It seemed that being summoned didn't quite agree with my stomach.

I'd bolted out of Jayda's bed and into her bathroom, retching as soon as I got there. The vomiting didn't stop right away - it took a while, and Jayda soon appeared, rubbing my back and making soothing noises that didn't really soothe me at all. Gripping the edges of the germ infested porcelain, I dry heaved a little longer before pulling away, wiping my mouth off on my sleeve.

Jayda flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to wash her hands. "Please don't tell me that your asexual ass is pregnant."

I snorted.

"Really, though, what is it?" She turned off the faucet and joined me on the floor, smoothing her nightgown as she settled. "Are you feeling sick?"

"I just woke up and felt nauseous. Probably nothing."

"Maybe you got rabies or something."

"For a straight-A student, you're an idiot. Nothing bit me."

She sighed. "Bottling things up is why you ended up in the woods, you know. Jake was out of his mind that night. Kept saying he never should've left you that night."

It took a second for that to click. Earlier today, Jake had said that he hadn't seen me since he'd walked me home from school that day. Again, my stomach started to twist up into knots. That, coupled with his surprise when he saw me, made me more than uneasy.

Jake Mendel. Sweet, harmless Jake, was the only suspect I had for my murder, and I didn't feel ready to face that at all. Sure, we fought once in a while. But it was always over something silly and petty, and one of us would always come to the other blabbering an apology after a few hours. There was never true anger between the both of us. Nothing even close. We were the perfect high school cliché.

I shrugged, keeping my face as straight as I could for Jayda. "He's an idiot. It wasn't his fault," I told her.

My boyfriend might've killed me.

⁂

Gran dropped me off at Amanda's shop the following morning, telling me, with a pointed look, that she couldn't come in because she needed to restock on groceries.

"You look like shit," were the first words said to me as I stepped through the beaded curtains in the doorway. "And what's with the glitter? You look like a disco ball."

Adrian was seated at Amanda's table. He appeared far from well rested - the shadows beneath his eyes seemed to be worse, and there was a yellow tinge to his tanned skin that I hadn't noticed yesterday. The clothes he wore - jeans and a striped button up - gave the illusion that he was far more put together than me in my pilled sweats.

I greeted him with a look of disdain and a taste of my ever biting wit as I sat down. "You are shit."

"Good morning, zombies!" Amanda said cheerily, emerging from the back of the shop with a stack of book in her arms. The smile on her face was radiant, a far cry from the both of us. She dropped the books all down at the table before plopping onto a chair opposite of us, throwing her head back and letting out a sigh. "I've been expecting you."

"Because you're psychic?" Adrian asked her. He didn't seem at all as skeptic as I'd been. More intrigued.

"No," I snorted, "because I called to tell her last night."

Amanda opened her eyes. "Where's Akila?"

"She needed to get groceries. I ate all our food yesterday."

Amanda's joyous demeanor seemed to waver just a bit. "You've been hungry?"

"Starving."

Her gaze flickered to Adrian. "And you?"

"I'm hungry. I mean, I'm always hungry, but now I'm way more hungry."

"Stop saying hungry," I muttered.

"Stop getting glitter everywhere," he shot back.

Amanda poked my arm and inspected the few flecks that rubbed off. "I like it!"

"It wasn't a choice. Anubis summoned me in the middle of some concert."

Her head snapped up. "You probably should have led with that. What did he say?"

"I'm a powerful god, blah, blah, blah. You shouldn't fight me, blah, blah, blah. If you don't listen, it won't end well, blah, blah, blah."

Adrian lowered his head into his hands. "I was an atheist."

Amanda ignored him. "Did he warn you or threaten you?"

"I don't know. Both?"

She furrowed her brows. It seemed she didn't like my answer. "I see. Have you found any other risen? Aside from Adrian the Atheist?"

"I didn't think to go looking."

"No, I suppose not. You've had enough to do, to handle." She flipped open one of her books, a journal, to a marked page. "I've been looking into this curse and it's not very... destructive."

Adrian emerged from his cocoon of existential crisis. "Is that a joke?"

"Not at all. Anubis wants you to kill your killers. And once you do that, your lives return to normal."

"Anubis showed me what would happen if we didn't listen. Blood everywhere. People dying."

"And then, eventually, you'd be dead yourself. Just like he told you when he sent you back. But the point is that he wants to avoid that. If he truly wanted to wreck havoc, shouldn't he keep you from killing your murderers?" Amanda tapped her painted fingernails against her journal. "Why would he want this in the first place?"

