

Hidden

By M. Lathan

Copyright 2013 M. Lathan

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

More titles by M. Lathan

Lost - Hidden Series Book Two

Shattered - Hidden Series Book Three

Dedication

To Aaron, for everything imaginable.

# Prologue

I understood why she wanted to kill me. I didn't belong here in the first place. The world would be better off without me in it. I closed my eyes, torn between wanting to escape and wanting it to be over. I should have been more prepared. I'd known for years what face I'd see in my final moments, but no power of mine could have predicted what would lead me here.

# Chapter One

Only once have I wanted to make a friend. I was seven, and he was a cat. This old, gangly thing the other orphans called Mr. Crusty. I would watch him hobble around, no feline grace left in his bones, wanting to play with and talk to the other pest at St. Catalina. Like I knew his pain and he knew mine.

Birds swarmed his carcass the day he died, before I ever worked up the courage to approach him. We found him out in the courtyard, getting pecked at, his pain and death meaningless to the hungry birds and everyone watching.

I still had a lot in common with Mr. Crusty. Especially now as Sienna and her flock circled me. They'd jumped at the chance to torture me as soon as Sister Margret left class for a bathroom break.

Sienna snatched last week's Chemistry test from my desk. I hadn't turned it over. I knew it was a D minus.

She cackled and passed it around.

"Leah, you would think someone who spends most of her time alone would have better grades," she said. Her birds laughed on cue. "What do you do all day? Obviously not study." She gasped slowly like she'd gotten a revelation in that blonde head of hers. "You fantasize about us, don't you? You probably sleep in Whit's old bed to feel close to her."

Laughter spread around the room like an airborne disease. Disease. I shivered. That was an intriguing thought; I could almost hear the sound their bodies would make against the floor when it hit.

"Leah, come on. Say something. Scream at me, it's been a while. At least cry," Sienna said, laughing and leaning into my desk, closer to danger.

I didn't cry. I never cry. And if I were going to, it wouldn't be because of Sienna. I had bigger problems. I'd just broken a promise I'd made to God to not think about hurting His people, His children. And today was not the day to piss Him off.

My old roommate, Whitney Nguyen, graciously returned my test as she cackled with the rest of the birds. She liked the idea of me pining over her, but she knew I didn't spend my free time thinking about her or sleeping in her old bed. After fourteen years of hard labor as my roommate, she'd given up on being friends or me being remotely normal. The current theory to explain my oddness was that I was in love with all of the girls and consumed by lust.

As long as they didn't know it was magic.

I'd always known it was real. Everyone did. And I knew, along with the rest of the world, that it was evil, satanic, and had coursed through the veins of the creatures that tried and failed to take over the world.

I was afraid of them until four years ago, when I got disgusting magical powers and changed from a shy twelve-year-old into one of the monsters from everyone's nightmares. That was shocking considering all of the creatures were executed after the botched apocalypse. I discovered that the government missed one on a Tuesday afternoon when I wished I could skip the walk to my dorm. When I opened my eyes, I was there, in my room, seconds after standing in an empty classroom.

I stuffed my test in my bag, bracing for the rest of their stunt. Even with my head down and eyes closed, I knew Sienna had taken a mask they'd spent hours decorating out of her bag. And I knew Whitney had covered her mouth while she giggled in anticipation.

She'd wanted to be Sienna's friend since Sienna was the blonde toddler named Esther. Before the nuns learned our real names, we all answered to the one they'd given us from the bible. It took them a few years to identify the orphans who had been left to them after the world nearly ended. They thought Sienna was charming and our little leader, our queen. I struck them as weary. Whitney's name used to be Abigail. I'd had to listen to the passage she used as evidence of being a king's wife countless times, just like her idol and future best friend Esther.

Eventually, most of the girls put aside their bible names and went with what their records showed. I'd been Leah for eight years already, so I didn't ask to be called Christine Grant. It didn't matter to me then, but after the powers came, it felt like blasphemy to have a name with Christ in it.

Sienna cleared her throat, getting on with the prank, and I kept my head down. I'd seen this moment as I stepped out of the shower last night during one of my annoying and useless visions of the future. I couldn't avoid much of what I predicted. I'd promised God I wouldn't use magic.

"So, Friz," Whitney said, referring to my hair—which was curly, not frizzy, by the way. Hers was a slick black, almost blue, that she'd chopped to her chin after moving out. Her reasons: she couldn't stand the silence anymore, she wanted real friends, and a dozen other complaints I'd tuned out during her rant. Then she stormed out—a few times to get all of her things—and climbed to the top of the social ladder overnight, propelled by what the rumor mill turned into an epic fight that ended in me groveling on my knees for her to stay.

I didn't even get out of bed, didn't say a word, didn't even look at her while she packed.

Whitney tapped her purple nails against my desk. I still didn't look up.

"I know you never go to dances, or anything really, but we figured out a way to help you so you won't miss out tonight. Just put this on and we won't know that it's you feeling us up in the dark. Plus, you can hide your creepy trance face when you numb out. We put glitter on it and everything."

They cackled as the mask swiped the side of my face and landed on my desk. I exhaled slowly, silently, and brushed the mask to the floor. I developed a sudden interest in my textbook, and they finally flapped away from my desk.

This was their idea of fun, but my heart was black and I didn't have a soul, so my idea of revenge wasn't as funny. It would involve the creepy trance face she hated so much.

"Back to your seats. Settle down," Sister Margret said, slamming the door behind her. "Act like civilized humans." They didn't settle down. Sienna and her flock were still in hysterics about their prank. The others were sitting on desks, tinkering with cell phones. I was seated quietly, pretending to be a civilized human. "Settle down, or you'll lose mingling privileges for a week," Sister Margret said. They rushed to their seats then.

God forbid their precious, unsupervised time with the boys from St. Mathew, the male orphanage next door, be revoked. The nuns used that threat for everything. It worked on them every time because they were human and had nothing else to worry about.

"It's time for lab," she said in the now quiet room. "Get in your groups. Stay on task in there." I didn't have a group, but I packed my bag and prepared to tuck myself in an empty corner of the lab. "Uh... Leah." Her voice was low and flat like she suspected something had happened to me in her absence. I went to her desk as the other girls pushed through the door. She continued in a whisper. "I think you should retake your test while they're in the lab. Your C minus won't survive that grade."

"Thanks," I said, even though I didn't feel grateful for her pity. Pleasant emotions required a soul, and things like me weren't made with them.

She gave me a blank test, and I went back to my desk. I'd do much better now that there was a wall and a closed glass door between twenty-two other minds my magic allowed me to hear.

If I wanted to, I could spy on them, know their secret desires and shames, but I'd also promised God that I would ignore their thoughts. The indistinct jumble of words distracted me all day, especially during class. Homework and projects kept my GPA afloat at a 2.4. If I had a soul and could feel humor, I would have laughed when Sister Margret told me I had test-taking issues.

She had no idea how accurate that was.

My life would be much easier if my kind had stayed in hiding like they had been for ages. But no. That idiot wizard Fredrick Dreco had to go and ruin everything when he decided to take over the world. Now we were extinct... kind of.

I finished the test in ten minutes. I knew how to balance equations when I wasn't ignoring the clatter. I slid the test on her desk, and she checked over it while I stood there.

"B," she said. "Do this the first time next Friday. I can't let you retake anything else this term. Understood?"

I nodded and headed to my desk. My clogs squeaked against the floor twice on the way there, the soles still damp from the rain.

I slid into my desk and pulled out my notebook to scribble. Sister Margaret didn't mention the lab, so neither did I. I'd take an F if it meant staying out of Sienna's way. Or really, letting her stay out of mine.

A sudden storm had descended over New Haven while I ate outside alone, so I hadn't gotten to the best part of my lunch. I pulled my orange out of my bag and stabbed it with my nail. This was the only thing my soulless body could feel outside of pain and anger—momentary peace for the time the scent would linger in the air. I didn't know why, but for a few moments, it would soothe me. I'd be calm, unafraid, like no other second of the day.

It was one of the most pathetic things about me—the unpopular weirdo, fruit sniffer, and witch.

"Leah," Sister Margret said, like she'd called me more than once. I hadn't heard her.

"Yes, Sister?"

"I asked if you thought it was stuffy in here." I nodded. It wasn't stuffy, but I didn't want to disagree. It took more words to disagree, I'd found, and I tried to speak as little as possible.

Her dress swept the floor on her way to the window. I braced for the February chill, begging my magic not to rear its hideous head. My most frightening power, commanding fire to do whatever awful thing I wanted, could flare unexpectedly, especially when I was cold.

How ironic. Fire was the most effective method used during the vanquishing of my kind, according to my history books. I guessed I was the only one with that particularly devilish power... or else they'd be alive, too.

"I'm always afraid when the sky looks like this," she said. She cracked the window and reached her wrinkled hand out into the storm. "It reminds me of the war when the days were as dark as the nights. It still haunts me, the way they tormented us, even though they're all burning in Hell right now."

She slammed the window, and I shook in my seat. She didn't notice, too busy mumbling at her desk about the brother she lost during the war—a story she'd told enough times I could recite it from memory.

I was sorry about her brother. I was sorry things like me were vicious and had terrorized humans for years. I was even more sorry that she wasn't safe in her own classroom right now. I wasn't in hell like the rest of my people, and there were so many ways I could kill her. I could move anything without touching it—her body out of that window, her bones under her skin. Or I could just speak it. I'd never been bold enough to try a spell, but I knew it would work. She needed to pray more than she knew. But I didn't want to be a monster, so I prayed, too, even though I knew I wasn't supposed to.

According to my file, my parents were bankers with a normal life. I must've gotten lumped in with the wrong type of babies when I survived the fire that killed them. I didn't belong here, praying to their God, living at one of their schools. But for now, I just had to be quiet and keep the magic hidden. As long as I was invisible, I would continue to escape a death that should have happened sixteen years ago.

But my odds of living were bleaker today. It was the last Friday of the month, and I'd pushed it by thinking of killing four times already, on the very day I had to go sit in God's house with my unclean blood for mandatory Mass. One of these days, I may burst into flames when I take communion. Then Lydia Shaw, who was credited for ridding the world of magic, would find out she'd missed one. Then... that would be the end of Leah and/or Christine.

It didn't make sense to me how humans were able to defeat my kind. I felt strong enough to take out everyone in this school. But they did, so they'd do it once more if I blew my cover.

The bell startled me, like most harmless sounds did, and I rushed out of class before they could come out of the lab.

The last two hours before Mass would be easier. It was also Club Day. Girls like Sienna and Whitney would be headed to Ballet and Art. I went to the basement for Robotics. It had the fewest names on the sign-up sheet, so I went for it.

The five girls who made up the St. Catalina Robotics Team, who called themselves the Robo-Girls, were considered nerds, but even they didn't talk to me.

They worked on their huge robot for a national competition while I tried to get the wheels to work on my two-foot thing that didn't deserve to be called one. These girls were actually smart. I was just here to disappear for a while, so I stayed out of the way. That worked for everyone here. Sister Sheila got to read her Bible while everyone worked in harmony, the Robo-Girls didn't have to include me and risk falling even lower on the social ladder, and I got to struggle in the back... alone.

Two hours of almost silence was what I needed before Mass. The Robo-Girls didn't drag the evil out of me like the others.

I kept my eyes on my feet as I walked through the church doors. I thought it was better to look away, less disrespectful.

The right side of the church was reserved for the boys from St. Matthew. I'd never spoken to any of them. They wouldn't know me as Leah or Christine. They'd probably identify me as the quiet creep or possibly the lesbian who was in love with Sienna and Whitney.

I sat in my usual seat on the last row on the girls' side. I bowed my head to pray. I pleaded with God, his entire holy family, and everyone else in heaven for the evil inside of me to not repel communion, turn crosses upside down, or whatever else was supposed to happen.

"Hi there, friend," Sienna said and giggled, like Mass wasn't hard enough without her bothering me. I toyed with the edges of my skirt so I'd look too busy to hear whatever she had to say. I knew better than to wish I were somewhere else. I'd be there in a second. "You wanna come sit by us?" she asked.

I picked at my overgrown cuticles as she and Whitney fell into a bigger laugh. I knew what was so funny— – the time that had actually worked.

Whitney had only been gone a week. I was eating in the cafeteria at my newly empty table. Then she walked over, Sienna Martin: the Queen of the Universe, and said, "I hate how things ended with you and Whit. Come sit with us." She smiled, and I picked up my tray and followed her like an idiot. When we made it to the famed table, she spun around with a different face than she had before and said, "Leah, stop following me. You are so obsessed with us. Let it go. She doesn't want to be your friend anymore."

Thoroughly horrified and embarrassed, I ran out of there, lunch tray in hand, and caused an even bigger scene. They periodically bring up that hilarious moment and others where I'd lost it, screamed, or bolted out of the room. There were several where they'd startled me on purpose and I had spilled something all over my clothes before I banished myself from the cafeteria.

"Oh, Leah," she said, not quite done, apparently. "I heard something disturbing about you. Candice told Whitney that Hannah told her that you... came on to her in the locker room today."

I sighed. These accusations were getting more ridiculous as the years wore on. I didn't even take gym this year. I'd opted for an extra science. Physics offered more homework and less free time.

"Spaz, I'm shocked," Whitney said. "I thought you were in love with us. This is no way to show it."

I stared at the crucifix until they lost interest in my reaction. They strutted down the aisle like it was a runway, and Sienna blew a kiss to her boyfriend. I rolled my eyes. My witch powers, or the devil himself, made me sure that he was sleeping with Tiffany—one of Sienna's loudest birds.

There was nothing worse than knowing something that could hurt her and not using it. But I'd kept it to myself, hoping it would show God that I didn't want to be evil.

Maybe it was working. I didn't vomit when I took communion, nor did I spontaneously combust.

"The Mass has ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

"Thanks be to God," we all said together, and I raced through the church doors.

My dorm was the biggest of the four. The current junior class, my class, made up most of the population at St. Catalina—the kids orphaned in the darkest year of the war. We took up the entire building and had since we were infants. The common room had grown up with us. It used to be the open space where we were coached to walk and talk. Then it turned into a playroom. I pulled on the double doors and entered its current incarnation. Pink and purple lanterns hung from the ceiling over plush sofas and beanbag chairs, facing different flat screens around the room.

Sienna had been in charge of this remodel. Even if she hadn't claimed this room as the court where her subjects come to worship her, I still would've banished myself from it. Sitting around with humans outside of class was the last thing I wanted to do.

I planned my weekends according to one goal: be invisible. I'd incurred a sacrificial tardy in first period so I could set my laundry to dry while the girls were gone and my delicates were safe from pranks. I knew I'd get here first after Mass, it was mingling time, and had left my laundry basket waiting by the dryer. I passed through the kitchen that permanently smelled of chocolate chip cookies and grabbed the plastic bag I'd packed and left in the front of the fridge to make for a quick exit.

Groceries for the weekend, check. I dropped the bag in my basket and piled the clothes on top. Laundry, check. A television blared in the common room just as the staircase door slammed behind me. Leah out of sight until Monday morning, check.

I knew my door would be unlocked today. Sister Phyllis, the guardian of our dorm, had inspected rooms while we were in class. I still reached for my key; the inspection hadn't been announced.

Even with my bedroom door closed and locked behind me, my act had to continue. I dropped the laundry basket and took two steps to my desk to deposit my bag. Then three to the closet to drop off my shoes. Then six more to my bed. I'd memorized my careful dance, a performance I suspected hadn't gone unnoticed over the years. Even now, it felt like I was being watched. I shrugged my blazer off and confirmed my suspicion. It usually happened late at night, but the hairs on my forearm were standing at attention. They'd been that way for the past few days, almost constantly, making me completely sure that eyes were on me. It felt like they wanted to see me be normal, human, and I wanted to show them just that.

I reached for the remote slowly so it wouldn't fly into my hand. I had a movie all cued up for my performance. I'd taken it from the movie library this morning. I figured no one would come knocking on my door for the dusty VHS copy of The Little Rascals.

I crashed on my bed, exhausted, and faced the little TV once used for princess movies with Whitney. I could have upgraded using money from my student account—money my parents left behind. But I rarely watched TV, and I had bigger problems than the size of my screen, like having my head mounted on Lydia Shaw's wall.

I ate my typical meal—a turkey sandwich—for dinner. I made my orange last the entire movie to savor the scent.

After Uh-Huh learned a new word, I went into the bathroom for my shower. The hairs on my arms relaxed as I stepped through the door; it was the only place I didn't feel watched.

The shower sprang to life just before I touched the knob. "I'm sorry," I said to God. "I didn't mean to do that." I waited as the hot water beat down on me to see if that slip would make this night my last.

I checked the hairs on my arm. Still down. Still alive for now.

A far second to oranges, the song I sang in the shower every night had a way of soothing me. More than anything, it made me tired enough to fall asleep. With Whitney gone, I didn't have to whisper it.

The stars are out,

It's time for bed.

Now close your eyes,

And rest your head.

May angels shield you with their wings,

As you dream your little angel dreams.

I didn't recall composing that song, but apparently, I used to think I was good and perfect like the angels. I knew better now.

I stepped out of the shower and tugged a brush through my unruly brown tangles. I stared into the mirror over the sink as I started the song again. My skin screamed winter. I should be a warmer tan; I looked less creepy in the summer. Maybe that was why the girls had been digging into me so hard. I looked rather witchy. The unease that made them mock me was probably their souls warning them, urging them to notice I was different and dangerous.

At my worst, it feels like the fire that could easily shoot from my palm is raging inside of me. My heart picks up, more than when I'm scared. It pounds, I can't hear. My blood dances, taunting me, begging me to hurt whoever's hurt me. And I know that I can. I feel that I can.

But I don't. I breathe and pray and let the magic cool. I didn't want to be this way—consumed by rage and thoughts of death. I'd much rather be normal and not feel so distant from everyone around me. It would be nice to join the art club and not have to worry about what I'd do to the catty girls there. Before the powers, I'd thought that was where my life was headed—being the quiet girl with the natural artistic abilities. The nuns had thought drawing and painting would bring me out of my shell, make me finally want to talk to someone, connect with someone, change how I'd been since I was an infant.

I was, in their words, impossible to soothe until one day I stopped crying and making any noise all together. Like I'd tired myself out, and I never recovered. I guessed I couldn't because of what I was—the only soulless creature alive.

Art couldn't help that, so now, I didn't draw for the fun of it. It was how I filled the hours before sleep when the hairs were excited on my arm. I drew for whoever was watching. I flipped through the pages of my notebook, past the gray depictions of my more ethical obsessions—oranges, the view of the forest from my window, and the birds that live there.

I filled an entire page with them, some flying, some pecking at the blue lines and the spirals of the notebook, waiting for the hairs to fall. Sleep overtook me before they did.

# Chapter Two

The birds met me in my dream. I stretched out on the grass in the courtyard in my pajamas, and they flocked around me. One, the smallest one, hopped onto my leg then up to my stomach. It chirped, a happy greeting, and took off into the air. The others followed. So did I.

The girls looked like ants from where we were. Insignificant nothings.

I didn't have to flail my arms. I glided through the air with them, the smell of coming rain filling my nose. We flew over St. Matthew and sped down to the forest that separated the schools from town.

I extended my feet when I was close to the ground. The flock peeped and hopped on the forest floor with me – over roots and under branches, avoiding sharp edges that would spill my dirty blood. They led me to a cabin overgrown with vines and flowers. The birds flew to the roof, settling at the point over the door. They were telling me to go inside.

The door opened in front of me. I wasn't afraid. My body finally wasn't shaking like I was waiting to take my last breath.

Inside, the floorboards creaked as I stepped softly through the house. Not a haunting sound, more like it was coming alive to welcome me. A single chair sat in the middle of the living room in front of a fireplace. It rocked back and forth when I nudged it. There was a table in the kitchen with one chair tucked under it. It was set for one.

I followed the creaking wood to the back of the cabin to the only other room. There was a bed in the corner. The comforter was soft and girly, covered in pink flowers.

"This cabin is built for one?" My question echoed in the silent house. The birds sang together. An answer, I guessed. "Is it mine?" They chirped yes, again. "I don't have to go back?"

They fluttered away. I saw them take the sky from the window over the bed.

Someone tapped lightly on the front door. Then harder as I made it to the hall. The impatient visitor banged again, rattling the door and startling me awake in my dorm room.

I heard the knocking I'd heard in the dream. Someone was really at my door.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice raspy from sleep.

"Morning, Spaz... I mean Leah," Sienna said. Whitney snickered loud enough for me to know she'd tagged along on this prank my magic hadn't warned me of. "We heard some of the sisters talking at the dance last night." She giggled again. "I think you'd like to know what they said about you. Let us in, friend." I rolled my eyes. As if I were stupid enough to let her in this room. By Monday, the rumor would be that I begged her to come inside and tried to kiss her or something. More feet shuffled outside of the door. She had a little audience out there. "I'll tell you from here then. Since I'm such a great friend, I think you should know that they have you on suicide watch."

Her birds snickered. Oh, yes, because suicide is so damn funny. Maybe that was why I'd felt the eyes on me so much lately. Maybe I'd been under surveillance by cameras I couldn't see, cameras meant to stop me from hurting myself.

"It's true, Leah," Whitney said. "I heard them, too."

"They think you're at risk," Sienna said. "I'd agree. Actually, I thought you would've offed yourself years ago. Especially when Whitney traded up and told us exactly how strange you really are." I took several deep breaths and tucked my hateful hands under my legs. "So... in light of this," Sienna continued in a professional tone. "We have compiled a list of requests in the event that you hang yourself in that room one day."

Incessant, idiotic giggles seeped under my door. I tucked my head under the covers, fuming. The bed shook with me. I wanted to invite them in politely and let the fire in my chest have its way for once.

What could I say? Come in, girls. I've been meaning to tell you guys that I don't care about Whitney. I don't care about anything, actually... except detaching your skinny legs from your body and turning your bouncy hair to ash on my floor.

Words of a killer, of a witch. One that would be dead before dinner if she didn't control herself. I drew in a ragged breath and went with silence instead.

"Number one," Whitney said. "Can it please be a school day so we can get out of class? Number two. Can you leave a note where we'd see it so your body won't stink up the place?"

They were waiting for me to scream at them so they could laugh at me. I heard it in the thoughts I couldn't ignore. Sienna had promised them she'd spice up their boring morning.

"Number three," Sienna said, taking over again. "Can you please be wearing the friendship bracelet you made Whit?"

They laughed, and I refused the thickness in my throat warning me of tears, the closest I'd come to them in years. There was no friendship bracelet. I'd thrown the fake one in the trash; the one they'd told everyone I'd spent hours on.

That day, Sienna waited until it was quiet in the cafeteria after she called for everyone's attention. She threw the bracelet on my table and told me my attempts to get Whitney back were both hilarious and futile. I ran out of the cafeteria and all the way to the bathroom. That was the first time my foul spirit urged me to kill. I had their deaths planned to perfection in under a minute, like they'd awakened a demon that had been asleep for fourteen years.

And that demon was alive and well and pounding against my chest to be free. I prayed for them. Even if God couldn't care about me, he would care enough about them to get them away from my door before I snapped.

"Alright, let's go. Our show is about to come on," Sienna said. I guessed He was listening. They giggled and shuffled away from my door.

I could see why they thought I'd kill myself. To say I worry about my death constantly, I didn't have much of a life. If I died right now, nothing would change about the world. No one would cry. They'd only care if my body made the dorm smell. But the thought of not existing burned worse than their words. And it hurt to let them get away with it today, more than it ever had. I hoped my self-control wasn't waning.

I changed from one pajama set to another after my shower and crawled back in bed. I hadn't moved much since Sienna gave up on her prank. I nibbled on a sandwich for dinner as I plotted my escape after graduation. College was out. All of the brochures showcased dorms and classrooms, and I'd had my fill of those. My plan was to find my way to Florida, where oranges grow. I could sleep in a field of them. Live there, hide there, die there in my own time.

"I'll be invisible in Florida," I said, pulling the covers over my head. I pretended my pillow was the angel's wing I sang about. My eyes fluttered. Then the fire alarm blared.

I shot up in bed, rattled, more worried that I'd done something to set it off. A single thought about being cold on the wrong day could've done it. I checked the room. No smoke. No fire.

I threw my coat over my pajamas, stuffed my feet in my clogs, and ran out of the room.

We waited in the courtyard for Sister Phyllis to creep out of the building. Most of the nuns were old, but she wasn't. Her limp was from an injury from the dark days. Something like me hurt her, but she survived.

