As I slowly make my way through the empty school to the main entrance, the only person I see is the janitor, quietly mopping scuffs and dirt off the tile floor. Everyone else has vanished.

As I pass by, I turn to nod. Only I don’t see Harold, our kindly school janitor. Instead, I see a giant spider, rubbing the mop back and forth across the tile.

It takes the last little bits of my control to not freak out completely and run screaming from the building. What, did the spider eat Harold and take over his job, so no one will know? Harold’s been at Immaculate Heart for decades. Everyone loves him. He’s an integral part of the school. How dare that . . . thing eat Harold.

I will not just stand by and let the spider monster get away with this tragedy. I’m not certain what I can do, but I have to do something.

“Good night, Miss Greer,” the spider says as I start marching in its direction. “You be careful of that wet tile there.”

I jerk back.

Harold? The spider is Harold? Harold is the spider? What—? How—? I don’t think my brain can handle this information. Insanity overload.

I mumble a quick good-bye and burst out into the open air.

What is happening to my carefully constructed world? A week ago, everything was perfect. Simple. Understandable. I was simply Greer Morgenthal, daughter of Elliot and Helen Morgenthal, most popular girl in the junior class, if not the entire school, and girlfriend of the most popular boy at St. Stephen. Future CEO, Junior Leaguer, and—if my plans work out right—first female president. Now, suddenly, I’m adopted, I have triplet sisters, and I see mythological monsters around every single corner!

I think my brain is imploding.

Without thinking about where I’m going, I walk right past the bus stop and head toward Fillmore, to the one place that always makes me feel in control of my world.

Before I know it, I’m pushing open the door and a tiny bell is tinkling to announce my presence. I collapse into one of the four hot-pink armchairs in the center of the space. As my satchel hits the floor, Kelly Anne emerges from the back room, a beaming smile on her face.

“Greer,” she squeals with delight. “Darling, it’s been weeks.”

“I know,” I reply, welcoming her hug as she leans down to give me a quick squeeze. “I’ve been busy.”

She laughs. “I was beginning to think you joined Shoe-aholics Anonymous.”

“Never.” I smile, a real and true smile.

At least some things remain the same.

“What can I show you today?” she asks, swinging her arm in a broad gesture at the walls of shoes lining either side of the shop.

“I need a new strappy date shoe,” I explain. “One of my silver Jimmy Choos—” Well, I can’t exactly tell her it got lost in the Bay when a giant serpent creature tried to drown me. Not unless I want a one-way ticket to the psychiatric ward. “It’s beyond repair.”

Kelly Anne gasps. Shoes are her life, and telling her that one is damaged is like telling someone you ran over their dog. Only with more tears.

Before she starts crying, I say, “I’m feeling colorful today.”

She nods, swallowing her grief. “I have just the thing.”

She slips into the back and I sink against the chair. With my eyes closed and new shoes on the way, I almost feel back to normal. What I need to do is will the monsters away. I’m a strong believer in mind over matter. Surely, if I focus my willpower on the issue, I can make the monsters disappear back into my subconscious.

I kick off my Ralph Lauren espadrilles, wiggling my toes against the plush white rug, and harness my mental powers. Fall will begin officially in a few days and I’ll have to put my warm-weather wardrobe away. But for now, I’m holding on to the last bit of summer. And my last bit of sanity.

Soon, schoolwork and extracurriculars and other responsibilities will overwhelm me on a daily basis. I’ll have limited time for shoe shopping, let alone more important things. Like Kyle.

The other night, when I bailed on him, he bought the phoned-in “I got marinara sauce on my top” excuse and was totally understanding. Or uncaring, I can never really tell with Kyle. Still, he was a good sport. Now I owe him.

Pulling out my cell, I call Kyle’s number. He answers on the fourth ring.

“Babe,” he says with an exaggerated drawl. “What’s up?”

I cringe, then release the tension. I don’t need to allow any more stress right now. “Hello, Kyle,” I say politely. “Would you like to come over tonight?”

“Abso-righteous-lutely.” He laughs at his made up slang. “What time?”

I ignore his display of idiocy.

“I’m doing a little shoe shopping right now, but I’ll be home soon,” I answer. “Come over anytime.”

