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Zusatztext "[The] heart-pounding follow-up to Fury ...the melding of myth and modern-day high school life works well... The Furies make pleasingly vicious villains; horror fans won’t want to miss this second in a planned trilogy. -- Kirkus Reviews Informationen zum Autor Elizabeth Miles lives in Portland, Maine, and writes for an alternative newsweekly. Visit her online at ElizabethMilesBooks.com , at Facebook.com/ElizabethMilesWrites , and follow her on Twitter at @MilesBooks. Klappentext Book Two in the Fury trilogy. High school junior Em researches Greek mythology in an effort to rid her Maine town of the returning! revenge-seeking Furies. Envy CHAPTER ONE “You say you wanna play around with other boys. You tell me that it’s over, but all I hear is WHITE NOISE!” Crow grabbed the microphone and leaned forward, and for a second Em was sure he was looking right at her. She leaned back into the beat-up armchair and wrapped her puffy down coat more tightly around her as she watched Crow practice his latest song, “White Noise.” The sound of crappy, hand-me-down instruments and boys who love to play them reverberated through the garage. For the past several weeks Em had been spending more time with Drea Feiffer and her friends; as a result she was getting used to the buzzing electrical feed from the amps, the heart-pounding drum rhythms, and the screaming guitar solos. In addition to loving coffee and obscure movies, Drea’s alternative crowd loved music, especially the kind they created themselves. Tonight they were at Colin Robertson’s rehearsal space in Portland—if you could call a rug on a concrete floor, some ratty old couches, and a secondhand drum set a “rehearsal space.” Colin’s name had long ago been shortened to C-Ro, and that nickname had soon morphed into Crow. Em had never heard him called anything else. Well, except for when she and Gabby and some of their friends had referred to him as the Grim Creeper, back before he left Ascension. Not graduated, just . . . stopped coming. He was the only high school dropout Em had ever known. Now Em knew he’d left to play music. Crow strummed his guitar, licking his lips in concentration before opening his mouth to sing a verse. His longish black hair (it used to be bleached blond; this was better) often fell into his gold-green eyes, which always seemed just the slightest bit squinted—like he was still waking up, or like he had just gotten high. Technically there were four guys in Crow’s band, the Slump: Crow, who sang lead vocals and played rhythm guitar; Jake, the drummer; Patrick, the bassist; and Mike, who played lead guitar. They couldn’t afford new instruments, but there was no question about their abilities. Other local musicians hung around the roomy old warehouse in South Portland, which Crow and the band rented for a cheap monthly rate. There was one guy who played the xylophone and another famous for his “found instruments”—a paintbrush on a metal tray, a wrench scraping against a birdcage. Em couldn’t believe this whole other world existed. And she really couldn’t believe how cool it all was. “Yo, Em, you want any of this?” From her perch on a ratty couch, Drea held up a Styrofoam cup of microwaved ramen noodles. Little-known fact that Em had learned recently: In Ascension, Maine, where Em and Drea lived, alternative types apparently subsisted on papery noodles in way-salty broth. She made a face and waved her hand. “No thanks. Not hungry.” The room was starting to warm up—it was freezing when Em and Drea had first arriv...