"Nothing to worry about, girls," she yelled over the horns. "A little steam—" The alarm shut off. "A little steam from someone's shower," she continued, softer. "Procedure dictates a roll call, so don't leave until you respond to your name."

When Sister Phyllis called my name, I raised my hand so I didn't have to speak.

I had two plausible exit options: wade through the crowd or cross Sienna and her flock by going on the outside of the group. The third option, go straight to my room from where I stood, would have Lydia Shaw here in no time. I chose option two. Crossing in front of five girls had to be better than shuffling through fifty.

They stood in front of one of the hairy trees behind the crowd. Wet grass and mud slushed under my feet as I approached them.

"Boo!" Sienna yelled, well aware of how easily I startled.

My hand flew to my chest, and my foot caught on a root, sending me barreling to the muddy ground. I waited for the laughter, prayed for it, so I'd know something odd hadn't happened like one of the hairy branches falling on their heads. Sienna cackled first, then the rest of the crowd. Thank God.

I stood, covered in mud, my right knee stinging, and gasped when I saw my leg. Blood seeped through my pajama pants, right through the rip the raised root made. Not just blood. Magical blood. Blood, that under fire, according to legend, would cast a different color than the typical orange. Back when the world was crawling with us, it was how to tell if a creature was lying about being human. One drop of their blood over a flame. Since witch was the most plausible explanation of my powers, my blood would send purple smoke into the air. One flick of a match and my life was over.

It was far fetched. I knew that. Who here would think to test the Spaz's blood? But I couldn't stop the panic in my chest. Or it from rumbling in my stomach. Or it from raising turkey and oranges to my throat. I ran with one hand covering my knee, the other over my mouth. Fast. Spastic.

"Seriously, she makes this too easy," Sienna shouted, loud enough that I heard her over the laughter.

My stomach twisted again, and I jetted through the doors just in time to make it to the bathroom on the first floor. Then it came up. The puke and the tears. And the blood from my knee smeared on the tile beneath me.

I cleared the floor of my curse, the evil that would cause my death if anyone ever held a flame to it. I tore a line of tissue from the roll and dried my face, furious with myself for crying. I would never live this moment down. Sienna and Whitney and all those who seek to impress them would keep this memory alive for the rest of our time here.

Death. That was what being here was. Why did I fear Lydia Shaw catching me if I was already dead? Why did I care so much about living? I leaned my head against the toilet, rocking myself, trying to erase the notion of not existing. Thoughts like that, hopeless, dark thoughts directed at myself, felt like drinking acid. A burning, bitter feeling that I couldn't hang on to for long.

Sister Phyllis knocked on the open door of the stall. "Leah, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, Sister." She took my word for it and left me alone like every authority figure here did. I guessed as long as I was okay, they didn't have to do anything about how I was treated here. And I was treated no better than the vomit swirling around the flushing toilet.

And I supposed I deserved that. But they didn't know why. They didn't have a reason. They saw some helpless, quiet girl. Someone who would never speak up, even when they encouraged her to kill herself. Innocent. Defenseless.

But I wasn't. Nothing in me was good. Our library had pictures of things like me with horns protruding from their heads. That's what I was, and every part of me wanted to own it and punish them now. Burned to.

I shuddered as that thought possessed me, enraged me. My heart crashed in my chest. I couldn't hear the toilet anymore, and the bathroom walls blurred. I was no longer in control. God couldn't help me now. Or them.

I opened my hand and allowed the fire to form there, hovering over my palm, not burning me at all. Their skin wouldn't be so lucky. I made it shrink in my hand, hiding it until the right moment. That way they wouldn't have time to run.

I stalked into the hall, knowing that with my distraction and her limp, Sister Phyllis hadn't made it to the M names. Sienna Martin would still be out there. So would Whitney Nguyen.

The part of me that wanted to be good, that had fought and strained for years against this rage, stalled my feet at the door for a moment. Long enough to notice the hairs standing on my arm. Then I saw her, laughing and enjoying a soul she didn't deserve. I couldn't hear the sound, that shrill cackle that had nagged my ears for years, but I did hear the growl rip from my throat.

I moved closer, covered in mud, but as my true self finally. I didn't want to bother trying a spell. I wanted to see my will move her bones. I wanted to feel the heat of the flames coming off her body. She'd burn. She'd feel like me. Tortured and dead.

My feet were steady now, sure that I was ready to misbehave. I lurked closer, and a bright light flashed in the stretch of grass between us. An older woman was there in the middle of it. Her hair was pure white and long, like it had never been cut. She held her hand out to me, her face pleading for me to take it.

They saw her, too. Their faces were as frightened as mine must have been. They screamed and scattered and I stood there frozen. Sister Phyllis limped away, fell, and continued her escape in a crawl.

"Hello, Christine," the woman whispered. I trembled as she stepped closer. Christine? No one had ever called me that. "I'm Sophia. I'm a witch. I've been watching you. Don't do this. Come with me."

"Watching?" I mouthed. I couldn't manage the sound.

She nodded.

I was right about the feeling, about the eyes. Hers were a sparkling blue, like water glimmering under the sun. Something in them made me give her my muddy hand.

She pulled me closer to her plump frame. She whispered something too soft for my ears to decipher, and my body lifted from the ground. My hair and pajamas blew violently in the seconds that we soared through the air or through the light, I couldn't tell. Even when I opened my eyes, I could only see the white of her hair.

We landed with a thump in a fancy kitchen. She dropped my hand, and the fear that should have struck me at my dorm pommeled me. A witch? How? How was that even possible?

Another wave of fear rocked me as I realized I'd almost become a murderer. Sienna and Whitney were sixteen-year-old girls, and I almost ensured that they wouldn't turn seventeen for startling me. I'd fallen on my own. I'd freaked out about my blood by myself.

I was the worst kind of evil.

Shame and fear pushed on my stomach, dredging up the rest of my dinner. She snapped her fingers, and a trashcan appeared in front of me. I hurled and cried as she rubbed my back.

Soon, the vomit stopped, and I was only gagging on spit and guilt. She swept my curls up and placed a wet cloth on my neck. Her touch didn't carry anything with it. I couldn't hear her thoughts and I didn't feel a thing, unlike the times I'd accidentally touched a human.

She stared at me as she wiped my mouth, carefully and gently. "You wouldn't have hurt anyone," she said, almost like she'd just discovered that. "You would've stopped yourself without me."

She sighed and brushed my hair out of my face. She smiled like she liked and was surprised by what she saw there. She stepped away and pulled a cell phone from her pocket.

"Hi," she said to the person she'd called on the other end. "New Orleans. I... I took her. I had to. I thought—" She paused and brought her free hand to her hip. "I know. I know. I can handle it. She's..." She looked over her shoulder to me. "This situation is... fragile. I'll call you."

She turned around to me and smiled again.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"My..." She paused, taking my hands in hers. "My husband. I needed to tell him what I did. We've both been watching you for a while. I thought I needed to stop you from..." She flipped my hands over and stared into my palms. She must have seen the fire come from them in the bathroom.

"Why would you care if I stopped?" I asked.

"Because you're not hateful. I don't want you doing hateful things just because you're upset. I think you need to rest a while. Do you want to stay here until you calm down?"

She pulled two of the four tall chairs out from under the large island in the center of the kitchen. I perched on the edge of the seat. It was cream, like the billions of cabinets in here, and I didn't want to get it dirty. She sat next to me and put an arm around my shoulder.

"I'm too young to leave school," I said. I'd been plotting my escape for years. I knew the day, down to the hour, that I'd have custody of myself. When I could make my own decisions and head to Florida.

"You've already left school. You're in New Orleans, Louisiana right now, and you can stay as long as you want. As long as it takes you to feel differently about those girls."

"What would time change? I'll still be a witch." The impossibility of her sitting here dawned on me again. "I thought I was the only one left. I thought magic was..."

"Extinct?" She laughed deep from her chest, rattling phlegm. "Of course not. My children and I would make five. Their children would make eleven. My husband, twelve. His sister, thirteen. I could go on, dear, and that's just my family."

I felt dizzy and nauseous again. "Are they here?" I asked, looking over my shoulder.

"No, my children are all older than fifty, and Gregory, my husband, is away. We both spend most of our time helping magical kind."

"Like me?"

She pulled her arm away and sighed. She stiffened in her seat.

"Not really." Her cell phone rang, making me jump. "Excuse me." She opened it and walked slowly to the sink, sighing and listening.

"Are you sure? It's your decision. I'll tell you later. Calm down. She's only been here for five minutes, give me a chance." She sighed and paused, listening to the person who was obviously asking about me. "I know that. I will," she said and snapped the phone shut.

She smiled, her face more strained than it was before. I didn't notice what was wrong with that picture until then. She was smiling and had laughed... hard. Things our kind couldn't do.

"What do you know about your parents?" she asked.

"They died in a fire."

She nodded. "Did you know they were wealthy?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Um... I never really thought about it."

She snapped her fingers, and I jumped again. A manila folder appeared in her hand, and she slid back into the seat next to me.

"This is Raymond and Catherine's will." I could count the times on one hand that I'd thought of their names, that I'd thought of them as actual people at all. "My husband and I were searching for it. Several of us were, actually. They had no family or close friends, so when they died, we thought we'd find their money. Otherwise it would just go to waste. But... when we found the will," she said, opening the folder. "We found out about you."

She pointed to my name, Christine Cecilia Grant. That was how she knew to call me that. That and she wasn't human. She slid her wrinkled finger to the middle of the page, to the amount of my inheritance. I gasped and nearly fell out of the chair. "Fifty... fifty-two million?" I asked. She nodded. "Dollars?"

"Yes," she said, chuckling. "Your inheritance caused a major treasure hunt when you were a baby. Then it became a myth since we were all unsuccessful for years. Gregory and I never gave up, but we couldn't take it once we learned it was for you."

I shook my head, feeling severely disoriented. "You... knew them?"

"No. Not personally. They were quiet and strangely private people. No one even knew they had a child. We believe they hid you in New Haven. They probably knew they were going to die and wanted you to be safe. We decided not to bother you and have kept an eye out for you over the last two years."

I sighed, sinking deeper in my chair. "They hid me? That's insane," I said.

"Not considering what year you were born in. Everyone was preparing to die. My entire family and I hid out in a little house for years until we reached a treaty."

"Treaty?" She nodded. "I didn't think anyone else made it but me. That's what we learned in history."

"History," she repeated, chuckling. "The extinction story serves everyone, I guess. Gives us all peace."

Not all of us. Not me. "Why would they hide me with humans?" I asked. She hunched her shoulders, just as clueless.

The phone rang again. I shuffled through the will as she stepped away to answer it. They even had the bank account information. The money was under my real name at a bank in New Haven.

"Can you trust me, please?" she said, as soon as she flipped her phone open. "Thank you. Yes. Yes." She sighed. "I will try. I know how important this is," she said, softer and less annoyed with her husband, I guessed. She put the phone on the counter but didn't turn around.

"Oh," I said, when it hit me. Of course this witch wasn't trying to help me for no reason. This was the perfect time to cash in. She conveniently showed up at my lowest moment, when I wasn't thinking, when I had no options, to appear as my savior. I rested my head on the cold marble of the island. "How much do you want?" I asked. She still didn't turn. She didn't need to pretend anymore.

"Ten thousand," she whispered. My breath snagged in my throat. Blackmail. She'd probably turn me in if I didn't give her what she wanted. "It's truly a request," she said. "I am not demanding anything from you. I thought I would ask... since you're here. Saving people is costly work, and rarely do we come across someone like you who can help us... help others. I know it looks calculated, but I swear I stopped you for your own good. If you choose not to help us, you can still stay here for as long as you want."

"You're not going to turn me in?" She shook her head, her extremely long hair swaying where it dangled low on her back. "And I can stay here until I... don't want to... kill them?" She nodded and mumbled an um-hum. It wasn't exactly the cabin built for one in the secluded forest, but I'd take it. If I had fifty-two million, I could spare ten thousand, and I supposed she could have taken it all and I'd never know. "Okay," I whispered.

She turned around with a smile. "Thank you, my dear. From the bottom of my heart, I am truly grateful."

"How?" I asked. She narrowed her eyes.

"How... what?"

"How do you feel that? Grateful? Humor? You are a witch, right?"

She walked to me slowly and tucked a curl behind my ear. "Let's get you to bed, dear. It's getting late. You should rest."

She led me through her home. Every inch of it was as fancy as the kitchen. It was softly, but expensively, decorated with cream and gold throughout. She barely spoke during the tour, allowing me to take in each room on my own. The flat screen TV in the living room shocked me. Was she performing for someone, too?

She couldn't be. She'd openly practiced witchcraft, evoking the devil with a smile. Not a hint of fear in her eyes.

"The second floor has more bedrooms," she said as we climbed the stairs. She didn't take me to see them. We kept moving up the last flight. Sophia was old and on the heavier side, but had no trouble getting up to the third floor.

I lingered in front of a painting of a peaceful looking woman, dressed only in a sheet. She rested on a wood floor, covered in yellow flowers and brownish-green vines. They looked eerily similar to the ones covering the cabin in my dream.

Sophia tugged on my hand. "That room is locked," she said, pointing to a door I hadn't noticed next to the painting. "Yours would be this way."

We walked to the other end of the hall, skipping the explanation of why the room was locked. The double doors opened in front of us, whooshing as they slid across the wood floor. It looked more like a living room than a bedroom. It was twice the size of my dorm room, so it would more than suffice.

I stepped in slowly and stopped when the tips of my clogs reached a rug. It was made of cream feathers; it looked too expensive to walk on. I spun around and saw a huge TV mounted on the wall in front of the mint green sofa. If I had to imagine where witches lived, since they were still alive now, I'd picture their homes smothered in deep purple and black. Nothing like this room.

"This is the sitting room. The bedroom is through there," she said, pointing to an arched doorway.

"This looks expensive." I wanted to ask if this was why she didn't have any money now, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to be rude.

I kicked off my clogs so I wouldn't get mud on the feathery rug. She led me through the arch to the bedroom. It was... grand, far too nice for me. But in a house like this, I'd bet all the rooms were similar.

The bed was a queen-sized canopy draped in gold fabric thick enough to be curtains. It was as elegantly decorated as the windows in the St. Catalina formal ballroom.

The comforter was cream with pink flowers. The same pink flowers I'd seen in my dream. There were about a zillion pillows stacked from the headboard to the middle of the bed. Two cherry wood tables sat on both sides of it with cream candles of varied lengths in the middle of them.

I squinted my eyes as I stepped into the ritzy bathroom, adjusting to the bright lights the gold and crystal chandelier scattered around the room. It hung over a huge circular tub in the middle of the floor, raised on four gold feet. The shower was separate inside a nearly transparent casing. Soap and shampoo appeared in there while I stared.

"Leave those muddy pajamas on the floor, dear," Sophia said. "I'll get them after your bath."

"Um... I don't have clothes to put on."

"I've whipped up some. They're in here." I followed her through another door in the bedroom—the closet. The very full closet. Denim, arranged from light to dark, covered the entire left wall. There were two or more pairs of each wash. The center wall, the longest, was stocked with jackets, dresses, skirts, and fancy shirts. The right had shelves with sneakers on the bottom two, flats on the middle three, and high heels and long boots at the very top.

I ran my fingers along the upholstered chair in the center. I guessed I would need to rest while deciding what to wear with this many choices.

"If you can do this, why would you ever need money?" I asked.

"Magic doesn't do everything, and some things are illegal to create. Not clothes, fortunately." She patted my stomach and chuckled. "You're a tiny little thing, you know? I'm afraid these won't fit you." I looked down at my boney arms dangling inside the sleeves of my coat. I'd lost weight since I'd sworn off the cafeteria, but I hadn't noticed how much until then. "Do you like them? I'm seventy-eight, and you, my dear, are sixteen. I hope these clothes are in fashion."

Seventy-eight? She seemed younger than that, about twenty years younger.

"Do I need to pay you for this?" I asked, since I couldn't give her an appropriate reaction—jumping for joy and showing gratitude. I wasn't in the mood to pretend like she was.

"The ten thousand should cover it," she said, laughing. She snapped again, and I heard water beating into the tub moments later. "There are under-items and pajamas in the dresser in the bedroom now." She winked and vanished, leaving me alone and more than a little stunned.

My knee stung in the bathtub, but I stayed in long enough for my skin to prune, building up the nerve to pray.

"I know you probably don't want to talk to me," I said, to God. "... after what I did, almost did, and running away with a witch. I just wanted to apologize. I'll do better next time. I won't lose it when I go back."

I sat back in the tub, letting the jets massage my feet. I wasn't planning on getting out of the warm water anytime soon until Sophia popped back into the bathroom. I jumped in the mini pool, splashing water everywhere, and threw my hands over my less than impressive boobs. She rolled her eyes.

"I have three daughters and four granddaughters, and none of them take as long as you do in the bathtub," she said. She handed me a fluffy white towel from the cabinet. "Your dinner is getting cold."

I stepped out of the tub, shielding myself with the towel. "I already ate."

"Your diet consists of cold cuts and orange slices. You did not eat. And most of that is in the garbage now. I've wanted to make you eat something else for a while, but I try not to be intrusive," she said, handing me the new underwear I'd set aside, intrusively.

I stood there, wrapped in the huge towel, dripping on the tile, until she got the hint that I wouldn't get dressed in front of her.

I inhaled the steamed carrots and baked chicken in the sitting room, hungrier than I thought I was. After, I followed her order to get in bed.

Sophia rolled up the leg of my sweat pants when I sat.

"Flesh be healed, flesh be sealed," she whispered over the scrape. My knee tingled, and before my eyes, the skin closed like nothing was ever wrong with it.

"Magic can heal?" I asked.

She pulled back the thick comforter and motioned me to get under it. "Of course. What do you think magic is for? Killing?" She laughed like that was the most ludicrous thing in the world. I stared at her, waiting for something to be funny to me. She took a deep breath to settle herself. "Oh," she said. "Is that really what you think?"

I nodded. "I just thought... since magic is evil, that it's for evil things. I mean... we're soulless for a reason. Satan... um... made us to—"

She held up her hand and sat on the edge of the bed like my words had taken something out of her, made her tired.

"Soulless? Satan? Like... the Satan? You can't be serious." She patted my leg, the one she'd healed. "Your parents made you, Christine. If you'd like me to explain how, I can also get into that." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Is that what you meant about feeling?" I nodded. "What don't you feel?"

"Happy. Anything good," I whispered. "Because I don't have a soul."

"That's what they taught you there?"

Tears filled my eyes. "Yes."

"You have a soul, sweetheart. One as beautiful as you are. A sweet and generous soul. You have been taught wrong, love."

"Then why did I almost kill someone today?" The cry distorted the question. "Why am I always so angry and sad and never happy."

Sophia scooted closer and wiped my cheeks with her thumbs. I needed to stop crying. I hated how it felt, the liquid weakness on my face. "There is a far less mystical explanation. You're always down, sad. You're always in bed and eat very little. When I would watch, I never once saw you talking to someone or doing much of anything. I'm not a therapist, but I would say you are depressed, love."

I stared, at her at first, then at the flowers on the comforter, considering that. I'd never thought something could be wrong with me... that way. I'd thought it was the magic.

"Do you think that's possible?" she whispered.

I hunched my shoulders. "All I know about myself is that I'm a witch."

"Who you are has nothing to do with magic. It's about your desires, the things you love, the things you stand for." I desired for people to die today and many times before it. I loved nothing. I stood for... nothing. So Sophia was wrong. I rolled over, turning my back on her and her theory. She whispered, "Goodnight," and turned the lights off in the room.

The seriously insane night crashed down on me hard, but I refused to cry again. I'd done enough of that tonight for a lifetime.

I couldn't stay in bed. My mind kept shifting, racing. There was entirely too much to think about to sleep. I'd almost burned Sienna and Whitney to death. I'd ached to hear the sound of breaking bones. I'd met a witch who informed me that magical creatures were not extinct. My parents, who I rarely even thought about, left me fifty-two million dollars—an inheritance creatures have been after for years, and I'd vanished from the courtyard in front of everyone.

I went into the sitting room, well my sitting room that I'd paid ten thousand dollars for, and flipped on the TV.

A woman with seriously skinny fingers showcased a sparkly ring for the low price of 29.99 on the first channel. As I flipped, looking for something decent to watch, BREAKING NEWS flashed across the bottom of a news screen. But that's not why I stopped. The rest of the headline read: New Haven Teen Abducted.

# Chapter Three

The news anchor with the fluffy brown bob was rattled. I heard the panic in her flat, newsy voice.

"Again. We have gotten reports that a sixteen-year-old girl from New Haven, Connecticut was taken by what witnesses are calling a witch, just hours ago. Security cameras at St. Catalina Catholic Boarding School reveal a blast of light but not a figure. Authorities say these tapes are of poor quality, and they are working to obtain a better image of the assailant."

The screen changed to a startling image of my yearbook picture. My heart squeezed painfully. I looked awful, eyes detached and deranged.

I remembered that horrible day vividly. A senior looking for a laugh had startled me on the staircase, and I'd tumbled down to the next floor minutes before I had that picture taken. My mind was on revenge—something Sophia didn't seem to think had anything to do with magic. The camera caught my evil glare, and it was now broadcasting around the country.

"This is sixteen-year-old Leah Grant. She may also answer to the name Christine. She was last seen wearing light blue pajamas and a burgundy coat. She is said to be around five feet, five inches, with dark brown eyes and hair. She is described as mixed race—possibly half black, half white."

I rolled my eyes at the possibly part, hearing Whitney in that. She'd gone through many theories of my race since my file classified me as other. I never cared, and she eventually gave up and deemed me an unidentifiable conglomeration.

And now the world knew me as a possibly. The world... knew me. I shivered. My evil face flashed in front of me with the caption: Teen taken by witch. Have our worst fears been realized?

This was beyond terrible. I'd just exposed magic. Sophia. Myself.

I ran down the stairs. Sophia was stretched out on the sofa with a book in her hands, looking like the picture of tranquility.

"I'm a missing person!"

"Naturally, dear." She turned the page like I hadn't said anything shocking.

"They think a witch took me!"

"One did." She looked up from the book and smiled. "I suppose I should've been more discrete, but I had to act fast."

"But, Sophia... humans don't know we still exist. Isn't that dangerous?"

She laughed and adjusted a pillow behind her head. "The government is well aware, love. We have a treaty, remember? They only care about those of us who are causing trouble."

"But I've been hiding there, and I almost—"

"Relax, honey. I got there in time, and besides the words of a few frightened teenagers, there will be no proof. And the government is not interested in sweet little girls who happen to find themselves in the wrong environment. You didn't talk very much to any of the girls, and you didn't have a boyfriend. That means you didn't violate the No Contact clause of the treaty. You haven't done anything wrong. Trust me. Go back to bed."

But I couldn't go to bed. I wasn't a sweet little girl, and a picture that proved it was on the news. I stayed on the sofa in my sitting room, watching my face on the screen as the story looped for hours.

St. Catalina issued a statement saying they wouldn't rest until I was found and brought home safely. Home? Yeah, right. I'd only been with Sophia for a few hours, and I already felt more at home here. Even though she rescued me for money. At least she was honest about it.

They played the fuzzy security video a billion times. It looked like I'd been enclosed in light. Then it flickered and shut off. When the feed picked up again, I was gone. The camera didn't pick up Sophia at all. But everyone outside had seen her. I remembered the horrified looks on their faces before they ran.

They even had the late night crew on the story. It was nonstop coverage, like nothing else was going on in the world. This was the opposite of what I wanted to be. Girls on the news are not invisible.

My eyes became too heavy to hold open some time after four AM. I dreamed of hell, being ushered in and given my own room. Even though I hadn't thought about her much, I felt like Catherine was there. I walked around, unharmed in hell, whispering, "Mom." I couldn't find her, so I went back to my room. I lay in bed surrounded by flames that didn't burn me. It smelled like oranges. Sadistic peace.

The TV was off when I woke up, and I was under a blanket I hadn't covered myself with. Breakfast was on the table with a glass of orange juice. She'd left a note.

Come down when you're ready. I have news.

The eggs and bacon were cold. I glanced at the clock. Almost noon. I took the plate and headed down the stairs in search of a microwave.

"Speak," Sophia said. A dog barked and startled me. "Good. Fetch." I walked down to the second floor and peered over the banister. A gigantic white dog ran to where Sophia pointed. It brought back a rolled up newspaper. "Wonderful." She unfolded a blanket and held it out to the dog. "Now shift," she said.

