I hug my elbows. “Here’s the thing. The Lewises used to be a huge family. Everyone was murdered in Armageddon’s War because Mom was a Senator. That’s why she’s so overprotective of me. She lost everyone she loved.” I stare at the floor. “I never even got to meet them.”

Cissy pats my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“For so long I wanted to know the truth. Now I want to forget everything I’ve learned.” A warm tear rolls down the bridge of my nose.

“I understand, sweetie.”

I slump into the old office chair and watch dust motes float through the beam of light from the opened door. Somewhere an old-fashioned clock ticks away. I stare into the shadows, imagining ghostly Lewis eyes peeping at me in fear. My skin puckers into gooseflesh. Cissy gently rests her hand on my arm.

“Hey, I might have something to cheer you up.” She slides an envelope out of her pocket. “I totally shouldn’t do this.”

I look at her out of my right eye. “Do what?”

“Everyone’s freaking out in the East Wing. The thrax reserved the mansion for some event to celebrate autumn, but the ghoul minister’s kicking them out. No one wants to tell a bunch of demon fighters that they can’t use the house.” She taps the sealed envelope against her palm and looks at me expectantly. “I’m supposed to give this to one of the other Furor fighters to deliver.”

Thrax? Message? I smell payback.

I shoot Cissy my most innocent grin. “You’re right. It would totally cheer me up to go on a little errand.”

“That’s my Myla.” Cissy starts to hand me the letter, and then she pulls it back. “Don’t be surprised if they’re a little cranky about the change.”

“Oh, I can handle it.” I scoop the envelope from her hands. Zipping down my fighting suit, I set the letter against my collarbone, then zip it up again. “I’m on it.”

“One more thing. The thrax are really into their traditions. To get into their compound, you have to wear a dress and ride a horse.” Her face lands somewhere between a wince and a smile. “This could be a nice change of pace for you. Getting dressed up and all.”

I open my mouth to spill the truth: I’m not dress-girl or horse-lady. Sure, I love sneaking into the Ryder stables to kill Doxy demons, but I have no idea how to touch a horse, let alone ride it. But then I shut my yap. Screw it. I’d say just about anything for this payback fiesta. “That sounds like such a nice idea, Cissy.”

“And won’t tell anyone I let you do this, okay?”

“Never.”