s like setting off a beacon. You see, different energy is released depending on the kind of magic a Vila performs. If the intent is for the wrong reasons, a dark energy is expelled. That particular energy calls to the Reaper.”

  I bit my lip, taking in the information. “And before the age of seventeen?”

  Lilura shrugged with one shoulder. “Vila powers don’t fully develop until they turn seventeen. Sure, you can pull off many unbelievable things, but a Vila your age usually isn’t able to pull off dark magic, especially without training. In any case, once you turn seventeen, that’s when you have to watch out. Get greedy with your powers, and you’re asking for trouble.”