It leaned on its hind legs. Its white fur faded to toned flesh. Its back paws stretched to feet. His front paws turned to hands, and he grabbed the blanket from Sophia. The chiseled face of a boy replaced the snout. Shifters were not supposed to look like that. In the pictures I'd seen, they had bloody claws on human hands and foam dribbling from their mouths. This one had low cut black hair, and he was handsome and... naked behind a blanket.

"You are exceptionally friendly for a canine shifter, Nathan. Playful, even," Sophia said.

"Thanks, I guess," he said then looked up at me. He bucked his eyes. I could tell they were deep green from where I stood frozen and staring. He tightened the blanket around his waist.

"Good morning... well... afternoon, dear," Sophia said, like a naked boy wasn't next to her. One that had just been a dog. "You don't have to eat that. I have lunch waiting in the kitchen for you."

I nodded and passed the witch and shifter I was told didn't exist. I spotted the grilled cheese sandwich on the island. I sat where I'd been last night when Sophia turned my world upside down... or right side up. I wasn't sure yet.

The sound of something purring made me jump. Then something brushed my leg. I looked under the island and a huge cat... no a freaking panther with a shiny black coat crawled from under it.

I screamed and flipped out of the chair. It crawled closer, purring, as I scrambled to my feet. I crashed into Sophia and screamed again.

"Remi," Sophia said, calmly. "We agreed that you would stay on two legs this morning, didn't we?" The cat... or person, curled up and loosened something silky from her leg that was tied there.

As she rose to her legs, she draped herself in a black robe. The teenaged girl had jet-black hair against ghostly skin and the strangest ice-blue eyes.

"Sorry for frightening you," she said, her human voice still a purr. I was too freaked out to speak. Remi strutted out of the kitchen before I could get any words out.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Sophia asked. I nodded as my heart settled from the shock of seeing a panther in the kitchen.

She straightened the chair for me and patted the seat. I sat down and nibbled on the sandwich.

"That was my news. I brought you some roommates, or maybe I should say... bought." She giggled but stopped when I didn't join in. "Your generous contribution allowed me to rescue a couple of teenagers in need. They're all around your age or a few years older. That was Remi. She's a shifter. Panther. You saw Nathan. There is also a witch here. Her name is Emma. I've known her since she was two years old. You're going to love her. And... this doesn't technically count as a rescue, but my grandson, Paul, has come for a change of scenery. Honestly, he's driven my son and daughter-in-law insane, and I'm giving them a break."

She opened the window over the sink, and warm, wet air spilled into the room. Way warmer than expected. She inhaled dramatically and released it with a smile, taking the happy witch thing a little too far.

"I think this is going to work out well, dear. You can stay as long as you want, hopefully get to know the other kids, and have a little fun."

Or not. I wasn't the friend type. I'd never been. Whitney only hung around me because we'd always shared a room... until she reached her limit. And Mr. Crusty died before we had a chance to meet.

Sophia smiled, and a tall boy with blonde hair framing his slender face walked into the kitchen with us. He had on ratty gray jeans, a green dress shirt buttoned only halfway up, and a blue scarf around his neck that it seemed too warm for. He looked like he belonged both in a dumpster and on the cover of a magazine. Disheveled on purpose. He met Sophia at the sink and hugged her from behind. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked her.

"Yes. I'm fine. Why?"

He held the back of his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature. "I didn't get any lunch yet. I've been up there waiting and wasting away. I'm thinking a meatball sandwich. Oh, and can you sprinkle cheese over my bread and bake it in like you usually do?"

"I told your parents you'd have more responsibility here, Paul," Sophia said. He pushed his lip out and groaned, acting like a toddler. Not what I expected a wizard to act like. "You'll have to get your own lunch, but I'll make everyone dinner. So stop pouting and say hello to Christine," she said. I wanted to correct her and tell her my name was Leah, but I was too nervous to say anything. I hadn't had to talk to anyone close to my age since Whitney left.

Paul leaned over the island, his face hovering over my plate, and winked—eyes as blue as his grandmother's. Up close, I could see scraggly blonde hairs on his face trying to become a beard. Again, making him straddle the line between handsome and bum.

"Hi there," he said. "I've heard a lot about you... all day long. I was annoyed, honestly, but now it was well worth sitting through Nana's constant praise of you."

Sophia smacked his butt. "Don't be foolish, Paul. She's way out of your league."

Paul laughed, a sneaky little laugh, and wrapped his arms around his grandmother again. He puckered for a kiss and she dodged his lips until he planted a sloppy one on her cheek. What the hell? Kissing grandmothers? Laughing? Obviously pretending to be something we aren't. But why?

"Out of the league of your favorite grandson?" he said. "That hurts, Nana."

Sophia wiggled free and smacked his shoulder. "And stop smoking! You smell awful," she said. Paul sniffed his shirt and laughed... again. "We're about to have a meeting. I'm going to lay down the rules, and you, especially, should be there." He walked around the island and pulled out a chair next to me. Sophia snapped her fingers, and it flew back to its place. "Don't even think about it. Find somewhere else to sit."

He threw his head back and groaned. "I thought you said I was getting a break. When did you become worse than my parents?" he said. Sophia rolled her eyes, and he left us alone in the kitchen.

"Sorry, dear. Paul is nineteen but doesn't act a day older than seven sometimes. Let me know if he comes on to you. I'll set him straight." I nodded, even though I was sure he wouldn't. Same species or not, I wasn't the kind of girl guys were interested in. "What were we talking about?" she asked. "Ah... buying out the hunters."

"Hunters?"

"Um, humans who search for and capture magical kind for a living."

There was so much I didn't know. An entire world and a whole career devoted to solving a problem for humans I didn't know still existed outside of myself.

"They capture us, you said?" I asked. She nodded and pushed my plate closer. I guessed I wasn't eating fast enough for her.

"Only those of us who break the treaty. If they haven't done something truly awful, it's only a matter of naming a price higher than what the government would pay for them. Because of you, I cleared a hunter's stock this morning." She blew me a kiss. I didn't know how to react. "Bless you, my love."

"Um... no problem."

Sophia's hand flew to her shoulder. Someone I couldn't see giggled. "Emma," Sophia said, smiling.

A brunette appeared next to her. The witch, I guessed. She should have been the most like me, but she wasn't. Not even close. The biggest difference was the huge smile plastered across her face. Her eye shadow sparkled in the light flittering through the window. Her cheeks were highlighted in pink blush. She reminded me of Barbie, or Barbie's friend with the dark hair. She was even dressed from head to toe in a few shades of pink, just like the dolls. If she went to St. Catalina, she would definitely hang out with Sienna.

"Christine, this is Emma," Sophia said, smiling with every one of her teeth.

"Hello, Christine," she said, in a thick French accent. She smiled and held out her hand to me. "I've heard lots about you."

As soon as our hands touched, I heard her thoughts. I knew French well enough to know she thought I was pretty. Unexpected.

Her face didn't show that she'd heard anything odd in my head. Maybe it was a common courtesy not to mention it. Sophia hadn't either. Emma dropped my hand, and the room was silent again. No buzzing like there was at school. I guessed that was a human thing.

"Hi," I said. An awkward pause followed my greeting. I was supposed to say something more than hi, I'd bet. Talking to Sophia was easier. With the roommates I'd met, I felt frozen, my tongue and my brain. I wanted to put my head down, be invisible, like she'd just been.

"Could you get Remi for me, Emma? I want to have a meeting now." Emma nodded and snapped twice. Nothing happened that I could see. "It's alright, dear. Close your eyes, concentrate, and try again." Emma closed her eyes and snapped, slower and louder this time, and she vanished. Sophia erupted in applause like that was some sort of accomplishment and magic was something to be proud of. "My little Emma," she said, fondly. "Porting around like a pro."

Porting? I could do that, and it didn't involve snapping.

Sophia took my empty plate and rinsed it off in the sink. She dried her hands on her dress, yellow with green flowers around the collar and sleeves, and grabbed my hand to help me down from the stool. It felt like the room and the world were spinning around me, leaving me dizzy and confused. Nothing made sense in this new, crazy world where witches wore flowers and blew kisses and sprinkled cheese on meatball sandwiches.

Sophia led me to the sofa, asking about my night, how I'd slept, and if the newscast upset me too much. We were only alone for a minute. Emma and Remi, who had on normal clothes now, came in together.

Nathan walked in after them, dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

"Hi. I'm Nathan Reece," he said. He smiled and waved. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. I didn't expect you to come in while I was... you know."

"It's okay," I said, straightening my shirt for no reason but to look away.

Nathan sat on the floor, and the girls took the other sofa. Paul strolled in, smelling like smoke, and tried to squeeze between Sophia and me. She swatted him away, and he took the floor by her feet.

"Okay, kids. I think everyone has met by now. And you're all settled in your rooms. I hope all of you are responsible and respectful, but just in case, I'm giving you some rules to follow. First one. Please ask my permission to leave the house." Paul grunted, and she kicked his arm. "And no going out after dinner."

"We're in New Orleans! Are you kidding?" Paul said.

"This city has an extremely high number of hunters, and I don't want to get any calls in the middle of the night to come bail you out of trouble. If you go out and party, drinking and forgetting your control, you can consider yourself caught already. And Paul, you promised your parents you wouldn't drink at all." He held his fingers to his head like a gun and pulled the trigger. "We will follow human laws in this house, and none of you are twenty-one."

Emma chuckled but dissolved her smile when Sophia glared at her. "Sorry, Sophie," she said.

"Next rule," Sophia said, accepting her apology with a nod. "No hanky panky."

"You may as well call this the Kill Paul Slowly Meeting," he said.

"Thank you, Paul. You've reminded me of another rule. No griping. If I ask you to do something, please just do it. Backtalk will get you kicked out, and you'll lose the protection living here provides. You are safe here, but out there... not so much. Especially those of you who can't control your magic well."

I felt myself sinking lower into the cushion, feeling like the comment was directed at me—the girl who'd lost complete control last night.

"Next rule, until you find a job, you will be expected to do a chore every day. If it is not done," she said, pointing to the door. "You can find somewhere else to live."

Paul jumped to his feet and walked to the door. Sophia cleared her throat, and he ran back to her feet, laughing and rubbing her leg.

"And the final rule," Sophia said, her voice going cold. "The most important of all. You will not under any circumstances reveal to anyone that you have seen Christine. Not a human. Not our kind. No one. She has been in hiding for years, and despite currently being on the news, she wants to stay that way."

Sophia nudged my arm. I looked up into her sparkling eyes and saw that she wanted me to explain.

"I'm Leah." I rolled my eyes. Sophia had already introduced me by my blasphemous name. "That's my name from school, anyway. I'm... a witch." I swallowed hard. It was strange admitting that to them. "I've been pretending to be human."

"Can you speak up? I can barely hear you," Remi said.

I didn't realize how low my voice was. I guess I wasn't used to talking, at any volume. "Sorry," I whispered, even softer.

Sophia grabbed my hand, twining her fingers through mine.

"She is very soft spoken and hasn't been awake very long today. She said that she has been hiding at her school. She has been pretending to be a normal sixteen-year-old girl, but she is not. That brings me to another point. She doesn't actively practice witchcraft, so please don't ask for exhibitions or anything like that. Respect her wishes. She's used to living as a human, and she plans to continue that." Heads nodded around the room, and Sophia leaned closer to my ear. "Sweetheart, you can go to your room and get dressed. I'll be up in a second."

I untangled our fingers and headed for the stairs. I caught a glimpse of the rolled up newspaper Nathan had fetched on a table as I passed it. I could see enough of the headline to know the cover story was about me. I unrolled the paper, and there I was, glaring at the world with my creepy trance face on the cover of The Times Picayune. Whatever a Picayune was.

I shook my head. Hours of sleep hadn't made this any more believable. I was partly waiting to wake up in my dorm room and start my usual dance—pretending to be human and moving around the dorm like a well-practiced ghost. But I was really here and around more creatures that shouldn't exist, creatures that seemed to live very different lives from me.

I searched in my new closet for something to wear that was appropriate for sitting around all day.

I pulled on a pair of dark jeans and the most casual shirt in the closet—a slightly see-through, loose-fitting one. I'd never worn anything so nice and in this bright of a color, a mustard yellow.

I pulled my hair back in the tightest bun my curls would allow. I'd met my roommates with bedhead... and before I'd brushed my teeth. A wonderful first impression.

I remembered where Sophia had stashed the sweats and tees after I was dressed, but I didn't have enough energy to change. I stepped out of the closet, and she startled me with her sudden presence again, holding a plate of grapes and apple slices out to me. "Snack time," she said.

"I just ate."

"Snack time," she repeated. I took the plate. It didn't feel like I had a choice. I ate the fruit while she rummaged through a duffle bag hanging on her arm. She brought it to a desk I didn't remember being in the corner of the sitting room last night.

"Physics. Calculus. Chemistry. World History," she said, stacking four textbooks on the desk. She reached into the duffle again. More books. "French. Literature. Bible Studies." She cleared her throat and tapped the Bible Studies textbook. "You may want to pay special attention to this one. Read more closely than you've done before. It may clear up some of your confusion." I looked away, not wanting to debate evil magic and the Bible with another witch. "I want you to spend no less than four hours a day on your studies." She pulled a silver laptop out of the bag. "This will help."

"You're giving me... homework?"

"You're a high school student, and you should be learning. I checked. You are enrolled in all of these classes. I don't know when you're going back, but I want you to keep your mind fresh in the meantime. Do you think you'll be able to do it alone?"

I'd done the bulk of my learning since I was twelve on my own. "I'm used to it. Class was distracting," I said. I left it there, assuming she'd understand why. "Did, um, your kids do it this way?"

"No, they went to school," she said, like nothing was odd about that. "Three of them graduated from college. Of course, some of my grandchildren were homeschooled because of the war. The youngest ones went eventually when things calmed down. Paul graduated from a normal high school. Emma, too."

I had to look as confused as I felt. Maybe they just handled the distractions better than I could. "Did they have good grades?"

"Paul did, believe it or not. Emma... has a problem with numbers. If you notice it, don't laugh. She's very sensitive about it." I wanted to roll my eyes at her. Why would I, or any of us, have a problem not laughing? "Oh," she said, reaching into the pocket of her dress. "I got you a cell phone. It's not very fancy, but it calls and uh... texts or whatever it's called." I'd never had one of my own, but I'd seen enough cell phones to know that the pink flip-phone she'd tossed to me was dated. "I just thought you'd want one. The others have them, too."

I stashed the phone in the desk drawer, knowing I'd never use it, knowing it wouldn't ring. That was why I didn't bother getting one of the pre-paid ones from school.

"I didn't think witches needed things like this. Phones and stuff," I said.

Sophia smiled and sighed—an infuriatingly happy sigh.

"Once upon a time when all was right with the world, we didn't. Gregory calls technology the great equalizer. It made magic... less magical. The generation after us didn't want to learn it. My own children told me there was no point. Humans were suddenly more capable and cooler with their gadgets. To me, that caused the tension that eventually boiled over and caused some of us to lose our minds."

Some of us? I guessed Sophia didn't look like she could do the horrible things I heard magical kind had done. Home invasions. Mass murders. But neither did I. Looks are deceiving.

She pulled out her phone and mashed some buttons, and the phone in the drawer chimed, proving me wrong about it never ringing already. "I have to admit, this is a little faster than contacting someone the old-fashioned way. That's my number. Save it."

I saved it under Sophia as she scribbled my number on a torn out piece of notebook paper so I could learn it. We had different area codes. I was 504, she was 210.

"Where's 210?" I asked.

"San Antonio, Texas. I got yours here this morning. Oh, that reminds me." She pulled out a credit card from the same pocket she'd pulled the phones from. "Gregory managed to change the name on the account to Cecilia Neal without anyone noticing. Neal was your mother's family's name. I'm being overly cautious, but if they're tracking Christine Grant, I don't want online shopping to be the reason you get hauled off to school before you're ready."

"So this is mine?"

"Yes. We can change the name back when you're less famous, but I figured since you're a millionaire now, you'd want access to it. Check the desk drawer for your bank info. You can change everything. Greg and I don't want access to your money. We've been paid the agreed amount. Not a penny more."

I nodded, getting a bit overwhelmed by it all, and she excused herself to clean my room. I turned on the TV instead of doing homework. Of course my picture was on the screen. I was still Breaking News on the national channel.

"It has been nearly fourteen hours since sixteen-year-old Leah Grant disappeared from St. Catalina Catholic Boarding School. The video evidence has revealed nothing more than a flash of light after hours of digital enhancement. Witnesses report seeing a woman, no younger than fifty, inside the beaming light that seems to have swallowed the missing girl. What began as a kidnapping case for the New Haven Police Department has now captured international attention. It is an extreme honor to welcome the Honorable Lydia Shaw to our broadcast."

I nearly slid off of the sofa. Lydia Shaw had been the object of my intense fear since I first saw the magic on that awful Tuesday afternoon.

The anchor stood behind his podium and bowed to her, like we were taught to do if we ever met her. She saved the world at nineteen when she killed Fredrick Dreco, the wizard leading the war against humans. Nineteen seems a little young to be a wizard assassin, but she was. I wasn't sure what she did now. Maybe she was in charge of the hunters Sophia had told me about.

"Your Honor, it is a pleasure to have you on today," he said, looking like he'd met... well... the most famous woman in the world. She even had her own chapter in every history book I'd ever had.

"The pleasure is mine, thank you," she said. Her voice sounded nothing like I'd imagined it would. It was softer, calmer. She looked the same as the pictures I'd seen of her, though—blonde hair, honey eyes, delicate face. Not the face of a killer. Oh, but she was. Everyone knew that she'd spilled the most magical blood during the war. Not just Frederick Dreco, thousands of creatures like me. I imagined the blood running down her arms now as she clasped her hands in front of her.

"Your Honor, what do you make of the allegations of the abduction? Is it possible that a witch took the girl?"

"No, Ken, that is not possible. My special agents and I have spent the last seventeen years ensuring the safety of mankind. Our enemies are in their graves where they belong." Sophia cackled in the bathroom. "There has to be some other explanation for this."

"As in aliens? Delusional teenagers?" Ken asked.

"Perhaps the latter," Lydia said. "The incident took place after a fire alarm. I would suggest that the nuns check the rooms for drugs." Sophia laughed again, harder this time. "As for the light in the video, I don't have an answer for that. If it will make the people of New Haven and all those touched by Leah's mysterious disappearance more at ease, I will take charge of this case. I will search every crack and corner of this country and others. It is my sincere hope that we find her alive and unharmed and return her safely to her home as soon as possible."

I gasped. Lydia Shaw was looking for me. The Lydia Shaw. The woman I'd imagined capturing me, removing my head, adding it to her collection. I didn't realize how hard I was shaking until Sophia sat next to me and rubbed my shoulder.

"Is she in charge of the hunters?" I asked. She nodded. "Does she still kill us?"

"She would need a reason." Sophia's voice was a weak and frightening whisper. In my case, she'd have a reason, from last night alone.

I shook harder, my teeth chattering. She'd only have to string the obvious details together and she'd have the truth about last night—I was an outcast with a motive, my name had been called so I didn't have a reason to be outside, and I disappeared in front of sober witnesses.

"She's going to kill me, Sophia!" She took my hand in both of hers. "Hiding there was too hard. I'll blow it again when I go back. And now they know me. She knows me. Oh, God, what will—"

Sophia shushed me and kissed my hand.

"Relax. You never have to leave or go back to that place, love. I wanted to mention that last night, but I wanted you to make your own decision about it. I'm actually glad you almost slipped last night. It gave me a reason to intrude and finally meet you."

We sat there for what felt like forever with her lips on my hand. Her eyes were closed tightly. She was listening to my thoughts, I guessed. She sighed and placed my hand in my lap, not mentioning what she'd heard in my head.

She fumbled around for the remote and made the frightening woman fade to black. "Enough of that for now, dear. You're safe here, but if you're not going back to school, would you mind staying inside until she calls off the search. You can go out on the property, but not outside of the gate. Shouldn't be more than a week or so."

"Okay," I said. With Lydia Shaw and her hunters looking for me, I didn't want to be out of the gate. I'd hide forever if I could.

# Chapter Four

The chime of the cell phone woke me up. I was bundled up on my sofa with the Literature book in my hand. I'd started reading where my class left off on Friday, act four of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and dozed off a few lines in. I didn't hate reading. I was just exhausted, as usual.

The number on the screen wasn't Sophia. I flipped the phone open and cleared my throat.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Chris—uh, Leah. It's Emma. Are you busy?"

I shook my head like she could see me like an idiot. "No," I finally said.

"Sophie gave me your number. I was wondering if you wanted to come downstairs and hang out with us. We're just sitting around, nothing special." I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. Was this really happening? An invite? Like a real, social invite?

Panic made me stutter. "Um... Ssssure," I said.

"Okay, then. See you in a bit."

I sat there for a moment with the phone to my ear, stunned, after she'd hung up. My head swam with memories of the hundreds of invites I didn't get and the hundreds of invites I'd gotten as jokes.

My abysmal social status served me well now. Sienna hating me, my dead heart not letting me connect with anyone, and my embarrassing freak-outs had made me an outcast. And since I was an outcast, I hadn't violated the No Contact clause of the treaty, which I assumed meant what the words implied—we couldn't mingle with humans.

I imagined myself walking down the stairs and getting laughed at for taking Emma seriously. The thought of being humiliated here braced me to the sofa for ten minutes. But if it were a real invite, it would be awkward living here after blowing them off. I grabbed the empty plate from my snack. If I heard them laugh, I'd head for the kitchen like that had been my destination all along.

I held my breath on the stairs. My heart pounded like death was waiting in the living room. Nathan turned around as I cleared the last step. He lifted one corner of his mouth. I tried to fake it and smile back, but it came out as a facial spasm as I twisted my mouth and wrinkled my nose. I almost turned around then.

Paul jumped up from his seat and met me at the bottom of the stairs. "Can I get a better greeting now that Nana's not here to block us?" he asked.

He wrapped his arms around me before I could answer, pulling me into his mind.

I wonder if I'll have to play the nice guy with her. She's quiet. She won't go for a bad ass. Or will she? Her bra is totally showing—

I yanked away, muting his thoughts, and retreated to the kitchen. I stacked my plate on the pile in the sink and crossed my arms over my chest. It was the first time I'd touched a guy, and that didn't go well at all. He was thinking about my bra, and I, the creep, ran away without saying anything.

I bowed my head to apologize to God for using magic, but I raised it before I started the prayer. I didn't really do anything wrong... this time. I didn't ask to be hugged, he wasn't human, and I didn't even like it.

The cabinets took on the purple-orange light of the setting sun as I stalled, scared to go back in there with the magical teenagers who weren't as strange as me.

I gathered enough courage to leave the kitchen and managed a wave to the four of them. Paul winked, and I snatched a pillow from the sofa and braced it against my chest. It would be my first and last time wearing this shirt.

"What have you been doing?" Emma asked, as I sat on the farthest, emptiest end of the sofa.

"Sleeping. Reading before that," I said.

"You like to read?" Remi asked. Her tone wasn't curious, more surprised. Did I not look like someone who liked to read?

"Sophia gave me work to do. School stuff," I said.

"I thought you were avoiding us," Remi said. "I'd be pissed if everyone else stayed here free of charge and I'd coughed up cash like a dummy." I tightened my grip on the pillow and bowed my head, an automatic response to her tone.

"I hear you got the biggest room, though," Nathan said. "That's pretty awesome, right?" I managed a semblance of a nod to him. I wanted to go back to my room, but I didn't want to seem even stranger by fleeing after five seconds.

"Well, we're going out after dinner. You in?" Paul asked.

Staring at the stitching on my jeans, I shook my head. "They're searching for me. Lydia Shaw is." It became unnaturally quiet, like they'd frozen and stopped breathing. At least we had one thing in common—fear of Lydia Shaw. "Sophia seems to think I'll be able to leave the house after she gives up," I said.

Remi stretched on the sofa, flipping over to her belly, and threw her legs over Emma's lap. Tattooed vines covered her shoulder line and disappeared under her tank top. It looked painful and kind of interesting against her pale skin.

"Why would Sophia expose herself like that? What the hell was she rescuing you from?" Remi asked.

"I was... um... about to do something stupid," I said, unable to get my voice over a whisper.

