Madam Sofia folded her hands on the table. “As I said, I don’t know precisely what Harley has agreed to, but she may be getting something out of it that we are not aware of. Nobody strikes this kind of bargain without a great need of her own.”
“What could possibly be worth kidnapping three girls?” Liv couldn’t believe it of Harley. She didn’t want to believe it. “Someone must be making her do it. How do I get her to stop?”
“She cannot stop on her own,” Madam Sofia said. “It is a curse now. There is only one way to break it.”
“Tell me how,” Liv insisted. “I’ll do it. It can’t go on.”
Madam Sofia nodded. “This is what you must do: You must take something dead from the other world and bring it to life in this one.”
Liv’s forehead wrinkled. “How am I supposed to do that? What do you even mean?”
“It is a riddle,” Madam Sofia said. “And it is a test. If you can decipher it, then you are the one who will break the curse. If you cannot decipher it...” She trailed off, raising one open hand as if she were letting something unseen fly away.
“Then the curse remains unbroken,” Liv whispered.
Madam Sofia leaned forward. “Tonight is your last opportunity to do this.”
“Why?”
“After tonight, you will have entered the other world three times. You will have sealed your own bargain, and you will not be able to break it.”
Liv remembered what Paige had told her, and she remembered that afternoon in the quad under the tree with Harley, saying “I agree” three times. She could practically feel the golden chains of that other world tightening around her.
“Tomorrow morning,” Madam Sofia continued, “if you have not broken the curse, you will be given your own talisman to mark your acquiescence to the curse.”
Liv remembered the girls’ jewelry—bracelets and necklaces and hair ornaments that all seemed to come from the same jeweler. Part of Liv still wanted to be one of them, but even as the idea of having her own otherworldly charm thrilled her, she was also repulsed by the fact that it would bind her to that place. “I’ll break it tonight,” Liv said. “Will Melissa and Andrea and Casey be able to return then?”
“I don’t know. They struck their own bargains when they stayed.”
“But they could return?”
“It depends on how deeply they’ve fallen for that other world, whether they have strong enough ties to this one. It’s possible, but it’s not up to you.”
Liv stood. “Okay.” And then she asked, “How do you know all this?”
Madam Sofia’s thin mouth turned up in a self-mocking smile. “I broke the curse myself, when I was your age. You girls are not the first to discover the allure of that other world, and you won’t be the last.”
* * *
The tunnel to the other world was the same that night, and the sign on the door in the alley said Magh Meall again. Liv wondered if they were truly entering that mythical world, or if whoever ran this nightclub thought of the name as a tongue-in-cheek joke. Inside, the club was as crowded as before, but tonight Liv could see that the dancers were not wearing costumes. What she had thought was clothing made of unusual materials was actually skin: skin covered in scales, skin erupting with downy feathers, skin rippling with spiny ridges the color of gold.
As the other girls disappeared into the cacophony of the club, Liv kept her eyes open, looking for anything that might solve Madam Sofia’s riddle. In the room with the crystal trees, there was a band playing on a stage Liv hadn’t noticed before. The lead singer was a woman with long white hair, her eyes outlined with the shapes of stars. Liv edged around the room, studying the crowd gathered at the bar. Most of the people were watching the show, but one of them, a man with tattoos of tiger stripes running up his wiry arms, had turned his back to the stage. He raised a cigarette to his mouth and plucked a matchbook from a glass bowl on the bar. The sight of someone smoking indoors startled Liv—they could do that here? she thought—and then she felt stupid. Of course they could. They could do anything here.
The tiger man tossed the matchbook back into the bowl after he had lit his cigarette, then vanished into the crowd on the dance floor. Liv crept into the gap he had left at the bar, taking the stool he had vacated. The glass bowl nearby held a whole bunch of matchbooks, and when she lifted one out, she saw that it was stamped with the words that had been on the flyer posted on the door: Magh Meall.
Liv didn’t have any pockets that night. She was wearing a tank top and leggings and boots, so she tucked the matchbook into her bra. It only took a second, but her heart began to accelerate the moment the matchbook’s sharp edges scraped against her skin. When she turned around, Harley was standing only a foot away from her, and Liv jerked in surprise.
Harley’s black hair was loose tonight, falling in thick waves over her shoulders. She looked suspicious. “What’re you doing?” she asked.
Liv thought fast. “Looking for you.” She slid off the stool and reached for Harley’s hand. Harley didn’t move; she only continued to scrutinize Liv’s face. “You want to dance?” Liv asked, and she pulled her toward the dance floor.
Liv hadn’t had anything to drink tonight—she had even avoided the vodka upstairs—but the music was intoxicating enough. There was something hypnotic about the woman’s voice, as if she gave Liv permission to do whatever she wanted, and there was something hypnotic about dancing with Harley, too. The movement of her muscles beneath the slippery fabric of her tank top; the warm flushed skin of Harley’s upper back; the tickle of Harley’s long black hair over her neck as Harley seemed to wind herself around Liv. After a while, it didn’t even feel like they were moving anymore. The dancers around them were moving; the bass from the band was shuddering; the lights above were flashing. But the two of them stood motionless, their bodies pressed together, and Liv closed her eyes so that she could feel Harley better, so that she could shut out the dream world all around them and make this real.
The voice in her ear seemed to come at her from a very great distance, the sound of it bubbling up from the depths of a dark sea, until she felt someone else’s hand—not Harley’s—on her shoulder, shaking her. “Liv! Liv! It’s time to go.”
She blinked her eyes open, and Harley peeled herself away, and beside them, Paige was shaking her head as if she had caught two children misbehaving.
“Come on,” Paige said. She glared at Harley. “You should know better.”
Harley’s cheeks were flushed and most of her lipstick had been rubbed off. She shook her head. “What time is it?”
“It’s time,” Paige said in a clipped voice.
Harley cursed. “Let’s go.”
Liv’s legs wobbled as she followed the girls out of the club. Harley didn’t even give her a second glance as she stalked through the crowd. Out in the alley, the night air was freezing on her skin. Still, Harley didn’t look back. She threw open the door to the stairs, and the other girls followed in drowsy silence. Only Paige gave Liv a meaningful glance as she pulled the door shut behind her, and then it was too dark to do anything but pay attention to where she was walking.
When they arrived back in Harley’s room, Liv headed for the exit with everyone else. She felt completely disoriented, and she could still taste Harley’s mouth. Harley had been drinking the wine.
“Liv,” Harley said. “Wait.”
Liv stopped. “What?”
When all the other girls had gone, Harley shut the door, and it was only the two of them. Harley turned to face her. Liv’s heart raced. This was the