"Real estate."

Amanda squinted.

Adrian made a distressed sound without even opening his mouth.

"It doesn't make sense to me either, but it's what he said. Maybe he doesn't want this getting out of control because it might backfire on him somehow."

Adrian just shook his head. "None of that matters. What matters is finding a way to undo it. Or get out of it."

"I need more time for that. And I'll need Akila."

"Neith's grandmother? Why?"

"She's a scholar. Studied all this stuff." Amanda pointed to the deck of cards set aside. "The reason you're here, Adrian, is because of this. Tarot cards. I want a reading."

He pushed the deck toward her, visibly nervous as she spread the cards out.

"Pick three, hon."

He did, taking his time to pick them out.

Amanda flipped them over. "Death. River. Guardian." She gathered the cards altogether, shuffling them back into a deck. "Better than Neith's, I suppose. Death seems to be a common factor. It represents the both of your returns."

"What about the other stuff?"

"I don't know enough yet. Death came first for both of you. This feels like... there's order to your cards. Your stories being told."

"Anything that can help us yet?" I pressed.

Amanda smiled at me, trying to be comforting. "Not yet. But I'm working on this full-time, believe me. Anything else?"

"I still don't remember dying."

"That," she said, standing up and moving to a corner of the room, "I think I might have a solution for." She picked up a necklace off a display - a bulky blue crystal hanging from the end. "I'm assuming you have some sort of amnesia. This has healing properties. Keep it on - if the reason you can't remember is physical, this should help."

"What if it's not physical?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She tossed it, clapping her hands together when I caught it. "Until then, I'll be working on this curse. You focus on figuring out who killed you."

I got up with Adrian to leave, finally managing to return her smile. "Thanks. For all of this."

"No problem. Happy hunting."

With the crystal around my neck and my arms wrapped around myself, I went out the door, Adrian not too far behind. Before he had the chance to leave, I caught his arm.

"What is it?"

"I need you to come with me somewhere else."

Adrian raised his chin. "Where?"

"My boyfriend's house. When I came back in the woods, I was wrapped in carpet. I want to see if any of the rooms in his house are missing one."

"You think he-"

"No. But I need to be sure."

⁂

A month ago, Jake had made me a copy of the key to his house. Just in case, he'd said, pushing it into my hands one morning. It didn't feel odd at the time, just thrilling. Looking back, I couldn't see why he'd think I'd ever needed. After that day, I started keeping it in a drawer at home, sealed in a pretty stationery envelope. Before I headed out to Amanda's today, I was sure to grab it.

I wondered what circumstances he imagined me using it for. It couldn't possibly be this.

Adrian seemed very excited at the prospect of sneaking into Jake's house and was sure to bombard me with questions on the way there. Most of them along the lines of, 'Is he hot?', 'Can I see a picture?', and 'How come you don't have a picture?' For whatever reason, it didn't really annoy me.

The Mendel house was something plucked out of the American Dream - white picket fence and all. They took annual family portraits for their Christmas cards, held Fourth of July barbeques. Mrs. Mendel was an esteemed child therapist, and Mr. Mendel was a lawyer. The picture perfect family.

No cars were in the driveway - nobody seemed to be at home. Jake was at school and his parents at work. We'd be in and out with no one the wiser.

I let us in and Ardian grabbed a frame off the stand in the living room, whispering, "Oh, he is hot. I knew it."

That night, I hadn't gotten a very good look at the carpet, but I'd been to this house so many times, I would know if anything was out of place. If anything was missing. We did a quick search, peeking into every room, but nothing had changed. Everything was seemed to be exactly as I remembered it.

I saved Jake's room for last, hating how guilty I felt for going in.

We stepped in and for a second, my vision was black.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring at Jake. He was livid, tight lipped, eyes narrowed, face twisted into something too monstrous to suit him. Fingers were wrapped tight around my wrist, nails digging into my skin.

"Jake, please."

"Get out, Neith."

"Jake-"

He pushed me hard - his strength sending me flying into the wall where his trophies and plaques were on display. The shelf tipped. One came hurtling down and the sudden pain blinded me.

"Neith?" another voice called.

I blinked.

No Jake. No falling awards. Just Adrian, his face swimming before my eyes.

I was laying on my back, collapsed right by Jake's door. Blinking again, trying to focus my vision, but it was as if I'd been clubbed.

"Neith? You're freaking me out. Say something."

"Ah, shit."