"It couldn't have been dumber than what Remi and I did," Emma said. "We were getting frozen yogurt." She stopped to giggle. Her accent made yogurt sound expensive. "And we didn't have any cash... and we wanted to have a little fun. I made the register ding liked we'd paid, and the girl bought it. Not five minutes later does the hunter, dressed head to toe in leather, walk in. We sat there. Bold! Eating our yogurt, mocking him a little. Then he followed us out and... of course my magic does not work under pressure... and we ended up in a cell again. Public use of magic for the fourth time!"

They laughed, and I just sat there, staring at a bone jutting out of my wrist only covered by a thin layer of skin. How hadn't I noticed myself turning into a skeleton?

"Well, that's a great reason why we should stay in tonight," Nathan said.

"Come on, Sparky. You have to come," Paul said.

"I go by Nathan," he said. "And I don't want to get kicked out on my first night. You didn't just spend a week playing fetch with a hunter to avoid a cage."

"Some of us didn't avoid cages and we're still going," Remi said.

"She's not going to kick us out," Emma said. "Sophie is the nicest person in the whole world. I lived with her for a year. I would know."

I couldn't decide if she was calling Sophia Sophie because she was French or because she'd known her so long. Maybe both.

"Remember when I asked you to marry me so we could go on a honeymoon, Em? You were such a prude," Paul said.

"I was a child, Paul! And I loved every moment with Sophie... except when you would bother me."

"Did she save you then? If you don't mind me asking," Nathan said.

"She knows my mother, and both of my parents were being detained for something they didn't do. I stayed with her until they were freed."

"She slept one door away from me," Paul said, nodding his head as if that suggested something. Emma tossed a pillow at him.

"She's been my guardian angel for years," Emma said. Angel? I guessed that was an extremely loose interpretation of the word. "Especially this year after being captured so many times. I actually thought I'd reached the end of her kindness. I've never been locked up that long. My parents usually call her when they figure out Remi and I have been caught, and she's there in an hour or so. I was so happy to see her after the longest four days of my life that I had to say yes to staying with her and having rules to follow again."

"Ugh, we'd be partying in Mexico by now if she hadn't," Remi said. She obviously didn't appreciate what Sophia had done for her. A waste of my money. "Beaches and drinks and..." Remi shuddered and arched her back. A strained purr escaped her.

"Hold on, Remi," Emma said. Remi twisted and jerked, struggling in Emma's arms. "You can do it. Just stay you." Remi sprang from Emma's lap. Her jeans and tank top shredded and fell around her paws. She bounded up the stairs on four legs as my mouth hung open. "Poor thing. It's getting worse. She used to go forty-eight hours without shifting. Now it's only three."

Paul leaned over Emma and massaged her shoulders. He was really touchy. She didn't flinch; she looked comfortable, relaxed, and normal. "And how many hours is that reduced by, Em?" he asked. He snickered and winked at us.

Emma looked down at her fingers like she needed to count them to subtract three from forty-eight. "Um... it's reduced by a lot," she said, giving up.

Paul laughed hard, and she reached to her shoulder and grabbed one of his fingers. She bent it back, and he screamed playfully.

Weird. When someone made fun of me, I didn't want to play with their bones, I wanted to break them.

Paul took Remi's seat and reached his legs across Emma's lap. She sighed, tugging at a loose thread on his jeans. "How long can you go without shifting, Spar—Nathan?" Paul asked.

"A few weeks," he said. "You?"

The three of them cackled again while I just sat there, wishing I were bold enough to ask why they were faking.

Paul and Emma reminisced about the games they used to play when she lived with his grandmother. They seemed like happy, magical memories. Her face lit up with every "remember when." I was so confused. Their lives seemed so happy and innocent.

I wondered why her parents were detained, not killed like mine. Why weren't my parents shown mercy like hers and all the other creatures allowed to live?

If I were at school, the answer would've been in the buzzing in the air. Creatures were different. I couldn't hear anything unless I touched them, and that didn't even work on Sophia.

I sat there for an hour, hugging the pillow, listening and trying not to look too weird.

"You're really quiet, huh?" Nathan asked. I opened my mouth to say something but closed it when nothing came to mind. He laughed; it didn't feel like a taunt, more like he noticed how ironic it was that I couldn't find a response to being called quiet.

I sighed. His laugh sounded real, undoubtedly real.

"Christine, my love," Sophia said. She poked her head into the living room and winked. "Can I speak to you in here, dear?" I met her in the kitchen. "It's almost time for dinner," she said, barely a whisper. "Are you ready to... I mean are you interested in eating with—" I shook my head, cutting her off. Years ago, I swore to myself, as I stood covered in spaghetti that had been dumped on me "accidentally," that I would eat alone for the rest of my life. Nothing was going to change that. "I didn't think so," she said. "I'll bring a plate up."

I ran up the stairs without saying goodnight to the three of them.

Remi, in scary panther form, sat still and calm in the middle of the stairs—stairs she didn't need to be on, stairs that only led to my room and the locked one. She didn't budge as I approached, but growled faintly as I stepped around her. Moments later, I looked over my shoulder to check her position.

She was gone.

Sophia brought up four huge pieces of tilapia over a mound of yellow rice and eyed me as I ate. Halfway through, I pushed my plate away. She cleared her throat, and I finished the rest.

After she said goodnight, I opened my laptop to do something I'd wanted to do for years. I took a deep breath as I clicked the Internet icon. The cursor blinked on the search bar. I'd never gone past this point, knowing that a big red X would appear for all sites outside of the few on the approved list at St. Catalina.

I typed Witches and Satan and pressed Enter. It yielded over two million results in .09 seconds. I clicked the first one, and a chill crept over me. Exactly what I'd thought—evil beings that used powers to harm and had a major, terrible, role in the war against humans. It was the opposite of what Sophia said. The opposite of what Sophia... showed. Emma and Paul, too, I guessed. And Nathan wasn't human either, and he seemed nice. The magic in his blood made him change forms, and according to the nuns, he was strong enough to rip a human to pieces as either one. Remi, too.

Would it be that shocking for the nuns to be wrong about us being evil? They also thought we were all in Hell, and I was in a house full of creatures who weren't burning.

I couldn't ignore it anymore, what Sophia thought I was. I typed depression in the search bar and found a short survey that warned that it was not for the purpose of diagnosis; the exact reason I was about to take it.

I entered my age and gender.

Number 1. My future seems hopeless.

Was hopeless the same as waiting to be found and knowing that Hell was the only option when it happened?

I clicked the Strongly Agree box.

The next one read: Joy and pleasure have gone from my life. There wasn't a box to indicate that I'd never had joy and pleasure, so I clicked Somewhat Agree.

I groaned at the third. I feel irritable more days than not.

I was a little more than irritable. I'd say I was explosively angry when I couldn't control myself. I clicked Strongly Agree.

I scrolled down to scan the rest of the statements. They were about eating, sleeping, and energy, all things I would strongly agree with. I closed out the page. I could see where that was headed.

"So I'm not just a witch. I'm a crazy one," I said. These creatures were nothing like me. They joked and laughed and enjoyed being around others. They didn't look like they were fighting rage every moment of the day. If smiling and laughter required a soul, they all had one.

Something was wrong with me. Not magical kind. Just Leah.

My chest grew heavier with every step I took towards the bed. I wished my parents had left a note or something to explain it all. I wished they'd told me not to worry when the magic came, that Satan had nothing to do with any of it. And Sophia had been watching me. She'd taken helpless creatures in for years. She let me rot there. I wasn't as important as Emma who she'd saved several times.

I felt myself shattering as I crawled into bed. It felt like I was crawling into my grave.

A bark startled me just before my head hit the pillow. It, well he, barked again, then scratched at my door. I managed to lift my heavy body from the bed and pull it to the door to answer him.

He had the same green eyes as he had as a person, just surrounded by snowy fur. He dropped the newspaper from his mouth at my feet.

"I saw it already," I said. He nudged the paper closer with his nose. I kneeled and unrolled it. He'd written on my face when he had hands, I guessed.

Play with me, it said. "You... want to play?" He barked. It felt like a yes. "Fetch?" He answered with a wagging tail. Yes, again.

I rolled up the newspaper and flung it a few feet to the right. He scurried after it and ran out of the room, ending the shortest game of fetch ever. So I'd thought. He ran back and growled, playful unlike the panther, and took off again. I guessed he wanted me to follow him.

Since the only alternative was crawling back into my grave, I followed him through the dark house. He barked at a door in the kitchen.

"Outside? At night?" He jumped up on the door and tried the knob with his mouth, covering it with slob. It was locked. He whined, a cute disappointed sound, and I opened the door for him.

He sprinted out into the yard. I could barely make out the gate enclosing us in the distance. Nathan circled my legs, a huge splash of white in the grass. He dropped the newspaper at my feet. This time, I heaved it as far as I could, with all of the energy I had.

Somewhere between him charging after it and lowering my arm, I noticed it was the most energy I'd ever expelled on anything. How pathetic.

I threw it higher the second time. He jetted after it, flying through the sticky air, his paws barely touching the grass. He nudged my leg when he returned, first the right, then the left, then the right again.

"What?" I asked. He crouched, his tail in the air, like he was about to charge at me. "Run?" I asked.

He barked and I did. It was a wimpy jog at first, and he was right at my heels. Then I caught a glimpse of the stars above us, hovering over the home I should be grateful to stay in, twinkling in a night I should be grateful to be alive in. My legs moved faster, propelling me through the wet air and wet grass. My heart pumped violently for the first time without being afraid or livid.

His bark coached me on until I was no longer running from him. I was running to feel my heart pound. Running to feel my legs and arms move with a fervor I didn't think I could have.

Running because I'd feared death for years for no reason at all, waiting for someone to pluck me from my hiding spot. Waiting to burn. And I would have thought I deserved it. I'd sat in Mass truly believing I could combust, more than convinced that the God I prayed to hated me. Witches weren't soulless and incapable of happiness. My mind was just buried in a dark and hopeless place.

When the tears wanted to come up, I let them without straining. I kept running, because running felt like the opposite of dying—what I'd been doing for years. Nathan finally caught me, and I hurled the newspaper in the air and took off after him. We continued our game of fetch and chase until I didn't want to cry anymore. Until all I wanted to do was play with the friendly dog that barked at my door.

When exhaustion hit, I collapsed on the grass to catch my breath. He stretched out next to me.

"Do you like to be petted... like a real dog?" I asked. He rolled over to his back and panted. It was so cute that I had no choice but to smile.

# Chapter Five

For some reason, Sophia thought I wouldn't notice the strong smell of lemons wafting out of the bathroom at 7:30 in the morning. Or maybe that was her plan to keep me from sleeping the day away. After fetch, I'd read an article about depression. I had to stay out of bed during the day and find something interesting to do instead. Maybe I'd take up art again. I only stopped because I convinced myself that I was too evil to enjoy something.

I dodged a broom in the bathroom doorway tossing back and forth on its own as she stacked fresh towels in the cabinet.

"Morning, dear," she said. "I hope I'm not too loud in here."

"It's fine."

"I'm sorry it's so early, but I wanted to make sure I finished your room and made you breakfast before I went to work." A dustpan moved to the broom and it swept the little dirt it had gathered inside.

"I thought this was your job. Helping us," I said.

"That is more of a calling. I have a real job. One that pays human money that allows me to live in this human world," she said, chuckling.

"What do you do?"

She pointed to the broom and the sponge in the shower I hadn't seen moving. "This. I'm a maid. I'll be gone most of the day, but I can come back for lunch if you want me to be here to get your food for you."

I shook my head. "I can do that. And I can clean my own room, too, Sophia. You don't have to be my maid."

"Nonsense. I want to be, but if you say you can handle lunch on your own, I'll trust you to eat enough." I nodded, hearing and understanding the concern in her voice. I also needed to eat more if I wanted to stop being nuts. "And remember the four hours of schoolwork. The rest of the day is up to you, in the house of course."

My heart throbbed, thinking of Lydia Shaw out there searching for me. I had the sudden urge to ask if we could nail the doors and windows shut.

She picked up the sweaty clothes I'd left on the floor last night after playing with Nathan and threw them in the hamper.

"Didn't you say something about chores?" I asked.

"You have schoolwork. They have chores." She sprayed the flowery air freshener in a rainbow above us and gathered her cleaning supplies. "Have a good day. Call me if you need anything."

She vanished before I could ask if they knew I had maid service. I didn't want to be an outcast here, so I didn't want them to know that I'd technically paid the hunter to free them. I probably wouldn't make friends, but I didn't want any enemies.

She'd made me sweet oatmeal and left it on the table in the sitting room. I took it downstairs so the bed wouldn't tempt me. I tapped my foot on the stool as I ate in the quiet kitchen, reminding myself to move, to be alive like I was last night. After, I went out into the yard to see it in the light.

The kitchen opened to an outdoor patio that I didn't notice as I played fetch. Everything was so green here. I guessed the plants had no choice but to be healthy with all this water in the air.

"It's really beautiful," I said, trying out positivity like the article said, hoping it would foster positive feelings.

The words felt wrong and weird on my tongue, but I needed to try something. Obviously, what I had been doing, which was absolutely nothing as I wilted, wasn't the right way to go.

The house was antique, but timeless. Classic. The back yard was more than a back yard. It needed a better title, like resort. "Wow," I said, when I saw the pool. It was more narrow than it was wide and had fountains on the ends. The bottom was tiled. The tiny pieces came together to form a beautiful white flower.

I wondered what kind it was. After a moment, I knew, even though I didn't know a thing about flowers, that it was a magnolia. For the first time, I didn't want to apologize to God for a slip. I didn't plan to practice magic now, but if I didn't relax about the little things, I'd be apologizing all day for the rest of my life. And if I could make it through this week without seeing Lydia Shaw, that life could be longer than I'd ever imagined.

It was warm enough outside for a swim, but randomly splashing around in a pool would be pushing the whole positive me thing too far.

I treaded through the grass to the front of the house. Huge columns stretched all the way up to the third floor, my floor—that was really just two peaks with shutters. My room and the locked one, I guessed.

When there was nothing left to see but more of the neat lawn and the gate I wouldn't dare go out of, I went back into the kitchen and cleaned my dish. I didn't have chores, but I didn't want to make them clean up after me.

"Morning."

I spun around spastically to Nathan. "Hi," I said. I rolled my eyes at myself when I turned back to the sink. I peeked over my shoulder as he rummaged through the pantry and pulled out a box of cereal.

"Last night was fun," he said, pulling milk from the fridge. I didn't know why I was surprised he'd brought it up. Maybe because I hadn't spent time with him exactly. "Were you on the track team at your school or something?"

"No."

"Could've fooled me." His cereal pinged against the glass bowl in the silence. "You're not planning to tell anyone I actually like playing fetch, are you?"

"No." I was about to stop there, but we'd chased each other for almost two hours while I not so quietly cried, so I added, "Not if you're not planning on telling anyone about the tears."

"Deal. I decided not to go out with them because I was terrified to disobey Sophia. I didn't want to sit in my room all alone, so I wrote you a note and came as... you know."

"Why? Why not as you, I mean?" I asked as I stared out of the window over the sink. I realized I was being creepy, so I turned around and gave my best impression of normal.

He sat at the island and dug into his cereal. "You seemed shy. I thought you'd feel less threatened if you didn't have to worry about talking to me." He sighed and smiled. "And... I really wanted to play, which is the opposite of how I'm supposed to feel about being an animal. It's not like being a witch. It's not as cool. Technically, I'm classified as a beast."

His mouth froze, lips still twisted in a smile, but sadness lurked there now. So slightly, a normal person probably wouldn't have seen it. Like depressed eyes could detect depressed things.

I left the counter and sat two chairs over from him, ready to attempt something I'd never been able to do—have a conversation without awkward pauses. I borrowed Sophia's tone and words, imitating someone who wasn't terrible at this.

"Sophia says who you are has nothing to do with magic," I said, my voice shaking. I pushed through the jitters. "Just because someone thinks the kind of... thing you are is bad, doesn't mean you are." I didn't intend to sound sad, but it came out as heavily as it had been weighing on me.

"You're right. You have to have your own opinion. I like shifting ... after I got over the initial shock, anyway. I didn't think any of this existed still until I woke up with paws one day last year," he said.

"Really?" I asked, genuinely interested. He nodded. "Me, too. Well, not last year and not paws, but still. Your parents didn't tell you?"

"That's complicated, but the people I know as my parents have no idea. I figured they'd turn me in, so I just took off."

He swirled his spoon around the bowl, twisting his mouth to the side. His eyes were sad. I wanted to reach my hand to his face to cheer him up, but it wasn't the right time to pet him. Wasn't the right him to pet.

"I'm sorry," I said instead.

"No big. I heard on the news yesterday that your parents died in the war. Did they really? Just on a different side than they think?" he asked. I nodded. "Sorry."

"I never met them. I don't..." I stopped myself from saying I didn't care about them, something I'd said hundreds of times before, thinking of them hiding me with their money. The hunters, or their boss, must have found them and burned them after. They could have been nice like Sophia. Caring parents with souls. "I don't remember meeting them, I should say."

"Still. Must suck growing up at an orphanage." He flashed me a genuine smile that made me feel like he understood why I'd been such a mess last night. I smiled back. It felt like we had a full conversation in that moment.

He lifted another dripping spoonful of cereal to his mouth. A drop of milk stayed on his lip for a second. Then he cleared it with his teeth.

Last night, I gave him a belly rub, and this morning, as the sun gleaned on his creamy skin that covered thoroughly exercised muscles, I found him... attractive. More than the handsome I noticed on first glance, like I could feel the effect of it now that I was alive.

I wanted to know Sienna's number to call and report that I was officially not a lesbian. In that same moment, I knew exactly how to reach the phone with the pink and purple sparkly case. 203-939-

"Is there something on my face?" Nathan asked.

Oh, God. He'd caught me staring at him. No, at his lips. "No. Um. Sorry. I spaced out."

"Oh."

That murdered every ounce of confidence I had, but before the silence turned awkward, Emma waddled into the kitchen with her head in her hands.

"Fun night?" Nathan asked. She groaned. "Did your spell work to get you guys there?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure how we got home."

"Me, sweetheart," Paul said, walking into the kitchen, wearing the same thing he'd had on yesterday.

"Why didn't you take my shoes off? I have Bourbon Street smut all over my bed," Emma said. Paul laughed and bumped Emma with his hip. She staggered a few steps to the left. "It's okay. I won the bet, so you're doing my laundry today."

Instead of wondering about the bet and sitting there like a silent creep, I asked, "What did you guys bet on?" My voice shook, but I wanted to high-five myself for getting the question out.

"That she wouldn't take this guy's drumsticks and beat on his bucket. It was hilarious," Paul said.

They laughed, Nathan joined them, and I... blinked. It was going to take more than a game of fetch to drag that out of me.

"Was that before or after Remi almost mauled that guy?" Emma asked.

They both shook their heads.

"What happened?" Nathan asked.

"This guy bumped into her, like barely a nudge, and she brought the claws out. Literally," Emma said. "He didn't see, but it still freaked us out. She doesn't think. She just acts, and she's always mad about something."

I was more like Remi than the happy teenagers in the kitchen. That gave me another reason to change. I didn't want to be anything like the grumpy panther who growled at me and called me an idiot for paying Sophia.

Sophia had instructed Paul and Emma to practice spells after chores. Nathan's job was to help Remi stay herself longer. Witch with wizard, shifter with shifter. And I, the make believe human, was ordered to do schoolwork.

My phone beeped during my third hour of distraction-free school. A text message from a 504 number.

It said, Hi.

I replied, Who is this?

Nathan. Got your number from Emma. What are you doing?

The smile was instant, no struggle at all. I saved his number while I thought of a response. I only came up with, Physics. You?

About to get killed by a panther. She hates me.

Me, too, I think.

I stared at the phone for five minutes, waiting on a reply, actually anxious to talk to someone. To him.

Sorry. She just took a swipe at me. Can you hear us up there?

I didn't know if I should wait five minutes to respond or not. I didn't want to seem too eager. I checked the answer to the last problem with the solutions in the back of the book. I felt silly for waiting after a minute and typed: Nope. It seemed friendlier than no.

So... they're going out again tonight. You want to hang out here?

My heart pounded like I was running. I smiled because I was feeling again.

Yes, I replied.

Cool, see you later if Remi doesn't kill me.

I stared at the phone for a minute, shocked and excited for tonight, before going back to Physics. I understood it better in the quiet room. I wished I'd been homeschooled all along.

At lunch, I walked down to the kitchen, hearing the laughter before I made it there. The patio door was cracked open. The noise was coming from somewhere outside—music and squealing and splashing. They were at the pool. I made a bowl of cereal, then another when my stomach wasn't satisfied, an ache I usually ignored. I grabbed an orange out of the fruit bowl and peeled it on the way back to my room. I wasn't ready for that kind of social interaction—one in a bathing suit.

In my room, I flipped through the channels with my left hand, my right to my nose. As the scent of the orange faded, depression found where I'd been hiding today, so suddenly I couldn't think of anything to do from the article. I dropped the remote and curled up on the sofa, spiraling deeper as the minutes passed. My body felt tired and disturbingly normal. Like the girl who'd played with and talked to Nathan was the weird one.

The least I could do was not cry and turn into a blubbering mess again. So I closed my eyes and escaped to sleep with a shred of dignity.

Sophia shook me out of my coma. The flickering colors from the TV were the only lights on in the room.

"I have an idea," she said when I finally sat up. "It's time for dinner, and I think it would be a great idea for you to cook for us tonight."

"No. Absolutely not. No way," I said. "I thought you understood, Sophia."

"I went to bed last night regretting letting you eat up here alone. Please do this. You'll see it's not so bad," she said, in her sweet old lady voice.

"I don't cook, and I don't know any spells for that."

"You don't need one. It's soup. You'll throw things in a pot and serve it. Some of the best conversations I've ever had over dinner were about how I prepared the meal. I think it's a wonderful idea."

"I don't."

She held my face in her hands, her enchanting eyes digging into mine. She kissed me lightly on my cheek. "You can't eat alone forever. You will thank me for this one day. I've seen it," she said. I groaned and let her drag me downstairs.

"Why can't you just make dinner appear?" I whined.

She kissed my hand before dropping it. "Most of us cook every day, you know? With stoves and pots. It's a pastime, and the house smells like food. Like a good time with friends and family."

She stared at me like she was waiting for me to disagree or say something about Satan or monsters. And because she was right about my problems having nothing to do with magic, and because I was on my way to fixing them, I smiled at her. She hugged me like I'd done something spectacular, like solving world hunger.

She pulled out the ingredients I would need to throw into the pot and hovered over me as I followed her recipe. The actual preparing of the meal wasn't terrible. Sophia made me review what I'd learned today as the vegetable soup simmered. She pointed out several discrepancies in my world history readings—things humans took credit for or embellished.

As I ladled soup in six glass bowls, I started to hyperventilate. I carried two at a time in my shaking hands to the dining room. Sophia told them she'd asked me to make dinner, leaving out the reason being to help me overcome a fear.

"Thank you, dear," she said when I brought out the last two bowls. I sat next to Emma and across from Nathan. He smiled when I looked up from my bowl. For a moment, I forgot to be nervous. "Christine, tell us how you prepared this."

I liked hearing that name. Christine sounded like a different person, a person I wanted to be. The opposite of Leah.

"I cut up some stuff and it turned to soup eventually," I said.

I held my breath as spoons lifted around the table, all but mine.

"It's wonderful! Best soup I've ever had," Sophia said, clearly exaggerating.

Paul raised his water glass to me. "Tastes just like Nana's soup," he said. Emma nodded in agreement.

"Was hair a part of the recipe?" Remi asked, pulling a strand from her bowl. Emma coughed a little, the rest of them were silent. Remi held it up to the light. The hair wasn't curly. Wasn't mine. "I'm not eating this."

I glanced at Sophia as she glared at Remi. Her plan to make dinner a more pleasant experience for me was crumbling under the weight of the stray hair.

"Maybe Sophia could make us something else," I said.

"Nonsense," Sophia said. "One piece of hair does not ruin a dinner. Remi can feed herself if she has a problem."

"Since when is scarfing down someone else's hair not a problem? How is this better than living on the streets and eating out of the trash?"

"Enough!" Sophia said.

"May I be excused?" I asked. She nodded, and I escaped to the kitchen, embarrassed and hating the panther already. "It was a stupid idea," I whispered. "Not a big deal."

Far worse things had happened to me. A hundred awful and embarrassing moments came to mind in an instant, one involving soup. I trembled, remembering the hot liquid sliding down my back and how my fingers had curled against the lunch table like the demon I'd convinced myself I was.

