I lurched upright, panting and sweating, and stared around the bedroom, my heart racing. Was that—no, nothing. Nothing there. Just Rachel and me. I lunged for a bottle of water and chugged it down.
She squeezed my shoulder. “It happened, didn’t it?”
“Y-yeah.”
I was buried up to my neck in burning sand. Surrounded by scorpions, flicking their stinging tails at my face. Angels—not angels, but creepy-looking women with wings—flew around me, shrieking, clutching at my eyes. It went on forever.
Then the sand changed to water. Freezing water. My arms were chained to rocks under the surface, and I was kicking frantically to keep my face above the waves. Fish—or something—were biting my body all over. All over. And the Furies were flapping overhead, howling my name, slapping at my face.
It went on like that. I was staked out in the desert with ants chewing on my skin. I was falling thousands of feet from the top of a mountain, watching the ground rush up to kill me, while the Furies circled me, laughing. I was lashed to the top of a skyscraper during a thunderstorm, getting struck by lightning every few seconds.
And all the time the Furies—the “gracious ones”—sailed around me, laughing, screaming, taunting me—
Until Rachel woke me up.
I huddled in her arms. I knew she wanted to hit me, yell at me, tell me how stupid I’d been. But she just held me quietly as I struggled to stop shaking.
Finally I caught my breath. She slugged my arm—gently. “Now what do we do?”
“I’m not going back to sleep, that’s for sure.” I swung my legs out of the bed. “Coffee.”
“Good. You’ll be wide awake when the hallucinations kick in.” She stood up. “Am I going to have to tie you up to keep you from killing yourself? I mean, I enjoy a little bondage from time to time, but . . .”
She walked with me to the kitchen, where I made coffee. “I don’t know. In the Wikipedia article it said Orestes got out of it by holding a trial. I don’t know how I could do that.”
“What about Lisa McHugh?”
Oh my god. I didn’t have my phone. But I couldn’t call her at—I looked at the clock—4:30 in the morning. Or should I? No, she had a girlfriend who’d probably wake her up and keep her from doing anything stupid. I could wait for the morning.
But what could I do until then?
Rachel refused to let me sit in the office alone, so I brought my laptop into bed while she went back to sleep. I spent an hour researching the Furies, Eumenides, Gracious Ones, or whatever they were called, looking for a loophole. That took me down several rabbit holes of Greek drama, various mythologies, and a few porn videos, none of which had much relevance to my current situation. What was Aeschylus thinking?
So I plugged my earphones in to listen to some music while Rachel slept.
Of course I fell asleep again.
Rachel rolled over, rubbed her eyes, and sat up. “Who are you talking to?”
I pointed. “Her.”
I’d been calling her Fury Two. She had long blond hair, white wings, fangs, and blood-red eyes. She was naked. I hoped Rachel wouldn’t get too upset about that. Her two sisters had been naked too—one with long black hair, and one completely bald. They’d left, presumably to torture someone else.
<You should kill yourself> Fury Two said.
I shook my head. “Because of a stupid NDA agreement? Whatever happened to punishing kids who murdered their mothers?”
<You broke the rules you agreed on. I can help you end your torture>
“How can I make you go away?”
Rachel slugged me. I was going to get a permanent bruise soon. “Are you hallucinating now?”
“No. She’s right here. Can’t you—" I stopped. Maybe it was better if Rachel couldn’t see her. “How do I make you go away?”
“I’m not going anywhere, asshole.” She shook my arm.
“Not you, her. How do I make you—”
<Your torment will last forever as long as you walk the Earth. You know how to stop it>
I stood up and pulled my T-shirt off. “I’m going to take a shower. You’re welcome to join me.”
“You bet I’m going to join you, jerk.” Rachel hopped up. “And not for fun, either. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
I sighed. “I’m talking to one of the Furies. It’s going to get awfully crowded with the three of us in there.”
“I don’t care.”
We showered together, which would have been more interesting if Fury Two hadn’t kept up her harangue. I tried repeating what she said so Rachel could keep up with the conversation, but it got too repetitive and she told me to shut up.
The Fury kept talking during breakfast. I couldn’t exactly ignore her, but I gave up arguing. In the middle of her monolog and my cereal, my phone buzzed.
“Mr. Jurgen? This is Lisa McHugh’s roommate, Sandra. She’s going crazy here. What do I do?”
I plugged a finger into my ear. It didn’t help much. “Is she seeing things? Talking to people who aren’t there?”
“Yes! She had nightmares all night. Now she’d got her hands over her ears and she’s down on the floor. She told me what you said about that stupid piece of paper—what do I do?”
I wondered if it was Fury One or the bald-headed one. Fury Two floated just under my ceiling, shrieking like a dying cat.
I leaned my head down. “Call an ambulance. Tell them she’s a suicide risk. Let her talk to them. They’ll make sure she’s safe while I figure this out.”
“All right.” She sounded doubtful. I didn’t blame her.
<You can’t escape!> Fury Two howled. <We will follow you to the end of your days! We’ll be in your dreams! Everywhere!>
“Shut up!” I wanted to hurl my phone at her, but I was pretty sure that would only mean I’d have to buy a new phone.
Rachel grabbed my arm. “Lisa McHugh?”
“Yeah.” I gulped some coffee and checked the time—6:37. I wondered how early people showed up at Fort Financial. And how long I could last.
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