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week was pretty chill. I did a little assigned reading, scrawled some homework, chatted with Vi, and answered an e-mail from Ryu, who’d gone to Sacramento for the break to see his grandparents. The time difference from East Coast to West was better than Boston to Tokyo, so we did a video chat too. At some point since I last saw him, he’d had the blond tips trimmed off, so he looked less J-Pop and more straight-edge handsome.
    â€œHow’s your friend?”
    â€œHanging in there.” Which was truer than he knew.
    The convo didn’t last long because it was getting late here, and I had the Feast of the Fools the next day. I still didn’t have a costume and I doubted going as a mad scientist like I had at Cameron’s party would cut it. After disconnecting with Ryu, I fiddled around online, looking for DIY ideas. I couldn’t decide if it would be better to go nondescript or to pick something monstrous. Maybe the immortals would think I was one of them?
    In the end, I decided on silent movie actress. A trip to the thrift store the next day hooked me up with a flapper dress, and I did my makeup so I looked pale and otherworldly, which also gave me an inhuman vibe. I used black on my lips and eyes, dark gray on the lids, then I put on a floppy velvet hat and draped a bunch of long beads around my neck. My shoes were plain flats because it made sense to be cautious when going into a situation like this.
    My dad was reading in the living room when I came out. “It’s a costume party?”
    â€œYeah.” I waited for him to ask something else.
    â€œMake sure you’re home before one.”
    That was much later than he’d have allowed before. But I told myself it was a special exception for New Year’s Eve. It doesn’t mean anything bad.
    Kian arrived just before nine. My nerves had escalated to mountainous proportions, as all the horrific possibilities raced through my head. I’d messaged Kian about my costume earlier, so he had on a black suit and tie with a white shirt. Quickly I did his face to match mine; people might take us for a couple of ghosts instead of what I had in mind, but that might even be better.
    â€œReady?” he asked.
    Not really.
    But my dad would think it was bizarre if I didn’t want to go to the party I’d requested permission to attend. So I nodded, we said bye, and headed for the Mustang. In the car Kian got his phone out, tapping GPS for a clue how to find the address. Leaning close, I saw it was outside the city. Worrisome . Chickening out wasn’t an option, though.
    Attendance is mandatory.
    Negotiating city traffic on New Year’s Eve took a while, so I was tense by the time we cleared Boston. The route map seemed to be taking us along the coast. We drove for nearly an hour when the GPS lady warned us we were getting close to our destination. Which turned out to be a creepy-as-hell pile of stones with jagged rocks and an angry ocean instead of a pretty beach. There weren’t many cars, something that shouldn’t have surprised me, because most of the guests wouldn’t require transportation. Most could terror-travel—through sewers or mirrors or electrical lines—and were probably already lurking inside.
    â€œAwesome,” I said aloud, gazing at the Gothic architecture.
    If some eccentric tycoon set out to build a terrifying house, he couldn’t have achieved his goal better. From the mullioned windows to the flying buttresses and gargoyles perched on the roof’s edge, the place radiated ominous. The lawn was overgrown, bordered by hedges so wild that they encroached on the view. Ivy ran amok on one side of the foundation, digging in its roots so the stones would crumble sooner or later. I breathed in, conscious of damp and salt and something else, sharp and wild, nothing I’d ever smelled.
    â€œThis is so his style,” Kian said.
    â€œThat’s not very reassuring.”
    With a