"That's the past. Long gone," I whispered, shaking out of the memory.

I lifted the pot from the stove and carried it to the sink to dump it.

"Wait," Nathan said. "What if I want seconds?" I shook my head and tilted the pot into the sink. The reddish-orange liquid slushed to the side, stirring carrots and bits of corn. "Seriously. I want another bowl," he said, right behind me now. I jumped, and he steadied the pot.

"You were just—"

"In the doorway?" he finished. I nodded. "I forgot. You're used to being around humans. I'm a fast runner." He chuckled and carried the pot back to the stove. "And... you're a chef."

"No, Sophia wanted me to be more social. Problem is... well," I said, gesturing around my head like depression was visible there.

"I'm sorry. I don't speak mime," he said, chuckling.

"Uh... I mean... I'm sure you've noticed that I'm weird and not very... friendly."

"I actually thought we had a lot in common. Are you saying that I'm weird and not very friendly?"

"No." I sighed. "It's just that..." I lost my words again and flailed my arms in the air, frustrated with myself.

"Obviously, I'm going to have to learn to speak mime if this friendship is going to work."

My heart fluttered like it had this morning and again when he'd texted me. Like I was alive and the wall I'd felt with every other person I'd ever met didn't exist with him. He joined a category that only Mr. Crusty had been in before—I wanted to be his friend. I smiled. "This friendship?" I clarified.

He nodded and dipped a spoon into the pot. "It's kind of a rule with us dogs. Belly rubs equal instant friendship." He held out the spoon to me. "And friends don't let friends not eat their own food."

"It had a hair in it. I'll just eat tomorrow." He shook his head and beckoned me to come with his finger. I smiled at the ground on my way to him. I took the spoon and tasted the meal I'd made. "Not bad."

"Remi's a jerk," he said. "I wanted to say something, but... I just met you. I thought that would be weird." He smirked, and my lips mimicked his after a moment. "I know what we could do to avoid that weirdness if it happened again. We need to seal our friendship. Make it official." He raised one eyebrow and curled his fingers like they were claws. "I have to give you a belly rub. It's the only way."

"Uh... I'm not a dog."

"You gave me one, I give you one." He stepped closer, and I ran from him like I'd done last night. He chased me through the kitchen, around the island and back again. He laughed, an enchanting sound, as I dodged his hands and ducked under his arms. Amidst his deep chuckle was another, softer sound. I didn't realize it was coming from me until Sophia popped into the kitchen with her hands glued to her cheeks.

"Oh, sweetie. You have the laugh of a thousand angels. Sweet and beautiful," she said. Nathan chuckled, then stopped with a cough, like it had taken him a moment to realize she was serious.

Nathan smiled at me from across the island. I smiled back at my new friend. I didn't know why he wanted to be, but I was happy he was. I thought I would live my life—however short it turned out to be—without one. And without laughing, too. I liked laughing, so I did it again when Nathan poked his tongue out at me.

Sophia blew me yet another kiss and motioned us to follow her back into the dining room.

I ran to the stove to refill my bowl first. I'd thought Nathan had followed Sophia out until he popped up next to me and patted my stomach twice. "Got you," he said, chuckling.

I laughed and steadied the bowl, stopping it from plummeting into the soup. His hand was strangely warm; it reminded me of bathwater when it's perfect. Comfortably hot, not scalding. I felt the imprint of his hand long after he'd moved it. Other than the heat, nothing came from his touch. I guessed he wasn't on the magical wavelength granting me access to thoughts or the other random information in the air.

"Then it's official," I said. "We're friends."

"Looks like it."

My friend and I went back into the dining room. Sophia was alone at the table. Emma and Paul's bowls were mostly empty. Remi's full.

"They were in a hurry to get upstairs. They said they had long days," Sophia said.

Long days probably meant they were getting dressed to go out. If she could be lied to, she must not be able to hear their thoughts without touching them either.

"So... I'm waiting, dear," she said, tilting her chin up at me. "I usually make my children admit that I am never wrong. With you, I'll accept a simple thank you."

I sighed. "Okay... thank you, Sophia," I said.

"And I should expect you at every meal from now on?"

"Yep, from now on," Nathan answered for me.

Sophia apologized for Remi several times as we finished dinner. After, she put Nathan on dish duty, to be done by hand like she preferred it, and went to bed. A door slammed on the first floor where her room must be.

I volunteered to help Nathan with the dishes. He washed and I rinsed and stacked.

"I don't think it's you," he said, breaking a trance a floating bubble had raptured me in. "Remi... she's rude because she hates herself and everything about being a panther. I tried to tell her what you said, about forming her own opinion, but she flipped me off."

"I'm sorry," I said, apologizing for her and people like us, miserable people.

"Don't worry about it... uh." He cleared his throat. "Which name do want me to call you?" I hunched my shoulders. "Pick one. Which do you like the most?"

I sighed and admitted to myself that I'd like the sound of Christine in his voice. "Leah is what the nuns named me at school. My real name is Christine," I said.

"Cool. So why do you want to be human, Christine?" he asked, handing me another soapy dish. I hunched my shoulders again. The answer was too complicated. "Are you going back to school soon?"

"No. Never."

He felt around in the water and pulled out the stopper when he didn't find another dish. I shivered. A familiar feeling rushed over my skin, like someone was watching me. The hairs on my arm stood. I looked behind me, expecting to see Sophia. Maybe she was watching us from her room, magically.

"Did it suck?" he asked, pulling me back into the kitchen. "School with humans?"

"Yeah. My parents really set me up with that one." He um-hummed and shook his wet hands in my face. I laughed again. It was as surprising as it was before. "I didn't fit in at all."

"No friends?" I shook my head. "Boyfriends?" I shook harder. "That's... good then. You didn't break the treaty. I've technically made contact with a few humans. My parents, the mailman, and I helped the cable guy install a satellite if that counts."

I wiped the counter tops as he threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. I finally worked up the nerve to ask, "So... no friends and girlfriends?"

He laughed. "Nope. So I'm not at risk of..." He slid his thumb across his neck and stuck his tongue out. I shivered. I didn't know the No Contact clause was that serious. Beheading serious.

"You mentioned having human parents a few times. How is that possible?" I asked as we headed into the second phase of our night—popcorn and TV.

"I think they brought the wrong kid home from the hospital, and I think they've always known it."

We plopped down on the same sofa, the bowl of popcorn between us.

"Why?" I asked.

"I thought they were my parents until I suddenly had a tail. After that, stuff made sense. Like how they didn't want to be called Mom and Dad. I've always called them John and Theresa. For a solid year, I didn't call them anything at all. They didn't notice. So I don't think of myself as having parents or family. I'm just... sort of floating around on my own."

"Me, too," I said.

He held his fist in front of my face. I stared at it, and he chuckled. "You're supposed to do it back." I made a fist and held it in the open space between us. He shook his head, laughing harder, and bumped his fist against mine. I rolled my eyes at myself. I'd seen the gesture, I should've figured that out. He didn't make me feel weird about it, though. "So what did you do all day if you didn't have friends?" he asked.

"Hide," I said, too fast to soften, darkening the mood in the living room.

After a long minute, he sighed and said, "Yeah... me, too, I guess. John and Theresa are really quiet people. They like a silent house, so I sat in my room all day in front of the TV and tried to make as little noise as possible. Or I'd go outside and play by myself. We didn't have kids on my street until I was too old to play with the ones who moved in. Theresa homeschooled me, but we didn't talk much outside of that. John and I didn't talk at all."

He paused, stuffing his mouth with too much popcorn to talk through. Maybe so he didn't have to talk about his family anymore. I understood why he hadn't had friends or girlfriends now. He hadn't had anyone around. We didn't have the same problem. If he'd gone to St. Matthew, he'd probably be the most popular boy there. He was handsome and funny. He'd probably date Sienna or one of her birds.

"When I left," he said, his tone harsher than before. "They were both home. I just walked right out of the front door. I haven't been reported missing, and that was eleven months ago."

I imagined little Nathan in his room, a stunning and lonely green-eyed boy, and my heart throbbed. I knew what that felt like. I knew how loud silence could be. I imagined the moment he left his home unnoticed, only to end up more alone and eventually captured by a hunter.

"I'm really sorry you had to live like that," I said, pouting and overwhelmed by how much I'd meant that.

He surprised me by throwing a handful of popcorn at me.

"Don't feel sorry for me. I'm happier now." His smile helped me to hold back the pity he didn't want. He turned on the television. I rolled my eyes when he dropped the remote when that awful yearbook picture flashed across the screen. "You know... that's exactly the face I'd make if I were pretending to be human. You're good. You don't look like you're hiding anything at all."

He laughed. It took me a moment to decode the sarcasm and get the joke, but when I did, I smiled and threw a handful of popcorn at his head. Imitating him to generate a normal reaction to teasing. It was way less stressful than plotting his death; I didn't have to hate myself after.

"Suspicion surrounding the disappearance of Leah Grant continues to grow," said Ken, the reporter I'd seen yesterday. "Tonight, all eyes are on St. Catalina. Is this elite orphanage a home for the helpless or the privileged?"

"What?" I said, sitting up on the sofa. Nathan turned up the volume.

"During the dark times, many families brought their children to safe havens while they prepared for the worst," Ken said. The screen changed to a picture of my old home, and Nathan whistled like he was impressed with it.

"This place was reportedly the safest in the area with the least amount of deaths, but what orphanage do you know of with twenty-three registered student organizations, state of the art science labs, and homecoming dances?" Ken asked. "It operates like a preparatory academy, sending ninety-eight percent of its graduates to college. They don't even like to be referred to as an orphanage."

"That true?" Nathan asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess. Never really thought about it." And I hadn't, until now. I had a lot of shirts with the St. Catalina crest on it, and nowhere on it did it say orphanage. It said boarding school.

"Get this," Ken continued in a smug tone. "They even have a cheer squad that roots for the championship lacrosse team from the equally exclusive male orphanage next door." Nathan laughed. I guessed all orphanages didn't have that. "Sources tell us that some residents even have private rooms. Leah Grant was one of them. We have also received reports that the school turned away several families during the war. Our sources tell us that both St. Catalina and St. Matthew only accepted children of the highest caliber. Children of deceased celebrities, politicians, and wealthy businessmen and women. With this sort of exclusivity, one is left to wonder if Leah was a target. Possibly for ransom."

I groaned. That was sort of true. I was rich and Sophia had come for money. For me, too, but she needed help to save my roommates.

"School officials are denying claims of being selective, stating that they didn't know the identities of the children until more than eight years after the death of Fredrick Dreco," Ken said. "And as of this time, we have not received any reports of illicit substances found on campus, but stories are beginning to change, with some seeing a woman, some seeing just light, and some saying the gates are usually unlocked so boyfriends can sneak in after hours. This leads us to explore options beyond the original assumption, the most probable being that Leah Grant's human kidnapper will be requesting money soon."

Nathan chuckled. "Sophia's a kidnapper armed with freshly baked muffins. We're all going to die." He faked a horrified scream, threw his hand over his forehead, and fell to the floor.

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Watching the coverage of my disappearance with Nathan was fun. Ken even found a machine that could produce Sophia's light. The world now thought a money hungry human, or possibly a serial killer with visual effects, was behind it. I was glad I was less crazy now and could see how funny this was. We debated on whether Ken's hair was real or not, having a wonderful time, until he mentioned Lydia Shaw.

Nathan shuddered hard.

"She's so scary," I said. "I don't even know what it is about her."

"Uh... could it be that she's freaking Lydia Shaw?"

"I know that, but she's human. I've been afraid of her for years, but when I think about it, that makes no sense. If I wanted to, I could go to my room in a second. Faster than that, really. Or my school. I could go back to my dorm room right now if I wanted to. Why would I be afraid of a human?"

His eyebrows pulled together, and he stared at me without blinking. "You've totally never met one of them," he said. "Lydia Shaw and her agents are way more than human. Hunters, too."

I turned to face him completely, my feet on the sofa, my jaw in my lap. "What do you mean?" I whispered.

"They have powers, a lot of them. We are not stronger than them. They don't need spells or potions or candles, so they're way faster than you. And they don't need strength like me. And it doesn't matter that I can run fast, either."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"I've seen it, been a victim to it. That's how they detain us. They're stronger and faster and... just better. Most of them aren't that mean, though."

"Most?"

"I've only been caught twice. First by this brother-sister pair. They actually let me go when no one came for me, and the second guy let Sophia buy us. But all of them aren't so understanding. There are the ones who pin some sort of crime on you and turn you in to an agent, maybe even Lydia Shaw or someone high up like that. And then there are the bad ones. The ones who..." He shivered, and his handsome face sank. "Let's talk about something else. This is supposed to be fun."

Ken's hair wasn't as funny as it was before. I was lost in the idea of the hunters and agents—the people looking for me—being superhuman. That's how they'd done it, won the war, tamed our kind. Technology wasn't the great equalizer like Sophia thought. It was whatever these powers were. Lydia Shaw was ten times more terrifying now.

Nathan and I said goodnight on the stairs that separated our floors a little after midnight. The one-arm hug lasted exactly three seconds. Easily the best three seconds of my life. So great that it never had to happen again. Having this impossible friend was good enough. He never had to like me in any other way.

"Christine," he called from the floor below me. I went down to see him. "I just wanted to say that I've never talked to someone this much. You're my first real friend." Caring about someone was new and odd. I frowned because I didn't know what else to do. "Just in case I'm being weird or lame. Or laughing too much. It's just that I went seventeen years without friends. I'm new to this."

I didn't know how old he was until then. He looked older than seventeen. It was the muscles, I guessed.

"You're my first friend, too. And I won't notice you being weird because I'm... pretty strange myself." He laughed and waved. I stood there until his door snicked shut. "Goodnight," I whispered, too late.

His door cracked open, and I paused on the stairs. "Goodnight," he said, hearing me with keen ears.

# Chapter Six

Something touched my arm and woke me up. It was cold, like frozen fingers. I figured I'd imagined it and turned over. Then the icy bones brushed my ear. I popped up in bed, seeing nothing in the dark room.

I tucked my head under the comforter. It met me under there, touching and freezing my cheek. I jumped out of bed and turned on every light in my room.

It was four in the morning, and I was clearly losing my mind.

"I can't be depressed and psychotic," I said.

I convinced myself that I only needed a glass of water and a few more hours of sleep to be sane again and to stop imagining things.

But I didn't imagine the argument floating up the stairs. It grew louder as I rounded the second floor.

"I had no choice," Emma said.

"There is always a choice!" Sophia yelled. "Show me your hands." I kept moving to where I could see them and crouched down in the corner. Sophia inspected Emma's palms intently. She traced the lines there, shaking her head. "Remi is just another Edith. All this partying. I told you I didn't like her. She's trouble, just like your sister."

"She's not like Edith! She's not making me do anything. The guy was following her. I think he was a hunter. I didn't want to lead him here."

Then I was glad she did whatever she'd done to stop him. If he'd followed her, he could've found me and turned me over to the woman who'd bring me back to hell... in the event she didn't learn the truth about me.

"That is not an excuse to use magic in public, which you have done far too many times." Emma mumbled an apology as she cried. "I love you, you know that, but I can't allow you to do things like this. I won't let you turn into your sister. She refused to listen, and that got her killed. I won't be able to handle that with you. Tell me everything about tonight."

"We told you. Remi got into an argument, and the guy wouldn't let it go. We... handled it in case he was pressing her buttons on purpose." Sophia groaned and whispered something in another language, I'd guess Spanish. Emma shook in her arms, struggling to free herself. The lights shut off, and the living room filled with hundreds of votive candles, casting shadows everywhere. "Please. I'm sorry," Emma said. "Wait, Sophie!"

Sophia pushed Emma from her arms and gasped.

"You blinded him and left him there! Suppose he reports that!"

"Remi was shifting in front of him," Emma cried. "I had to! Don't kick us out. Please. It was just me. Not Paul or Remi. They didn't know what I was doing."

"This is not the Emma I know. You are not hateful!" Sophia's voice was angry, disappointed, nothing like when she'd told me that after stopping me from killing Sienna and Whitney.

"I won't ever do it again. I swear," she cried. "I'm sorry."

"I can intercept a report if there is one, but you have to be the one to restore his sight," Sophia said. "And it will require your blood." Sophia snapped her fingers, and a knife appeared in her other hand.

I stifled the gasp in my throat. I wanted to run now, to hide from the magic and the blood and the eerie glow of the candles. Sophia had never looked more like a witch than she did now. Like the kind of witch I'd always thought I was. The kind of witch she'd said didn't exist.

Sophia led Emma to the middle of the living room and positioned candles in a circle around her. Emma kneeled in the circle, drying her face, and her cry simmered to a whimper.

"First, you must cleanse," Sophia said. "Take the darkness out of your heart. Confess what you have done and pledge to live in the light."

Emma held her hands over the candle in front of her, hovering just above the flame. Her whispers were fast and in French. She looked like she was praying.

The candles blew out all at once. I jumped but made no noise in my chilly hiding spot.

"You have been heard," Sophia said. The candles ignited again. Sophia gave the knife to Emma. "For the man this child has harmed tonight, she offers this, her blood, as penance for his sight."

Emma slid the knife over her palm, gasping and wincing, sobbing now. She let her blood drip over the candle. As it hit, a purple, misty vine erupted from it. It danced around her circle, engulfing the flames.

I'd never seen it before, our blood's reaction over fire, but I'd feared it with everything in me. It wasn't a myth, not something else the nuns exaggerated. I brought my hand to my chest, feeling my heart trying to escape.

Sophia whispered the same healing spell she'd used on my knee into Emma's hand. She pulled the weeping girl from her circle and wrapped her arms around her.

"Never again, Emma," she said. "Next time, I will have no choice but to ask you and your friend to leave." Something close to a thank you came out with Emma's sobs. "I've warned all of you." Sophia's voice shook and she paused, rubbing Emma's back. "If you bring attention to Christine, you will no longer have my protection. I will have no choice. There will be nothing I can do to save any of you if she is hurt."

Hurt? And what did this have to do with me?

They disappeared into the kitchen, and the temperature rose in my corner. I had to be imagining the unnaturally cold touches. More evidence of my mental instability. I went upstairs without the water, avoiding the magic and Sophia and the obvious fact that she wasn't being completely honest with me.

A flick of a lighter made me shake and pause on my stairs. The glow lit Remi's face at my door. She clicked it off, then on again. She was smiling now. "Enjoy the show?" she whispered, so low I had to strain to hear her. I hunched my shoulders as if she could see me. I hadn't been alone with her as a person, but she didn't have any noise around her either. I wished, for a moment, that Sophia didn't think I hated magic so I could ask how this worked. Why couldn't I hear them? And how did I pull random information out of the air like Sienna's phone number? And why did she need a room full of candles to get the truth out of Emma? Why not just read her mind?

At my door, I stepped around Remi and her lighter. She didn't budge. Choosing to ignore how incredibly creepy she was being, I walked into my room and turned to shut the door.

She stopped it with her foot and jumped back like it had hurt. She grunted and shoved the lighter in my face, bringing her nose to mine.

"I'm only going to say this once," she whispered. "Nathan is mine. And believe me, I will fight you for him. You won't stand a chance, especially since you don't use magic."

She snarled, closed her lighter, and prowled away like nothing had happened. And I stood there in my doorway, freezing cold, wondering if I'd ever woken up in the first place.

After I tossed and turned in my bed for an hour, I convinced myself that I hadn't dreamed that. Sophia had really yelled at Emma. Her blood had really fogged the living room with purple smoke, and Remi had really threatened to fight me over Nathan.

Before yesterday, I would've wanted to burn her alive for that stunt. And as I recalled that insane moment at my door, a part of me wanted to run down to her room and react the way I should've—not mute and restrained. I should've at least told her to get the hell out of my face.

And I wondered what Sophia meant about me getting hurt. By Lydia Shaw? Her hunters? And then there was the way that Sophia had treated Emma for doing something less evil than what I had planned for Sienna and Whitney. She hadn't asked me to cleanse. And as I lay there, the idea of washing my soul clean of all the things that had happened at St. Catalina took over me until I couldn't think of anything else.

I was still awake when the sun crept through my curtains and Sophia came in to clean. "Good morning, love," she said. My eyes were open and fixed on the swirling pattern etched in the bedpost.

She sighed, taking in my mood. "What is it?" she asked. "Bad night?" I nodded.

She sat on the bed next to my legs, patting my knee; it felt like a gentle order to talk.

"I heard you with Emma this morning. I saw the cleansing. I heard you threaten her," I said, barely whispering.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, love. Some things require more intense rituals. I know what you think about magic, and I'm sure that didn't help."

"It wasn't that, Sophia. It was the other thing. The thing you said about me. About putting Emma out if she called attention to me." She brought her hand to my cheek and sighed. "You made it seem like I could get hurt from that."

"Honey, I'm sorry you heard that." She stared at me for a long minute, rubbing my face.

"What aren't you telling me? Is it because of what I almost did? Would I be in danger of... like... getting my head cut off by a hunter or something?"

"Oh, no, sweetie," she crooned. "By hurt I meant... upset in any way. I promised you that you would have peace here. I don't want you worrying about their problems. Emma has issues to deal with. Paul is spoiled and doesn't think. And I don't even know what to say about Remi. I want you to be happy, and I worry they will ruin it."

Oh. I closed my eyes. I'd missed the obvious reason.

She didn't want me to be upset. She knew what I was like when I was angry. Murderous.

She wanted to protect them from me.

"Sophia," I said, sitting up in a hurry, ready to spill what I'd ruminated about for hours. "Can you do the cleansing with me? The candles and all of it? Just like you told Emma, I need to live in the light."

She grabbed my hand and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. I took a deep breath, ready to do magic on purpose. The creepy, intense magic I'd witnessed earlier. She surprised me by chuckling.

"You do not need to cleanse. You haven't done anything wrong in your entire life," she said.

"What are you talking about? You saw. That's why you came."

She chuckled again. "You almost did something. You don't have an ounce of darkness in your heart, angel. Your challenge is cheering up. My challenge is making sure that happens. Nothing more." She pulled at my arms until my head was on the pillow. I felt like a toddler. I wasn't tired until then. "Just sleep, sweetheart. No more talk about cleansing or magic."

My eyes fluttered before I could protest.

I slept past noon, but I wasn't any more rested than I had been before. I wanted to believe Sophia knew me better than I knew myself, but apparently, she couldn't hear my mind like I couldn't hear hers. She didn't know how close I'd come before that moment after the fire alarm. The many times I'd wanted to kill, actually planned it.

She'd missed those sins.

She wouldn't help me cleanse, but I hadn't needed her help to do any of the magic I'd done before. I could try it on my own.

She called at one, asking if I'd gotten out of bed and if I'd eaten. I lied about both. I felt bad about it after, and I went downstairs to make a sandwich.

Remi was sitting on the counter, her back to the door, with her phone to her ear. "I know," she said. "It's Sophia. She always knows where they are because she tells Emma to stay away. Before we moved here, she'd call a few times a week to tell her where not to party. It's going to be harder to get Emma to disobey her now, but friends come and go." She chuckled and turned around. She smiled and winked her ice-blue eye at me. "I have a new friend. He's much better looking and doesn't have an annoying accent. I'll call you back."

I walked into the kitchen like I hadn't been eavesdropping. I made my sandwich in silence. I could feel her eyes on me. She didn't mention last night, and I really wanted to forget about it, so I definitely wasn't bringing it up.

"Hi, Nathan," Remi said. I hadn't heard him come in. He waved to her.

"Hey, sleepy head," he said to me. "Did I keep you up too late?" I shook my head, smiling already. "I had to do yard work today. It was fun. You missed it."

He pointed at the bread, and I slid it to him. He held out his hand. Assuming he wanted the peanut butter I'd left open, I pushed the jar to him, and he smiled; I'd guessed right.

"You really did miss out on a treat. He was shirtless and flaunting his sexy abs," Remi said. I hummed awkwardly, like my tongue had deleted what was sure to be something embarrassing and had only left the sound. Nathan laughed and hummed too, copying me and making the moment less awkward.

"Did that bother you, Leah? Me talking about Nathan's body?"

I smeared jelly on my bread, still void of words. Then I realized my silence could be interpreted as a yes or a no.

"It bothered me," he said, before I could choose which one I wanted it to be.

Remi chuckled, and Nathan hunched his shoulders like he didn't get why she was laughing.

"Okay, kids. I'll leave you alone," Remi said. "Don't forget our lesson at three, hottie. Come without a shirt." Remi laughed, jumped from the counter, and left the kitchen.