“Right on.”

I’m about to hang up, to sink into the bliss of shoe shopping and pretend surfer-boy isn’t in prime form tonight.

“Greer,” he says, dropping the overwrought-dude act. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I answer, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the chair. “It’s been a stressful few days.”

Saying that makes a little of the tension ease from my neck. Nothing can make it go away altogether, but every tiny bit helps.

“I’ll bring my magic hands,” Kyle says. “That stress will be history by the time I leave.”

I grin. A massage would be—

“If I leave,” he adds, with a suggestive undertone.

Did he have to ruin the moment? Well, I won’t let him. I need him tonight. And maybe . . . Maybe . . .

“Kyle, honey,” I say, in my sweetest tone. “Bring some strawberries.”

I hang up before he says something that changes my mind. After all the ridiculous things that have happened in the last few days, taking the next, not-quite-all-the-way-but-pretty-close step in our relationship might be precisely the memory eraser I need.

“Here we go,” Kelly Anne says, emerging through the curtain with a trio of shoe boxes in her hands.

She sets two of them down, opens the third, and pulls out all the stuffing to reveal a high-heeled strappy sandal in a brilliant shade of dark lime green.

“It’s beautiful.” I take the shoe and run my fingertips over the satin straps.

“Try it on,” she instructs. “It feels divine.”

She holds out her own foot to show me that she’s wearing the same shoe in bright purple.

The bell above the door tinkles. Kelly Anne goes to greet the new customer as I unbuckle the ankle strap and slide my foot into the shoe. She’s right, it does feel divine. I quickly step into the other one.

“Let me go grab that for you,” Kelly Anne tells the new customer. She rushes by me, asking, “Don’t you love them?” as she goes.

“They’re gorgeous,” the new customer comments, with a weird click in her voice. “Are they comfortable?”

I glance up, ready to say, “Yes, quite.” But I freeze when, instead of a fellow shoe-shopping woman, I see a woman’s body with the head of raven.

She twists her feathered head to the side, studying me.

There is not a bird-woman in the shop, I tell myself. There is not a—

“Here you go,” Kelly Anne says, bringing a pair of boxes to the woman who—no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise—has the head of a big black bird. Her inky black feathers gleam yellow in the fluorescent light.

I can’t take it anymore.

Standing, I grab my satchel and head for the door.

“Is something wrong, Greer?” Kelly Anne asks, rightfully concerned about her favorite client—me—walking out of the shop.

“No,” I squeak. “Fine. I love these. Put them on my tab.”

“No problem.”

I push open the door, desperate to get away.

“Greer, wait!”

I ignore whatever Kelly Anne is trying to say. She has more important things to worry about, like finding the perfect shoes for the bird-woman. Probably something in a black patent pump.

Sweet mercy, not even Kelly Anne’s boutique is safe anymore.

As I hurry down the sidewalk, I hear her call out, “You forgot your espadrilles.”

A small price to pay to escape the presence of yet another monster. Why? Why is this happening to me? I’ve been a good girl, for the most part, all my life. I try to meet and exceed everyone’s expectations. I don’t lie unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m loyal to my friends, I get stellar grades, I make my bed every day. I don’t drink, do drugs, sneak out, or break any laws. What did I do to deserve this kind of fate? I’m going insane as I’m surrounded by ever-increasing numbers of freaky monsters.

Seriously, a woman with a raven’s head?

I jerk to a stop in the middle of a crosswalk. There is only one person—well, two people, actually—who can answer my questions. Who can tell me why this is happening and how to make it stop. Because it has to stop. The same two people whose presence in my life seems to have been the harbinger of my descent into madness.

My—I swallow tightly—sisters.

A blaring horn bursts my thoughts and reminds me I’m standing in the middle of the street. But now I know where I need to go. Only I don’t know where to go. It’s not like I collected business cards when they showed up on my doorstep. Or when Grace and I were fighting the crazy sea snake.

I don’t even have a phone number for them.

Something in my gut compels me to head downhill to the marina. It’s such a strong feeling, I don’t stop to think. I jog across the street—Kelly Anne was right about these heels, they are ultracomfortable—just in time to catch the bus. Seven minutes later I jump off at Marina Boulevard.