"She likes you," I whispered, completely downplaying how Remi must feel about him—strong enough to threaten me.

"I doubt that. This morning, she told me she hoped I died before three so we didn't have to have a lesson." He twirled his fingers around his temples and crossed his eyes, calling her crazy. I didn't laugh or smile. I was the last person who could criticize someone's sanity.

"She said... okay, if I tell you something, will you not mention it?" I asked. He nodded on his way to the fridge. He held out a can of soda to me, asking me if I wanted it with his eyes. "Thanks. And... Remi." I cleared my throat. "She told me that you're hers."

"What? Gross!" I chewed on my lip to stop myself from smiling and showing how pleased I was that he didn't agree with her. "She called me a mutt about fifty times yesterday, told me I was a jackass to like being a shifter, and suggested that I should play in traffic. I'm not her anything."

He nodded towards the door with the sodas in his hand. I grabbed our plates, loving that my friend wasn't Remi's anything, in his mind anyway.

We took our lunch by the pool. I tried not to watch him as we ate, but that was impossible. He was unnecessarily beautiful. He could get a girl with his muscles or how nice he was, but no... he had to have a flawless face as well. Complete overkill.

"Why isn't your fur black like your hair?" I asked, when he caught me staring. I'd really been looking at the sharp lines of his jaw, not thinking about his fur at all.

He mumbled something with his mouth full that I couldn't understand, then swallowed.

"At first, I thought it was because of my skin, but I don't really know. It's the first thing that changes when I shift. I can do it for you... like just change my hair." My eyes widened, excited. He smiled and bowed his head. His shoulders shook slightly and his hair turned as white as Sophia's. He tousled his white locks with his hands, looking enchanting and slightly goofy. I squealed as the white drained from his hair, leaving it black again, amazed at his magic but still afraid of mine.

"That's really cool. And that, too," I said, pointing at his toes. It decided to actually be winter in New Orleans today, but he was barefoot and not shivering like me. "You're not cold?" I asked.

"It has to be snowing for me to be cold. Blizzard style. That came in handy as a homeless guy." I huffed and pouted. I'd thought my life was hard. At least I'd always had a roof over my head. "Christine, I am going to push you in the pool if you don't stop pitying me."

"I'm sorry, but you're my friend. I can't help that I care about you." I wanted to push myself in after I realized what I'd said. "I'm sorry. That was so creepy. I just met you. I have zero social skills."

He chuckled and snatched the last piece of PB&J from my plate. He tossed it in his mouth and winked at me. "Who needs social skills?" I laughed. He really had a way of making me feel comfortable and normal. "And I care about you, too. That's why I don't want you to be sad because of me. No more pity?"

"No more pity," I agreed.

We sat in silence for a while. It wasn't weird. His eyes were on the pool, but his mind seemed to have floated somewhere else. I was wrapped up in how different lunch was from a few days ago. I wasn't alone, wasn't hiding from Sienna or crosses. Or suffocating in the silence of the courtyard.

My teeth chattered, and he stood on his bare feet and reached for my hand. As he pulled me up, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy the feel of his warm, soft skin for the quickest moment. I was tempted to follow him around all day so I didn't have to think about the cleansing, but I had work to do and he had a nap to take.

"Later, Chris."

"Chris?" I said, halfway up my stairs.

"Just something I'm trying out," he said, chuckling.

I smiled big, glad he couldn't see me. "Okay... Nate."

"I like that," he said, just before I heard his door close.

His face and my new nickname distracted me as I did my mandatory schoolwork. Most of what I read during the four hours would have to be redone tomorrow.

"Tomorrow," I whispered with hope. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, feeling the dull ache in my muscles that had always been there, a pain I'd thought I deserved to have, a trait I'd thought I couldn't change. "Things will be easier. I'll live in the light with my friend."

I didn't know why I was shivering. It was only words over candles, a pledge to be better. Like the millions of prayers I'd sent up to heaven. But I wanted to do something more, in case magic was out of His jurisdiction.

The only kink in my plan would be if Sophia popped in and tried to convince me that I didn't need to cleanse. So I called her so I'd know when to expect her home.

The phone rang three times then noise cut in from the other end—laughing and music.

"Hey. It's Paul," he said.

"Oh. Is Sophia here?"

The music flared in my ear, so loud I should've heard it from my room. "Uh... no. We're at my parents' house. My brother is having a thing. Hold on, I'll get Nana for you." Paul must have walked through a crowd. He stopped and greeted several people who thought he should cut his hair. Then I heard Sophia's laugh, a graceful sound despite the phlegm, and what sounded like something sizzling on a stove. "Phone. It's the only number you told me to answer."

The only number she wanted to answer was mine? Strange.

"Hello, dear-heart," she sang, the phone ruffling against something, maybe her head.

"I didn't mean to interrupt. I thought you were at work," I said.

"No, love. My grandson made partner and he asked me to make his celebratory dinner."

I waited until the laughter died down in the background to speak. "Partner?"

"At his firm. He's a lawyer." A wizard lawyer? God did I have the wrong idea about life. Someone snatched Sophia's attention from me. She instructed them on how to measure the perfect rice to water ratio with the lines on their finger. "Sweetheart, you there?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to know when you were coming home. No rush."

Please, don't rush.

"I'll be there soon. I'm only starting the meal and his mother can finish. I would have invited you, but ... you understand, don't you?" I um-hummed, completely understanding. A family gathering wasn't the best place for her kidnapping victim. "I'll be there to make you dinner. I was thinking meatloaf."

"You're missing the party?"

One of her daughters yelled, "Mom, Dad wants a cupcake."

"Tell him the cupcakes just—sweetie, one moment—Amelia, tell him the cupcakes just came out of the oven, and he'll have to wait. Sweetie, still there?"

Before I could answer, Amelia asked her another string of questions. It seemed liked her husband was back from being "away" like she'd told me. Maybe I'd be meeting him soon.

"That must be Emma," her daughter, or another woman demanding her attention, said. "You have on your Emma voice."

"Emma is here, Amelia. This is another of my friends. Paul! Paul! Go find where Emma's hiding. See if she's in a better mood." And that was my cue. The house was empty of at least the three of them and could be for a while. And the hair on my arms rested flat against my skin.

"Sophia, I can get my own dinner. I'll eat and go right to bed anyway. Please stay there. Will you? I don't want to pull you away from your family."

It wasn't a total lie. It took another minute and some really convincing yawns to persuade her to stay at the party. Which shouldn't have been a hard decision, considering it was for her grandson and she'd only met me a few days ago.

Did giving her ten thousand dollars make me the queen of the universe? Or was Sophia just nice? Maybe she just liked me. But I didn't like me very much, and I was about to fix that.

I checked the locks on my door and filled my arms with the ten candles by my bed.

I placed them in a circle on the wood floor in the sitting room. I sat in the center like Emma had. I didn't bother looking for matches or trying a spell. I imagined fire moving around me, igniting the wicks, and it did. It swirled around the circle, catching on each candle, before fizzling out.

"Um... I want to take the darkness from my heart and pledge to live in the light," I whispered, feeling odd.

I held my hands over the two closest candles, close enough to feel the warmth of the flame. I imagined Emma had thought about what she'd done to the hunter at this point, so I dredged up my sins to confess them, starting with the worst of them.

"I want to be cleansed for every time I've wanted to kill Sienna Martin. Burn her hair, break her bones. Whitney, too." I paused, thinking of a particularly shameful one. "The time I wanted to possess Whitney and have her stab Sienna for me." My lips trembled, thinking of a darker moment. "When I wanted to barricade the gym with all the students inside and hear them being tortured."

I ran through as many evil desires as I could remember. Minor ones. Dramatic ones. Ones directed at one person. Ones intended for mass destruction. Ones intended for myself.

When I found myself apologizing for things so minor I wouldn't be too embarrassed to say out loud, I waited for the candles to shut off. To tell me I'd been heard. To tell me the darkness was gone.

Nothing happened. Minutes passed, and I was still sitting in the middle of a lit circle after confessing every stain I had on the soul I'd just learned about.

Maybe it was too much to be forgiven for. Maybe I was doing it wrong. Or maybe it required my blood like I'd seen this morning.

I didn't want to move and disturb the circle, so I opened my hand in front of me and said, "Knife." A small one, identical to the one I'd used to chop vegetables for the soup, appeared as easily as fire did.

I pressed it against my thumb. It burned, not just across my skin, everywhere. In my chest the most.

The blood dripped from the wound, warm with magic. My heart stammered in the dead silence of the room, and the stream hit the fire.

Nothing happened. Orange light just flickered on the cream candle as drops of red pooled around the wick.

Where was the purple mist? Where was the magic?

I forgot about the cleansing then. Fire was the ultimate test of magical blood. I'd seen it with my own eyes. Emma's blood had flooded her circle with purple smoke that sung of what she was. What we were.

But my blood... did nothing.

The knife shook in my hand as I cut into my middle finger, deeper this time. The blood rushed out fast and thick as I prayed for it to change the fire. Praying to be what I knew I was. What I'd thought I was.

Still nothing. No magic. I tried every candle in the circle, filling in the spaces with my blood, like a twisted game of connect the dots.

"What the—"

Knocks on my door startled me and cut me off.

"Chris," Nathan said. "It's me." I just sat there with my bleeding hand leaking on the floor. "Uh... I can come back if you're busy. I probably should've called first."

His tone struck me. He sounded wounded, like little Nathan would've in the house with his parents. His first friend should never make him feel that way. Unwanted, like a pest.

"Wait," I said. "It's um..." I looked at the gory scene around me, unable to find the words to describe it.

"Are you okay? Let me in." I blew out the candles, like that was the only weird thing happening in the room.

I opened the door. I didn't feel the knife in my hand until his eyes moved from mine to it. And my blood, my wrong, confusing blood, dripped from the knob and splattered all over the floor.

"Jesus! Are you okay?"

I just stood there, staring at my friend, feeling him slip away as he saw how insane I was. How would I say goodbye to him? With words? A bloody hug?

He stepped into my room and closed the door behind him. He looked over my shoulder and groaned.

"Chris, can I have the knife, please?" He didn't wait for me to answer. He slipped the knife out of my hand without taking his eyes from mine. "Thank you. Is your bathroom through there?" he asked, pointing to the arched doorway.

I nodded, and he took my healthy hand and walked me there. He sniffed the soap on the counter and shook his head. He did the same to the bars by the tub and in the shower as I bled into the sink.

"This one will sting the least," he said, holding up the white bar from the tub. I winced when the water hit the cuts. He did, too, holding my hands like they were fragile. Looking at me like I was too. He lathered both of my hands, blood still gushing from the second cut. "I'm going to have to squeeze this one."

"Okay," I whispered.

He held it between two fingers, testing it. The third time, no blood gurgled from the wound.

"Do you know any healing spells?" he asked.

"I don't use magic," I said. I meant, I don't think I have magic to use. His big green eyes said what his mouth didn't. It sure looks like you were using magic in there. "I was trying to recreate something I saw Sophia and Emma do this morning. It involved blood and fire."

He opened his hand and held his pinky close to my eyes. A pink scar stretched from the tip to the middle. "I was tested with a group. Colors swirled everywhere. Like a rainbow. Just a few drops of my blood filled the room with royal blue smoke."

Why didn't my blood do that? "Everyone had a color?" I asked.

"Yep. I was blue. The wolves were green. The witch was purple. They even tested the obvious ones. A bite-sized pixie fogged the whole room with yellow."

I knew what the colors meant. The nuns had taught us, for what that was worth, about each of them. I was supposed to be purple. I didn't change forms, I looked human, and I made weird things happen. Witch. The perfect example of a witch. Other than that I'd never used a spell or potion or snapped like Sophia and Emma did.

Which seemed like a monumental problem in the wake of the blood test.

"Was it so shocking that you wanted to see it twice... with a different cut?"

"Definitely shocking," I whispered, my head cloudy with what all this meant, my sanity dissolving even more. I wanted to try another finger, just not with him here.

"I can close this up for you. Warning... it's weird. I'll have to lick your hand," he said, smiling now.

It was the wrong time to let him in. I should've told him I needed a minute so I could sort through this on my own. Then he raised my hand to his mouth, and I didn't think that anymore.

He started with the little cut on my thumb with the lightest touch of his tongue against the broken skin. It burned, everywhere except the cut, in the best of ways.

"It works for me," he mumbled over my finger. "Hopefully for you, too."

He pulled my finger from his mouth, and the skin was closed, but not as precisely as Sophia would've done it. It was still red and swollen and would probably scar.

The second finger took longer. I didn't mind it. His mouth was warm, and I could feel the ridges of his perfect teeth against my skin. I had to think of how tragic this moment was to keep my finger still and my eyes off of his lips.

I could not be human. It would make me even more insane. A complete psychopath.

But I hadn't imagined having powers. Even tonight I'd willed the knife to appear. The fire to light the candles. What was I, if not a witch?

"I heard them, too," he said, dropping my hand. He pulled my toothbrush from the cup and laid it on the counter. He filled the cup with water, and I followed behind him as he splashed it on my blood trail. "Paul told me that Remi was shifting in front of a human, and they think the guy was a hunter since he'd been staring at them all night. They all have a habit of staring. He said Emma was freaking out and he wanted to get her home after she blinded him, so he did the spell without thinking and left the guy right there in the alley."

He ran back into the bathroom and came back with a towel. As he dabbed up my blood, I thought about the times I'd moved without walking. It was immediate. I'd wanted to be somewhere else, and I'd landed there. No spells. No talking. Just an accidental thought.

"Emma was trying to help... but her idea of help sort of sucked. I don't think he saw it coming." He snickered at the pun.

I finally took the towel from him when it dawned on me that he'd mostly cleaned my mess. He'd gotten most of the blood out of the carpet, but I took another pass at it.

I gathered the candles, washed them off, then tried to get as much blood out of the towel as I could. Luckily, he'd chosen a navy one for the cleanup. I rinsed the blood from the knife and buried it deep in my drawer, under my combs and brushes.

Nathan was sitting on the edge of my bed when I finished.

"From my room, it sounded like she made her do a cleansing," he said. "Why would you want to recreate that?" I glared at the damage I'd done to myself in an attempt to cleanse magic I probably didn't have. What were the chances of there being some magical blood that could pass the test? I felt very sure that the answer was zero percent. "Does it have anything to do with why Sophia took you? Did you do something?"

"Yeah, I wanted to hurt these girls at my school, but I didn't," I said. "I wanted to do the cleansing because I thought it would help me not want to do that again. Like... fix my magic." I shook my head. Magic. God, if I had magic, I would've just seen it. "I don't even know anymore, Nate." The pressure in my chest tilted me forward, and I buried my head between my knees.

He rubbed my back, warming me. If I was going to have a proper sulking session, he'd have to leave or at least stop touching me.

"It's amazing how much we have in common, besides the fact that I turn into a dog at some point during most days." He laughed, and I surprised myself by chuckling. Nothing should be funny right now. "I also had to figure myself out and get over stuff. Like what living in the house with John and Theresa was like."

I sat up, and like I'd done it every day of my life so far, I leaned against his shoulder. For him and for me. I needed to lie on something, and I wanted to erase the sadness in his voice. He lifted his arm and drew me closer into his nook. I felt so tiny next to him. I leaned into him, so confused I could scream.

"I was sort of bored downstairs. Is it cool if I stay for a while?" he asked. I nodded and forced my body away from his. He pulled me up from the bed, and I trapped the meltdown over the complete and utter collapse of everything I knew about myself inside of me, saving it for later. "We have the house to ourselves. Paul and Emma went to his parents' house, and Remi is probably somewhere drowning kittens." I laughed, the exact opposite of what I should be doing. "I came here to laugh about your little robot they're showing on the news." He chuckled, and I groaned. That was even more embarrassing than the yearbook picture. I was mortified until he put his arm around my shoulder. "We don't have to watch the news, but since you own this huge TV, we should watch something."

I corrected him on our way to the sofa, telling him that it was more of a rental, and that sparked his interest in how much I'd paid Sophia. When I told him, he gawked and mouthed, "Wow." Ten minutes into a crime show, he said, "That's right. You're a high caliber, rich orphan."

I nodded, conveniently leaving out how rich. For some reason, I was ashamed of the money. Like since he'd lived on the streets and I'd inherited millions, it would make us incompatible.

My heart sank. That might not be the only reason we were incompatible now. I couldn't be his friend if I wasn't a witch. But I had to be a witch. I had powers.

That thought spun in my head, looping and twirling, until everything stopped, like I'd run out of thread and the empty spool had the answer.

Human agents and hunters have powers. He'd told me that last night, but I couldn't be one of them without knowing it, right?

"Nate..."

"Yes?" He dragged out the word, still looking at the screen. The handsome detective was close to solving the murder, at least the music hinted at that.

"What kinds of powers do those agents and hunters have?" I asked.

He hummed like he was thinking about his answer. "They can do all sorts of things. The first time I was captured, I was in Los Angeles. I'm from there. It was raining that night, and I snuck into a fast food place on four legs and got on two in the empty kitchen. For some reason, I thought it was a great idea to take a to-go bag." He laughed and smacked his forehead. "So I'm trotting along with this bag of human food like an ass, and this woman in all black touches me. In a second, we were out of the rain and somewhere else. She didn't say a word."

I slammed my eyes shut. It sounded a lot like what I could do.

"And not just another place, a different climate. Different region. It was so hot. And she was so skinny but lifted me up with no problem."

"Wow," I said. He was huge as a dog. On his hind legs, I wasn't much taller than him. I'd say he was a wolf, but his face was less wild, and his fur looked well-groomed and clean like he belonged inside.

"Then she slapped a leash on me. I didn't see or smell the leather in her hands before. And she opened the cage but wasn't close enough to do it with her hands. She flung me inside, but I didn't feel her touching me. It was... the scariest thing I'd ever seen. Freaks! Human freaks!"

Was I one of them?

Nathan's stomach growled and reminded me I was hungry too. We went into the kitchen, and he volunteered to make dinner. That consisted of him boiling water for spaghetti noodles and heating up sauce out of a jar.

"Her name was Kelly," he said. "The woman." We'd been talking about what to eat for dinner since we'd left the room, but I was hoping he would bring her up again. "Her brother's name was Oliver."

I brought two plates to the stove. His pot splattered hot spaghetti sauce all over it. I reached around his back to turn down the burner, resisting the urge to touch him. Or maybe I should've just been bold and felt his muscles. If I were human, I'd lose him soon anyway. And Sophia, this house, everything I'd gotten since the fire alarm.

"They told me their names, so I would tell them mine once they'd forced me to shift."

"How'd they do that?"

"Cold water. It doesn't bother me anymore. I know how to control myself now." He piled clumps of noodles on the plates. He hadn't stirred them enough, I guessed. He didn't bother with a spoon for the sauce. He tilted the pot over the plate until the noodle clumps were covered. "Anyway, they seemed pissed that they couldn't figure out my name. They knew everyone's but mine. That's how I found out the worst thing about them. They're... psychic."

I stuttered for a second while he looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Psychics don't exist," I said. "It's just something witches made up when they were coming out of hiding to get humans to trust them and seem useful."

"That's the oddest thing I've ever heard, Chris. Their powers are from their brains. I don't really know how it works, but they read minds and manipulate things with their thoughts. You'd need a spell or something for that. You know that. Witches aren't psychic." The plates slipped out of my hand, but he managed to put the pot down and catch them before they fell. It was quiet for a moment. "Let me guess, nuns told you witches could read your mind, right?" I nodded, still in shock. He laughed. "And you believed them even though you couldn't do it?"

I couldn't answer, and he chuckled again. He took our nearly shattered plates to the patio. As we ate the surprisingly tasty spaghetti, Nathan volunteered to school me in Agent and Hunter 101.

"Agents work for the government. Really, they work for Lydia Shaw and she works for the... I don't know... maybe the U.N. or something big. Hunters are more freelance, but they both have powers," he said. "It's like they can just do things with their minds. Lift you. Move things. And they just know things about you. Kelly had to call Oliver in for me. She said he was stronger. She said he could hear every thought that goes through my head, but he couldn't. Just me, though. He could totally hear everyone else."

I wanted to face plant into my dinner. I could hear thoughts and no one else here could. And I couldn't hear Nathan's, just like Oliver and Kelly. I was psychic like hunters and agents, and from the disgust in his voice, my first friend hated hunters and feared agents. With good reason.

"So do these people sign up with the government and show them their powers to become one of them?" I asked.

"No. Humans don't know the truth about Lydia Shaw and people like her. The government thinks they use special weapons. Silver bullets and coated arrows and stuff. They go through this secret training to expand their minds or whatever. They're normal people before that. Oliver sat in front of my cage for an hour trying to figure me out, saying he hadn't felt that powerless in years. I went ahead and told him everything he wanted to know so he'd leave... since I was completely naked."

He held his hands over his chest like he had boobs to cover. We both laughed. How did he do that? Manage to calm me down and make me forget to be upset? My entire life had been a lie—a lie I'd told myself—but I was laughing over dinner with Nate.

"Anyway. Oliver told me he trained for ten years for his powers and he'd never had more trouble cracking someone."

Ten years? Finally something that didn't fit.

"So none of them were born that way? Like didn't go through the training?" I asked, my voice soft, timid.

He looked up, considering my question. "Well, yeah. Some." I concentrated on my breaths, keeping them even and slow, so I wouldn't pass out. "After two days, Kelly and Oliver brought me back to L.A. because I wouldn't make them any money. They said I was a harmless boy that was sometimes a harmless dog and the agents would never detain me. I was living behind a store, and this shifter, a wolf who thought he was better than me, mentioned he'd come across this really awful hunter once."

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. I slipped my shaking hands under my thighs to hide them.

"You remember when we were talking about them before and stopped?" he asked. I nodded fast, near cardiac arrest. "It's because some hunters are terrible. I didn't want to scare you. This hunter that the wolf described seemed like the worst it can get. He said he was into breeding these things called copies. Women hunters can pass their psychic powers to their babies if they use their powers when they're pregnant."

I grabbed two handfuls of thigh, pinching my skin so that I wouldn't fly up from the chair.

"How?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really know how to explain it. It's not like our powers. Not passed through blood, generations of magic. It's like the powers they have, the psychic stuff, affects the kid. Like drinking and smoking and drugs. The baby comes out weird."

"What do you mean, it comes out weird?" I whispered.

"Like craving hunter things. They don't act like normal kids. They want what they were made to want. They want to kill. The wolf said they act exactly like the hunter moms in every way. How they talk, walk. Like an imprint. Not its own person."

He pretended to gag up his food while I thought of my mother—who so obviously passed me her powers—hunting creatures with a big, round belly.

My mind floated back to the say-no-to-drugs assembly we were mandated to attend a few years ago. The nuns showed us horrible pictures of babies affected by drugs and alcohol in an attempt to scare us away from ever forming the habit.

I looked down at my arms, then my legs, suddenly feeling like I belonged in an incubator.

"But they're human?" I asked.

"Technically, yes, but they're not what we think of as human. Ones with families. Innocent and powerless. They are born evil because they can only act like the mother. Do the math, a vicious hunter makes an imprint of herself. What does she get? Another vicious hunter, without waiting years to train it. After humans won the war, they would send copies out to patrol the streets to find us. They were useful, I guess, until the treaty forced hunters to stop slaughtering us. Now it's just a few of them left, I hear. They live alone in little cells when they're not out doing something awful. They don't talk much. They don't enjoy things. Well, maybe killing our kind, since that's what they're made for. Besides that, they have no personalities because the mothers didn't give them one. I heard the powers... like... wipe their brains clean and they can only pick up what they experience in—what's it called—utero?"

I nodded. "Utero, yeah," I mumbled.

"Utero is a weird word," he said, chuckling as I strained myself against the chair. I was close to falling out of it.

I wasn't depressed. I was a copy, bred to hunt and kill magical kind. Not to smile and laugh and be normal. I was never meant to do those things. My heart fluttered, and he rubbed my shoulder, like he could hear every nervous beat. "So hunters do this. Not agents?" I asked, just to fill the silence.

"Agents follow the rules. Most hunters, too. It's just the awful ones who don't care that it's a major offense to make a copy. Very illegal. Violates the treaty on their part."

My skin crawled, so vivid and real I expected to see it moving. I started to feel wrong in my chair, like I shouldn't be here, like my birth was a terrible mistake. An illegal one.

"So what would Lydia Shaw think of a copy?" I asked.

"Probably what everyone thinks. They're too dangerous to exist. The wolf said they kill without thinking, in the most vicious and savage ways. I'm talking... breaking your neck with a look or burning your house down with a thought. And they're faster than hunters, meaner, too. But don't worry, we're targets for hunters who need to make money, and they don't ever have copies. They're afraid of them, too. Odds are, you'll never meet one of those dangerous, psychic monsters."

I was a dangerous, psychic monster. An awful thing that shouldn't exist, like I'd always thought I was. Just without having magic. I didn't suspect that I was a copy. It felt like complete and utter truth, a suffocating reality that hovered around me for the hour I sat with Nathan on the patio.

I hooked my arm around him on the second floor to say goodnight, ready to fall apart alone in my room.

"Oh," he said, like he wasn't expecting the hug. "Okay... goodnight."

I heard the disappointment in his voice. For some reason, his mind was closed off to my creepy, inborn psychic abilities, but I knew him well now. He wasn't ready to go to bed.

"You want to come hang out for a while?" I asked, regretting it immediately. I didn't think I could hold it together much longer.

Then he smiled, and I knew I'd endure however many hours of gripping tension in my chest to see his face this way. Eager to be with me, even if only as friends.

I let him control the remote, and he thankfully bypassed the news and settled on cartoons.

I nestled in my corner of the sofa and braced a pillow against my chest. For endless minutes, it was the only thing holding me together. Pressing the meltdown further inside of me would only make things worse for later, but I had to do this for him. And every time he laughed at the talking dog, the hurt from the night subsided a little.

I fixed my eyes on the red dot next to the power button on the TV. I'd always had a habit of staring like the hunters. Just like my hunter parents who bred me. Whitney was so gracious to bring it to my attention when we were thirteen.

She was screaming at me in our room after a disastrous dinner in the cafeteria. Sienna had managed to find a new low—she'd stolen the orange from my tray. This time, she wasn't trying to cause a scene, just a little chuckle before leaving the cafeteria, but the moment her hand touched the only thing in the world that could make me feel something, I screamed to the top of my lungs.

Sienna threw the orange at my feet, laughing so hard she cried, and I scrambled after it like a puppy. So, I'd been listening to how much I'd embarrassed Whitney and had ruined her life yet again for forty-five minutes while discretely sniffing the ends of my fingers, letting that scent pull me away and touch something in the middle of my dead heart, something calm and, in a way, too painful to explore.

"Stop that!" she'd said.

"Stop what?"

"That. What are you staring at? Your fingers? The floor? You always do that. I risk so much being around you. The least you could do is look at me when I'm talking. Take your eyes off of nothing for one damn minute!"

Then she started up again, going on and on about how I'd ruined any chance of her being in Sienna's group as the citrus scent dulled from my finger tips.

I never congratulated Whitney for getting what she wanted, and I never figured out why oranges made me feel like I'd found something I'd lost a long time ago.

"Did you hear me, Chris?" Nate asked. It didn't sound like it was the first thing he'd said. And the volume was muted. When did that happen?

"Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted me to leave. I should've let you deal with whatever was upsetting you instead of trying to distract you all night. I'm sorry. I'm just new at this."

I uncurled myself out of the ball I was in and grabbed his hand. "No. Thanks for cleaning and cooking for me. You're amazing. Best friend ever."

That's when the fact that a human and a shifter couldn't be friends by law crushed me. He looked down at our hands and lifted one corner of his mouth. That's when I realized I couldn't let go.

"I'm trying," he said. "Probably a little too hard." I shook my head, smiling at him. It faded suddenly as the heartache flared again. "If that pillow isn't working, I have two arms over here."

He held them open, and I just stared at him, in complete shock. He wanted to hold me, and I'd never been held. Not like that, not more than a hug. "You wouldn't mind?" I asked. He pulled me with no effort at all and cradled me in his lap. I wrapped my arms around him, sinking deeper into his chest, getting lost in the airy smell of his skin.

"Is it about the cleansing I walked in on?" he asked. I nodded in the groove of his neck. "I'm sorry it upset you so much." He tightened his arms around me, rocking us slightly.

I wished the cleansing had a chance of working for me. I'd always thought magical kind were the worst things out there, and I'd hated myself for being one, but in the same hour I'd found no magic in my blood, I learned that I was something worse, something bred.

Every flash out I'd ever had made sense now. And I had the audacity to lie in the arms of someone my parents would've wanted me to cage and probably kill for maybe no other reason than being what he was. But I still couldn't let go.

I squeezed him tighter every time I thought of a time I'd wanted to kill, how I knew I could do it even though I'd never gone through with it, and how hurting people felt as natural as blinking. My parents gave me more than fifty-two million dollars. They were awful and had made me that way, too.

That was why they'd hidden me at a human school. They were human. I was human, the worst kind of human.

"You probably don't need to cleanse. I wouldn't be able to be this close to you if you were evil," Nathan said. "I'd smell it on you."

I leaned back to see his face. "What?"

"When I need to be cautious of people, they smell weird to me. It's a dog thing. Or maybe a shifter thing," he said. "It makes me an excellent judge of character." I felt my eyebrows draw together and my face scrunch. "Seriously! Okay, Sophia, you think she's sweet, right?" I nodded. "You'd be right. She smells sweet. Like pure sugar. Paul too, just under a layer of smoke." He laughed and I giggled, like a real, girly giggle. How human teenager of me. "Emma smells like them, just faintly, powdery. And Remi smells like she acts. Sour. Like milk before it's rancid."

"Gross."

"You're telling me. I have to smell that for three hours a day! She needs to change her attitude or something, or I'm going to start walking around with air freshener."

I laughed and leaned back into him. He'd done it again, managed to make me forget about my awful life.

"And me?" I asked.

He pulled my left arm from his side. He held my wrist to his nose and inhaled. "Sweet, but not like the rest of them." I rolled my eyes. Of course I didn't smell like them. "Not just like sugar. You smell more specific than that. Like cake batter. And..." He paused, taking another whiff. I tried and failed to suppress a shudder. "Spice. Like something spicy was dumped in the batter."

"That sounds disgusting," I said.

"The opposite, actually. Best thing I've ever smelled." I knew I'd imagined the coarseness in his voice. It didn't matter if it was real or fake. It stunned me either way. "That's why I wanted to be your friend. You smell better than everyone here. And the belly rub... obviously." He laughed, but I couldn't. I was somewhere between wanting to scream about being a copy and wanting my first friend to give me my first kiss.

Nathan grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from his chest.

"Do you feel better?" he asked. I nodded, not entirely truth or lie. He smiled, a heart shattering smile, and pressed his lips lightly, friendly, against my cheek.

Three different cartoons came and went as I lay in the arms of my friend who'd kissed me. I didn't want him to fear me, so I didn't mention the blood test. I didn't even know how to start that conversation.

I will hate the time 10:45 for the rest of my life—when he saw me dozing off on his chest and said goodnight.

I stood at the door after locking it, wishing it were depression that was about to crush me. I'd been naïve to think it would be that simple. Like the problem I'd had my entire life could be explained by a survey.

I closed my eyes and saw myself in the playroom in my dorm. I must have been around four. Sister Constantine, a tall and stocky woman, had just brushed my hair into pigtails and switched my shoes to the correct foot.

"Leah, are you going to be friendly today like I asked?" I nodded, lying at an early age. She pointed to Sienna, Esther at the time. She was jumping around a circle of girls, about to choose her goose. "Just do that. Just do something other than sit in the corner today."

I didn't. As soon as she'd walked way, I bypassed the game and colored in a quiet corner until playtime was over. And I did that every day, drawing in silence, only moving when Whitney would annoy me enough that I'd get up and push her on the swing or be the body on the other side of a checker board. I'd thought I was just quiet until the savage side of me emerged.

It wasn't magic. It was something that seemed far worse.

"Oh my God," I whispered, crawling in bed. I let the pain crush me, grind me into nothing against the sheets. I felt powerless against it. Like it didn't matter how hard I tried, how many positive things I'd say to myself. Nothing would work. Nothing would change me.

When my phone beeped in the sitting room, I wanted to ignore it, but since there was a chance it could be my friend, I slunk out of bed to get it.

It was. I opened his message, tears still pouring from my eyes. His face popped up on the screen, eyes crossed with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I laughed at his silly face, wishing he were here in person.

Another message popped up as I stared at the screen.

Success!

He could hear me laughing, crying too. I replied, Am I a loud crier or are your ears just great?

It's the ears. I can't usually hear in your room, though. It's because we're still alone in the house, no other noise. And I'm right under you. I kneeled down, wiping my face, and knocked on the floor. My phone beeped a moment later. Who's there?

I laughed again. I didn't have any knock-knock jokes cued up, so I lowered my face to the floor and said, "Thanks, Nate. You're a really good friend."

So are you, he replied.

He was right. I was his friend. I cared about him. I enjoyed him. I fit the description of a copy before I came here. Now... after trying, I was changing. Out of the bed and from under the murky cloud hanging over it, I could see how I'd made myself do things I'd never done before. Things Leah would have never done at St. Catalina.

This couldn't be all there was to my life—an evil psychic who mistook herself for a witch. The end, without a choice of writing my own future.

I was a copy, no doubt in my mind, but apparently copies could do one thing. They could try. After learning that my parents intended for me to be a murderer, I wanted to curl up and disappear, but I'd fought those urges for years, and I'd fight them forever, especially now.

I took the phone to my bed and stared at Nate until I couldn't hold my eyes open. He met me in my dream. He lifted me up in his arms, and his lips were a lot less friendly. A lot more illegal.

The first thing I did in the morning was rub my lips. They were tingling like I'd actually kissed him.

I stretched in bed as I smiled at the beautiful dream.

I sat up and screamed.

Sophia was sitting at the foot of my bed with a knife in her hand. The knife from last night. I guessed since they were technically her drawers, she had the right to go through them.

"Sweetie, I understand that you may feel that life is hopeless sometimes," she whispered. "But I won't let this happen. I will watch you around the clock if necessary."

"No, Sophia. It's not there for that. I'm not suicidal or hurting myself." She sighed. "I promise." Doubt clouded her eyes. I glanced at my fingers. The swelling was gone, and there was barely any evidence that I'd tested my blood last night. Other than the knife in her hand. I just needed to explain it in a way that didn't require me telling her something that would make her kick me out, maybe even run for her life. "It's for protection. I'm afraid of Lydia Shaw. She's still out there looking for me."

Great lie. And she believed it. Slowly, her face softened into a smile. "Oh, honey, don't worry. She won't find you. I guarantee it." She stood and slipped the knife in her dress pocket. "I'm late for work. Call me if you need to ta—"

"I'm fine. I promise."

She blew me a kiss and vanished.

My roommates came down together as I dug into the ham and cheese omelet Sophia had left on the island. Everyone spoke but Remi. She passed by like I wasn't there. Nathan fixed a bowl of cereal and plopped down in the seat next to me. I couldn't take my eyes off of his lips, remembering how they felt pressed against mine in the dream.

"How's your omelet," he asked.

"Good. Want some?"

He nodded and grabbed my fork from my hand. He sliced off a corner of the omelet and ate from the fork that had just been in my mouth. He handed it back. I wouldn't dream of wiping it. It was almost like kissing him. The closest I'd get.

"That was good. Thanks, Chris," he said, holding out his fist for a bump, the friendliest, most unsexy gesture in the world.

"Emma, I have to be honest. You are starting to piss me off," Remi said, out of nowhere, it seemed. She'd been silent until then. Emma sighed and turned back to the stove, filling two plates with steaming food.

"Knock it off," Paul said. "She had a rough day yesterday. Because of you."

Emma gave one of the plates to Paul, and Remi eyed it like she wanted one. "Aw. You remembered I hate my eggs to touch my bacon. Thanks, Em."

Remi grunted and slammed the refrigerator door harder than necessary. We all ignored it.

Emma snapped her fingers, like Sophia and unlike me, and a chair moved next to mine. "Christine, I should've said this yesterday, but I was afraid to come talk to you. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking about you and your situation the other night. I should have been. You're hiding, and since I'm staying here with you, I need to be more careful."

"Don't cry. I'm not mad," I said.

I passed her a napkin for her eyes that I hadn't used. I wanted to make her feel better, be nice, maybe try to prove myself wrong about being a copy. But I'd never been more certain about anything in my life.

"I know what I did was wrong. I used dark magic, but, thankfully, he wasn't a hunter. Sophie took care of everything, but, Christine, I'm so sorry. If someone found you because of me, I would never forgive myself. I can't imagine living by myself with humans. I don't want you to have to go back."

The kitchen was quiet as she cried; no one spoke. Her breakdown made me feel too important, too powerful. Like something she needed to fear. I shivered at the truth in that. If agents and hunters were stronger than them, and I was one naturally—or unnaturally—it would make me the strongest thing in this house. And their enemy. God, I didn't want to be.

"I'm not that kind of person usually," Emma said, catching her breath then losing it again. "I was scared. Sophie has been so different lately, and I knew if we got in trouble, she wouldn't let us come back."

"I think I found a job," Remi said, loud, a purposeful subject change. "Pay sucks, but it'll be enough to leave this fairytale land that drips honey covered goodness."

"You're leaving?" Emma asked.

Remi speared her knife through a sausage link on her plate. "When did we stop being a we?" she spat. She pointed her knife at Paul. "When you met back up with your childhood buddy that you're hopelessly, sickeningly in love with? And stupidly since you're obviously not his type?"

Emma's face turned three shades of red. God, Remi was awful—a Sienna in magical skin and sharpened, unpolished claws.

"I'm not in love with you," she said, looking at Paul. "I swear."

"Don't worry about it, Em. We would've been married and divorced by now if that were true," Paul said. Nate laughed and I melted. There couldn't be a better sound than that laugh. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, memorizing how it felt to enjoy something. I thought it would help me try to change my default setting: numb, humorless, and easily angered.

"And we are still a we, Remi. I just prefer to stay with Sophie and do things her way. Find a proper job. Live a proper life."

"And Sophia's house is so nice," Nathan said. "I don't understand why you wouldn't stay here as long as she lets you."

Remi grabbed her plate off the island and prowled to the door. "Shut it, Sparky. It isn't even her house."

She slammed the patio door and kicked her feet up on the table out there. Nathan looked at me, eyebrows high and confused. I hunched my shoulders, just as confused as he was. "Is that true?" I asked for us both.

Paul and Emma nodded. "You didn't know? I mean... Nana's a maid. She's been working for the same family for years and makes pretty good money, but she couldn't afford a house like this. She and my grandfather live in Texas," he said, sounding like a cowboy. "She doesn't even sleep here. You'd think so, you know, to make sure we're following the rules, but she doesn't. She wouldn't dare live away from my grandfather. My mom almost didn't let me move here because of that, said I'd be living wild and free."

Nate dropped his spoon and stood from his chair. "No, I've seen her go in there in a nightgown," he said.

He walked out of the kitchen, and we followed him to a room on the first floor that Sophia had shown me during my tour. Now that I thought about it, she didn't say it was hers. She didn't say any of them were. He opened the door to the room that was half the size of mine. Nate opened the closet. Empty. Emma pulled out the drawers. They were empty, too.

"Told you," she said. "She lives with Gregory."

"Whose house is this then?" Nathan asked. Emma and Paul looked puzzled, like they hadn't thought about that. "Maybe a friend of hers? I'd like to know who I'm living off of."

And I'd like to know why I had the grandest room in this person's house. And why Sophia rifled through their drawers.

Paul clicked his tongue and pointed at Emma. "Revelations. Salt or sugar?"

"Sugar. No... it's salt," she said.

"You try. You're way better at summoning things than I am," Paul said. Emma snapped and a saltshaker appeared in Paul's hands a few seconds later. She smiled and clapped like she'd surprised herself. I'd thought about a knife appearing in my hand last night before it did, and when it appeared, I wasn't shocked. I'd always felt strong and capable of all sorts of things. I was definitely stronger than them. Faster, too.

Paul sprinkled salt on the black dresser in a straight line. He stretched his neck to both sides. "This better work. I've never practiced this much in my life." He leaned over the salt, and the ends of his hair swept through the line. "Come on, Paul. You can do this," he said to himself. "I'd like to see both of these girls in nothing but foam, but first show me the owner of this home."

We groaned at his spell, but it worked despite how ridiculous it was. The salt began to shift and separate. Slowly, the letters formed, revealing the owner of the house. I gasped, and read the name out loud.

"Cecilia Neal."

# Chapter Seven

None of them had heard the name before. Just me. Because it was my name, the one on my shiny credit card.

They assumed Cecilia was a friend they didn't know and let it go.

Paul and Emma left Sophia's fake room. Nate looked in the empty closet again, still shocked maybe. "What did she tell you when she brought you here?" he asked.

"That she wanted me to stay with her. I suppose she never said at her house. And it makes sense. She's a maid and she asked me for money. I should've figured this out."

He put his hands on my shoulders. I hadn't realized he was so close behind me. I didn't jump. Nothing about Nathan was startling.

"She never said she lived here to me either, now that I think about it. Sophia came to the hunter's house for Emma. Then Emma begged her to take Remi. Then she saw me and shelled out a few hundred in case I wasn't just a dog. When I shifted, she asked if I wanted to get off of the streets, and I said yes."

"I'm glad she did," I said.

"Me, too." He chuckled, and I looked back at him to see what I'd missed. He pointed at the mirror attached to the dresser in front of us. "Have you ever avoided a mirror before?"

I shook my head, trying not to fall in love with the look of us together.

"I have. After I shifted the first time, I thought I would see something weird in the mirror. Theresa told me she'd seen a werewolf before, and I thought I was one. I thought I would see the monster she described if I looked at my reflection. Isn't that terrible? Can you imagine thinking you're something like that?" I could more than imagine that. I nodded, at war with the downturned corners of my mouth. "Sorry. I forgot. Last night... sorry."

"It's okay, Nate." He smiled at me in the mirror. I could have fainted. God, he was gorgeous. And my friend. I needed to remember that. It would be beyond horrible if I made a nice guy like him let me down easily. That would definitely strain our friendship.

"It's my duty as best friend to remind you of how good you smell when you forget. So don't worry, you'll never have to avoid a mirror." I turned around and hugged him, forcing my hands to be still on his back like a friend would. Like he was doing right now. He let go and walked to the door. "Have fun with school stuff. I'm washing windows today. Sounds so fun. Want to eat lunch together?"

"Of course."

I stayed in the room alone for a while. I sat on the bed, more confused than I was last night—the night I found out I wasn't a witch. I was human, well a copy of one, and Sophia was pretending to live in a house that belonged to me.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. Bumps sprouted all over them as a terrifying chill brushed my hand. I turned towards the cold, my breath a thick cloud in the air. The chill crept up my arm, and I jumped up from the bed. I ran to my room like a spaz. Thankfully, no one from my new life saw me.

In my room, I paced in front of my bed, trying to convince myself that I'd imagined the chill. I had bigger problems right now. Sophia had neglected to tell me something huge, and I needed to know why. I waited for that request to do something, to be psychic.

Dead silence followed.

"Okay... what about Raymond and Catherine Grant? Who were they?" Nothing still. I repeated the thought without the words, hoping whatever creepy psychic stuff in my mind would kick in then.

Still nothing. That made four people my powers were useless on. Or three types— experienced witches, beautiful shifters, and the dead.

I opened my laptop to give the great equalizer a shot. I typed in their names and generated millions of results in a moment. There would be no school for me today.

My butt was numb from sitting after hours of clicking and hoping and finding nothing of merit. After giving up, I sat there, powerless and clueless. Not knowing anything about myself or the world. Other than that I was bred to be a vicious killer.

A familiar and playful cadence of knocks on my door interrupted my thoughts and added something else I knew about the world: I had a friend I didn't want to lose.

"It's open, Nate." I closed out the screen from my failed search. I turned around, and my handsome and incredibly perfect friend held out a plate with two sandwiches piled on top. He braced two cans of soda against his chest with his other arm. "Wow, thanks." We sat in front of the TV, and I gave him the remote. Cartoons again. "You know you don't have to cook for me all the time, right?"

He nodded as he opened his can and took a swig. "It's no trouble. They're watching this horror movie I don't think you'd like, so I came up here."

I smiled because he seemed so sure of that, like he knew me. My heart twisted because he didn't. Copies probably had no trouble with horror movies. It sounded like we were like something right out of one.

"Chris, I heard your heart earlier," he said, tapping his ear. "It sounded like you freaked out when they did the spell. Do you hate even being around magic?" he asked.

The light from the open curtain cast a glow around him. He looked angelic, perfect, impossible to lie to. I didn't have the words, so I went to my desk, pulled out the credit card, and brought it back to him.

He studied it. I saw exactly when he made the connection between the names.

"Sophia gave me that. She said her husband changed the name on all of my bank stuff to Cecilia Neal so it couldn't be tracked to me."

"It's your house?" he asked, barely a whisper.

"I think so. I don't know. I think she bought it with my money."

"Without telling you?" he asked. I nodded. "This house costs way more than ten thousand. You think she may have taken something from you?" I shrugged my shoulders and stammered something close to a maybe. "Can you check?"

I brought my laptop and bank papers to the sofa. I logged on to my account. The balance was still fifty-two million. She hadn't even taken the ten thousand. Or maybe it hadn't shown up yet. I was tempted to call the customer service number to ask about withdrawals, but I was a missing person and wanted to stay that way.

"That's a lot of money," Nathan said. He jammed the sandwich in his mouth, devouring half of it with one bite. "You should just ask her about it. I'm sure she has an explanation." He stuffed the other half in his mouth, chewing fast like it was going somewhere.

"Hope so," I said.

I wanted to crawl to his lap and let him erase how worried I was about this. About everything. Is that something I can ask for? I didn't think I could get the words, will you hold me again, out of my mouth.

Nathan pushed up to his feet and slipped a hand awkwardly in his pocket. "I have more windows to clean before I meet up with Remi," he said, without his usual smile. "See ya."

I managed a wave but nothing else. Truth was, the coldness in his voice hurt me. And just before he turned, I saw how far away those beautiful green eyes were from this room. From me.

I climbed in bed, every part of me wanting to sink into the sheets. Sleep would soothe my heart from worry about Sophia and being a copy and getting hauled back to school... or to my death.

I groaned and forced myself to get up. I needed to move, do something other than what Leah would've done a few days ago. Other than what copies probably did.

I chose Shakespeare. I walked around my room, reading and refusing to sit or sleep or die as I read slowly enough that I understood what the heck he was talking about.

When Sophia announced that it was time for dinner, I made good on my promise to attend, even though I wanted to be alone. I sat next to Emma again.

Sophia ran through her basic questions for everyone quickly—what chores were done, what schoolwork for me. No one brought up Cecilia Neal or her empty bedroom.

"And you, Remi? Did you clean the toilets like I asked?"

Remi leaned into the table and dropped her fork, a dramatic sound in the silent dining room.

"I think it's funny how your own grandson was mopping floors today and Leah has yet to lift a finger," she said, rolling her eyes. That name cut through me. Leah was the copy hunters left at a Catholic school. I preferred Christine, the name and the girl. "We all think it's ridiculous, but I guess I'm the only one bold enough to say it. So here it is, I refuse to wash another damn toilet until the princess does one first."

Sophia slammed her hand on the table, and I jumped out of my skin. Emma rubbed my shoulder. Both her thoughts and her eyes said that Remi wasn't speaking for her. Paul didn't seem like he would care if I did chores, but maybe he was included in the we Remi spoke of. And that could be why Nate ran off after lunch and why his eyes were drilling a hole into the table.

"Watch your mouth," Sophia said. "Thin line, Remi. This is your last warning."

The rest of dinner was tense and quiet. Nathan hadn't looked up since we sat down. No smiles, no jokes. More strangers than friends.

I trailed behind him on the stairs, waiting for a silly face or an invitation to hang out. I knew he could hear and probably smell me, but he didn't turn around. Before I could say anything to him, Remi bumped my shoulder to pass me. I stumbled and caught the rail.

The world went silent. In moments, I was burning, dying to hurt her. My blood danced with inherited fury. Just like the times I'd been shoved on the stairs in the past. It wouldn't be magic this time. It wouldn't be Satan. It would be the thrill of knowing I could snap her in two. The thrill of fulfilling my purpose, using the powers that were trapped inside of me.

No.

Not again. Not here. I couldn't be Leah. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, begging that girl, that horrible girl, to stay buried where I needed her to be.

"Problem?" Remi said.

"No," I whispered.

I went up the stairs to my floor, my eyes on the yellow and white flats Sophia made me—sweet shoes for the sweet girl she thought I was.

"Hey, hottie. You coming out with us?" she asked Nate, my friend who seemed upset with me.

"Maybe some other time. I'm tired," he said.

"Well, you and I can stay in if you want. My bed is a pretty comfortable place to hang out. And I'm sure it'll be more fun than what you've been doing with what's her face."

I ran up to my room before I could hear his answer.

Pulling my body in the opposite direction of her hurt like hell. Unnatural, worse than sitting in class and letting those girls taunt me. I couldn't get her face out of my mind, the human and the animal. She'd only bumped into me and asked out my friend, but I was dying to show her who I really was.

I remembered watching a documentary in Biology last year, on one of those days Sister Margret didn't feel up to teaching. In it, a tiger had somehow escaped its habitat at the zoo. Before attacking an innocent bystander, it paced in a circle, almost as if it were confused and felt out of place. I'd always felt that way, like someone had let me out of a cage.

My parents had.

They knew they would be killed, probably punished for doing awful things, and stashed me in New Haven where I'd paced for years before almost attacking a few days ago. And now I was pacing again. A tiger living on the third floor of a lovely home, prey underneath me, prey on my mind.

But I couldn't attack. I couldn't ruin another hiding spot. I had to ignore Remi and control myself.

The scent of lemons wafted around me, the wrong kind of citrus, as I sat on the sofa, trying to think of Remi as a bratty teenager and not a thing I should kill. Sophia had beaten me up here. It was her second deep cleaning of the day.

"I've been meaning to speak with you about Remi," she said, leaning in the archway between my bedroom and the sitting room. So much for getting her off of my mind.

"Why?"

"I wanted to make sure she isn't ruining your stay here. I know how things were before. I don't want you to be intimidated by anyone. I'll ask her to leave if it would make you more comfortable."

"I'm fine," I said, and flipped on the TV. I frowned. The channel was still set to Nate's cartoons. I checked my phone. No messages.

"Okay. But if she upsets you in any way, just say the word and she'll be history."

And there she was, treating me like the queen again, or more like the owner of this house. I mashed the power button, silencing the zany sounds of the cartoon, and met her under the archway.

"Sophia, I know about the house. I know it's mine," I said. Her face blanked. She bowed her head. When she raised it again, her face was different. Soft and apologetic. "Paul did a spell with salt. It said Cecilia Neal."

"Christine, It's... I'm... oh, dear," she struggled.

"Did I buy it? Did you buy it with my money?"

Shaking her head, she grabbed my hands. I wanted to open my heart and let my secrets bleed out. I wanted her to say something soothing, something like, you've got it all wrong, sweet angel. Copies aren't evil, but I couldn't. Literally couldn't. My throat tightened, making me feel like I shouldn't say or admit to anything else. The blood test in particular. Something told me to keep it to myself forever.

"I didn't have to buy it. You already owned it. You inherited it. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to live alone." She paused and continued in a whisper. "Given your condition."

Condition? Depression? Psychosis? Or my natural tendency to hate all things? If she knew of my parents, unless they pretended to have magic, she should know about me.

"I wanted people around you, and they needed a place to stay. I thought if you knew this was your home, you wouldn't want the kids staying here. I'm sorry."

"Did my parents live here?" I asked, taking in the room with new eyes. "Did I live here?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I can't say for sure. I didn't know Catherine and Raymond or anything about them other than the money. It could just be a property they owned that is yours now. There's another in Los Angeles." She moved her wrinkled hands to my face and twisted her lips. I'd only known her a few days, but the action was so Sophia that I softened. "Forgive me, sweetheart. I hate lying, but sometimes..."

The pain in her eyes hurt me and made me want to trust her even more. And I lied all the time. I was lying to her right now for something much more serious than a house. "Sometimes you have to," I finished for her. She nodded and pulled me tight into a hug.

We stayed like that for a long minute. I didn't know she was crying until she pulled away.

"I'm sorry. I saw an opportunity and I seized it. They need jobs and homes, and you need to interact with people. You're starved of it. And that's my fault, too." She broke again, throwing her face in her hands and crying fiercely. "I let you stay at that school. I should've. I could've..."

I sighed. Sophia felt guilty for not rescuing me sooner, and she was too nice to feel bad about anything, especially about neglecting someone who was too dangerous to exist.

"You came at the perfect time," I said, thinking of what she'd stopped and that I'd made a friend, however distant he'd been today, because of that timing. "And they can stay, even Remi, for as long as they want." She mumbled a thank you through her dying cries. "And you can stop pretending to live here. We all know."

Sophia chuckled and dried her eyes.

"I've been married to Greg since I was nineteen. I was going to move in, it's just weird being away all night," she said. "Are you sure it's okay with you?"

I grunted and grabbed her hands. For a moment, it felt like she was pulling away, but then she squeezed my hands and smiled. Maybe I'd imagined her looking afraid.

"What is it, love?" she asked.

"I need you to stop treating me like I'm special. Don't ask my permission for things. I'm just the girl you got from school, not royalty. I gave you money that I'm not sure you've taken, but that doesn't mean you have to wait on me. If everyone notices, I don't want to be resented for it."

She raised my hands to her mouth and kissed my fingers... every one of them. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I changed my mind about the money. I felt awful about taking it from you. Greg paid for the kids. And I wait on you because I want to make sure that you're happy and that depression stays away from you." I sighed again. If Sophia thought I was depressed, she couldn't know I was a copy. My secret would be safe as long as I didn't snap. "I'll ease off of the pampering. I can even give you a chore if you'd like."

"Okay."

She scanned the room, twisting her mouth and humming. "Ah. When you get out of the shower, put your clothes in the hamper for me."

"That's it?"

She chuckled. "Baby steps, dear. Have sweet dreams."

She vanished, porting herself to Texas, I guessed. I didn't think I needed to worry about Sophia. It seemed like she knew less about my past than I did. But I did have other things to worry about—Catherine, Raymond, and how fast Remi had made dark desires rush into my heart, made my skin prick with anticipation of how good it would feel to hurt her.

The hot shower didn't calm me. I paced in front of my bed, thinking about my parents. This room had the feel of a master bedroom and bath. I'd bet they slept here.

I ran my fingers along the canopy post. Gross! Did I sleep in my parents' bed... where they used to...

Actually, they were probably not that kind of couple—in love and affectionate. They probably only slept together to make me, the thing that would eventually kill for them, if they even had then. Maybe there were labs involved in breeding. Maybe I grew in a Petri dish.

The room got too stuffy to stand, clouded with worry. A heaviness Leah would sit in, drown in, unaware of herself slipping under. I went to the window, pulled back the thick, floor-length curtain, and opened it. It creaked, like the joints hadn't moved in quite some time.

The window opened to the roof. It was flat enough to sit on. I lay under the stars, listening to the whistling sounds of trees and the symphony of bugs. I shivered, not from cold, but from a familiar and terrifying feeling. I glanced at my arm, hairs telling me what I knew to be true already. I was being watched again.

"I'm fine, Sophia. I hope you don't think I'm about to jump," I whispered, hoping it was really her watching.

I heard a faint ruffling in the distance and sat up, heart pounding, preparing to flash to a new hiding spot if I needed to, if the hunters had found me. A gust of wind blew through the trees, mimicking the sound enough that I could convince myself I didn't need to worry right now.

The hairs fell on my arm, and I relaxed back onto the roof, my eyes watering. I allowed myself a few tears, but I didn't spiral out of control. The tears seemed appropriate. They seemed to whisper, I don't know who to be more afraid of, them or myself, as they fell.

"Stars bring prayers to heaven," I said, quoting something Whitney said once. We were eight and she had finally started to realize how weird I was, how I never talked to anyone, how I rarely even talked to her. She'd kept me up far past my bedtime, rambling about her parents while I just stared at her.

"You don't wonder what they were like?" she'd asked, still jumping around the room at ten o'clock, watching her hair bounce around and making herself dizzy.

"No," I whispered. It came out all rough and hoarse, quite possibly the first thing I'd said in hours.

"Then you're an alien from Mars. No, Jupiter. No, Pluto. Esther... I mean... Sienna... thinks about her parents. She said so today. I heard her." I closed my eyes, wishing I could do the same with my ears. "I wish I could meet them. I wish. I wish. I wish."

She went on for another hour about how the stars had just carried her wish to heaven while I wondered why I couldn't feel anything for my parents. I would answer that question with evil magic a few years later. And Nate would amend that with evil copy after that.

The stars never helped Whitney meet her parents, but maybe they would deliver my wish.

"I wish I could be good. Be Christine, Nathan's friend."

Once I opened a window in my mind to think of him, worry flooded in. He'd ignored me at dinner and all day after scarfing down his lunch like he had a fire to put out somewhere.

Whitney told me once that having no friends was better than me. She was screaming at the top of her lungs as I stared out of the window, wondering why she cared at all. I'd always been the same. Maybe she was hoping I'd grow out if it, but I didn't. I was always sad and tired and... me.

"Crap." I groaned. I'd done the same thing to Nathan. Been too quiet. Too weird. Normal people have bright personalities, and when he saw that I wasn't born with one, he was done.

I didn't want to be that girl anymore.

I crawled back into my room and ran to his. I wanted to be a good friend and a good person. It was what I desired, what I wanted to stand for. And that's who I was, according to Sophia.

I made it to his room before I remembered he could be in there with Remi. I still needed to try. I didn't try hard enough with Whitney, and I made her hate me so much that she joined Sienna and tortured me every day. I took a deep breath to steady myself and knocked. A bed creaked, and the door opened a second later.

"Yeah?" he asked. He stepped into the opening. My breath stalled at the sight of his bare chest. Remi was right, I'd missed out. "Hi," he said. I hadn't recovered. "What's up?"

"I can come back if you're busy," I said. "I just wanted to apologize."

"For what?" I stammered for a second, and he looked down at his chest. "Oh. Sorry. Hold on." He disappeared from the door and came back with a shirt on. "Why do you need to apologize?"

"I know how I am. I'm weird, not fun to be around, but I promise I'll try harder if you give me another chance."

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot." He opened the door and pulled me to his chest. I wrapped my arms around him, remembering to keep them at the friendly height. "There's nothing wrong with you. I'm just having a bad day." I sighed, relieved that I still had my friend and proud that I hadn't started crying. "Do you want to come in?" he asked.

"Yep." I didn't want to stop hugging him, but he dropped his arms. I had to drop mine. His room was small but as nice as the rest of my house. He shut the door softly and leaned on it. I went over to his full-sized bed. He had laundry piled on top of it—jeans, t-shirts, and boxers.

No Remi.

I sat on his bed because he'd sat on mine. It didn't seem off-limits or weird. Well, it wouldn't be for as long as I could restrain myself from sniffing his pillows or something equally as creepy.

He plopped down on the other side of the pile. "Want help?" I asked, gesturing to the clothes. He nodded, and I grabbed a white t-shirt from the top. He laughed, and I raised a brow, asking for the joke. "What?"

"I was just thinking... you're going to eventually stick your hand in that pile and get my underwear. I was imagining what you'd say."

I chuckled. "Probably something awkward."

"No doubt." I threw the half folded shirt at his face. He held it there. "No doubt," he repeated, a little softer, like he'd gone somewhere else for a moment.

"Want to talk about your bad day?" I asked.

"I've just been in a mood, and I was trying to stay away from my best friend so I wouldn't annoy her." I smiled and shook my head, trying to tell him that he could never annoy me. Not this me, anyway. "But I can't really tell you why because it will be weird. It's about a girl."

His words punctured me, letting out the little hope I'd built, and had tried to ignore, for an impossible future with him as more than friends. There was something going on with him and that stupid panther. But if he was having a bad day, it was my job to cheer him up. I never did that for Whitney, and I didn't want to lose him.

"You can talk to me about that kind of thing," I said. "What are best friends for?"

"Why not? It may make me feel less stupid if I just tell you." He cleared his throat and chewed on his bottom lip. "I've been feeling horrible since I made a move on this girl that I don't belong with."

I'd say. Remi sucked and he was perfect. They so didn't belong together. I nodded, trying to be encouraging anyway. "What did you do?"

"Kissed her." I almost gagged. Remi was pretty, but she smelled awful to him, and acted awful to me. "You see... she's a multimillionaire and owns this house, and I'm homeless. She's also beautiful, and I occasionally turn into an animal. Way out of my league. Pretty dumb of me, huh?"

His words swirled in my head, mixing and getting all confused with the tiny hope left in me. I knew I'd imagined it.

"What do you mean? League? What was dumb?" I asked, shaking my head, trying to stay with him in reality this time.

He jumped up from the bed, pacing in the little space between it and his dresser.

"I kissed you yesterday. My stupid instincts misread things. Nothing happened. We just sat there all night. But when you showed me that credit card and your bank account, I felt even worse for making a move."

"What move? You're not talking about Remi?"

"No. She only acts interested in me when you're around. She walked away as soon as you went to your room. And yes, a move. I kissed you on the cheek, and I'm embarrassed because you're rich. You didn't make me feel bad, of course, but you didn't have to. I... I'm sorry. "

"For what? Sophia kisses me on the cheek. It didn't mean anything," I said.

"It did to me, but whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm not good enough to kiss you anyway," he said.

My heart sped like I'd been running for hours. Nathan... liked me? Like more than a friend? I stood, then sat, then stood again. Unsure of what to feel or do or say.

"Are you joking?" I managed, then found the rest of my words. "I'm nowhere near good enough for you." That was an understatement. He was perfection from head to toe, inside and out. Worth way more than fifty-two million dollars. And I was someone's copy. "Since the kiss was on the cheek, and since there wasn't a chance in hell someone who looks like you would want to kiss me, I didn't think you meant anything by it."

He dropped his head and clasped his hands on the back of it.

"You're blind," he said. "And clueless. How does holding you for hours and kissing you not mean anything? What was I supposed to do? Stick my tongue down your throat?"

The thought of that knocked the wind from my chest. It was what he'd done in my dream. Fantasy. There wasn't a chance that he, my friend, would want more from me, the spaz.

However unbelievable, however sure I was that I was about to wake up from some amazing dream, I was somehow bold enough to whisper, "Yes."

He moved too quickly for my eyes. I only saw a blur as he closed the distance between us. He grabbed my face with both of his hands and kissed me, a sweet and perfect, gentle press of his lips to mine.

I couldn't say it was better than I'd hoped it would be. I'd never hoped for this. This was never supposed to happen to me.

I was supposed to fear elimination, for no real reason at all, until I met the death I'd waited for. I was supposed to be secluded, unwanted. Sad and alone with no one to kiss. With no one to want to kiss me.

His lips parted, and I went with what common sense said to do—to part mine, too, tilt my head, and move with him. It made me dizzy, wonderfully so. I clutched his shirt for balance, and he lifted me up in his arms.

My feet dangled over the carpet as I lost myself in the kiss. Everything that had been wrong before was gone. Whoever my parents were, whoever I was meant to be, didn't matter. Because I was this girl, the one who was kissing Nathan. The one who'd want to kiss him forever. Damn magic, damn psychic-hunter powers, damn anything that wasn't his lips.

He sighed into my mouth. If he weren't holding me, I would've fallen over. His lips trailed to my cheek and stopped at my ear. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered. "I'd be okay if you changed your mind. Okay in the sense of being totally devastated, but still okay. You could do way better. Someone rich."

"Stop that. It's not even like you to pity yourself," I said. He sighed and chuckled softly. "It doesn't matter how much money I have. It doesn't make me better."

"I'll try not to let it bother me. I'm sorry about how I acted today. I just don't like mooching. I'm going to find a job really soon and an apartment, and you can come visit."

"Please don't go!" I didn't mean to shout or to grab him like a lunatic. "I mean... I wouldn't want to be here without you. I mean..." I couldn't rephrase that. I couldn't make myself sound less desperate.

"Then every dollar I get will be yours."

I knew I wouldn't take a penny from him, but I let it go. I kissed him this time, getting the hang of things, learning our rhythm—lips close, peck, lips open, linger, linger, linger, peck.

He pulled away, and I froze there, with puckered lips, wanting to feel his again. "Would you like to go on a date with me?" he asked.

"I'd love to," I said, smiling hard enough to break my jaw. A date? With a guy? This guy? Yep, this dream would be over any second now. "Where?"

The smile vanished from his face. "We're not leaving. I haven't even left the gates myself, afraid someone would follow me here. I'm terrified of someone finding you. Lydia Shaw. Anyone. The thought of it freaks me out."

It was very easy to forget she was out there searching while I was safely hidden, gaining a friend and getting kissed.

He put me down, his face still serious. Out of his arms, I felt less protected and more open to my worries. Vulnerable to the truth I'd somehow managed to forget for a moment—I was his enemy, my parents hid me from agents who were currently searching for me, and I was not the person he thought I was.

But I'd just been asked out on a date, a real date with my first friend, so panic would have to wait until it was over.

He grabbed my hand and led me down the stairs and into the kitchen. He popped a bag of popcorn, and I poured two glasses of the lemonade we'd had at dinner. I let him choose the movie. He dropped the remote when we heard machine guns.

"Jackpot," he said. "Wait, are we supposed to watch something with shopping or dancing or something." I shook my head, and he pulled me to his lap like I weighed nothing. "I'm sorry. I'm too much of a gentleman to let you sit over there. The TV's all blurry from that angle."

I laughed and kissed his cheek. How I'd thought this was a friendly position last night was beyond me. I was clueless. The explosions in the background were the perfect soundtrack to how I felt cradled in his arms. Now that I knew he liked me and that I could kiss him, I was smoldering in his lap.

He looked down at me and smiled. I couldn't return it. My bottom lip was trapped in my teeth. His smile faded, and he leaned down to kiss me, like he knew what I wanted without me saying it.

It was sweet and soft again, and I immediately wanted another. He smiled when he pulled away, and I tried to watch the testosterone-soaked movie and not think about being in his arms, or how gorgeous he was, or how his lips felt exactly like they had in my dream.

"Chris, do you believe in God?" he asked, as a guy with guns in both of his hands shot up a house.

I turned away from the movie to answer his random question. "Uh... yeah. Why?" He hunched his shoulders. It was easy to forget that everyone didn't believe in God, living at St. Catalina. "Do you?"

"I didn't. Well, I guess I didn't give it much thought before." He touched my nose and smiled. "I can't stop thinking about it now. All of this seems too unbelievable to be happening by chance. Me getting captured by a hunter who would snag a witch with a guardian angel a day later. That same guardian angel took a beautiful girl from school and put us under the same roof. I'm becoming obsessed with the idea of there being someone up there controlling all of this. I thought it was luck the first night, but after kissing you..."

He paused and moved his eyes to open space. I filled in the rest of his sentence in my head. After kissing me... he felt there had to be a God. That this was more than luck. I agreed. This had divine written all over it. So wonderful you had to believe in something bigger, in someone who knew the end before it came. Everything I'd gone through in my life was worth it if it led me here, to a date with Nathan Reece. Being hidden, teased, the disaster during the fire alarm, all of it. I turned back to the movie so he wouldn't see my eyes water. I held the tears in, refusing to cry on my first date.

After the guy ransacked the house and found the safe he'd wanted, he went on another killing spree—its cause I wasn't sure of. He came to his next victim, a guard dog at a drug lord's house. Of course, being the manliest man of all time, he punched out the dog. The poor thing collapsed next to his doggy bowl. It looked nothing like Nate in that form, but I still had to laugh.

"You better not be laughing at what I think you're laughing at." I covered my face, laughing even harder. "I turn into a dog. So what? I don't eat dog food. I don't take potty breaks outside. What else could you poke fun at?"

"Nothing, Nate. It was... sorry."

He peeled my hands away from my face, his serious now.

"If it makes this less weird, I'm not... attracted to you as a dog." I rolled my eyes. He didn't need to make this less weird. "When we played, I remember not even thinking of you as pretty. I just wanted you to have fun and throw the paper. That's all. I swear."

I didn't think he noticed his very human hands drawing circles on my arm. Instead of reassuring him about the shifter thing, I closed my eyes and let the feel of his fingers on my skin sweep me up.

"Oh... did Sophia steal your money to buy this house?"

"Inherited," I said, struggling to hide the tremor in my voice. Embarrassed, I peeked at him with one eye. He smiled and held two fingers against my neck, checking my pulse.

"You okay? Your heart is flipping out worse than it did upstairs." I groaned. I'd forgotten how great his ears were and that he would hear me reacting to him. "Don't worry about it. You make me way more nervous than I could ever make you."

"Not possible."

He laughed hard, throwing his head back. "Are you kidding? I freak out and act like a dork every time you come near me, and I didn't sleep at all last night after I struck out with that kiss."

I pulled myself up and closer by his neck. "I'm so sorry I didn't realize what you were doing. I feel awful."

He pressed his forehead against mine and brought his hands to my face. "I think I've recovered nicely." Frozen with our lips moments apart, he smiled at me. I'd seen that smile for days, I'd want to see it forever, but his lips had a far more interesting purpose now.

I learned the difference between kissing and making out then. I'd thought the terms were synonymous. Kissing was what we'd done in his room. Lips moving in sweet harmony. Making out was not sweet, even when our lips moved slowly.

There was the occasional soft bite. He did it first, and I imitated it later. And hands were more stationary during a kiss. Our hands were everywhere. This sort of chemistry was as fast and easy as our friendship.

I liked kissing. I loved making out.

"Damn you, Sparky!" Nate and I jerked away from each other. We'd gotten carried away. The movie was off, replaced by a show with laughter in the background. We'd been publically breaking Sophia's rule about hanky-panky long enough for my lips to be numb. "You stole my girl!"

Paul laughed as I crawled out of Nathan's lap. Emma and Remi were standing there, gawking, too. Embarrassed was not the word. Nathan smoothed my hair down, probably to no avail, and I flattened the top of his that I'd messed up.

"Is this what you two do when we're gone?" Emma asked, smiling.

I hid my face in my hands. "Does this mean you can't be my second wife?" Paul asked.

"That's exactly what this means," Nathan said. His warm hand grazed my stomach as he tugged at the ends of my shirt that had been hiked up. After, he grabbed my hand and laced his fingers through mine.

"Awww," Emma crooned.

"Yuck. So this is what you like? That's really gross. I think I might vomit," Remi said. My muscles clenched, like she'd poked Leah with a stick and yelled at her to wake up.

I may as well have been sitting in a desk at St. Catalina, fighting the innate murderer inside of me and calling it the devil. I could almost feel the knee socks cutting into my calves and the itchy fabric of my skirt against my leg. My eyes could only see fire, then and now. My thoughts couldn't get passed what it could do, how fast it could do it. And my chest, tight and heavy, wanted me to scream and make someone feel more pain than me. Like it was an order, like I had no choice. But my guilt begged me to focus on something in my classroom that wasn't death, on something in this living room that wasn't Remi.

Nate rubbed a thumb across the back of my hand, across my scaly snake skin, bringing life to it, bringing life to Christine. I willed myself to feel her, that little flower bud fighting to bloom on a thin and fragile stem. She couldn't do this alone, be something she was never meant to be. She needed me to try. Nate brought my hand to his lips and kissed the center of my palm. I clung to that feeling, of blooming, of life. For him. For me. For Remi.

"I know, right. Chris is slumming it. I was surprised she liked me, too," Nate said, owning the rough end of her comment because he was perfect. Remi grunted and left the living room. It was quiet until she slammed the door I allowed her to have.

"Is she ever not like that?" Paul asked. Emma shook her head. "Why are you friends with her?"

"Sophia and my parents think I'm so weak-minded that I need someone like Remi around." She rolled her eyes. "That's not it at all. I am fully aware that she is out of her mind. But traveling the world and partying with her is better than being in Paris with my parents. All day it's 'Edith used to party too much at eighteen, too. Edith wore too much make up, too. Edith rolled her eyes and missed curfew, too—and she died from it'. They are waiting for me to turn into my sister. That's enough to make someone like Remi seem pleasant."

"She's annoying, but I understand that," Nate said. "I can't imagine living at home anymore."

"Amen, brother," Paul said. "My parents are younger, meaner versions of Nana. They act all sweet like you're their baby boy. Then the moment you start a fire in the house when you're drunk, they turn on you."

We all laughed at him. He had the least tragic life here, and he acted like it. Carefree and a little spoiled.

"Shut up, Paul," Emma said. "Lovebirds, I'll have you know, you guys owe me big time for this hook up. Don't worry, I'll remember that we're friends when I make my request."

"Excuse me?" Nate said.

"I gave you her number, Nathan. This is my doing. I'm the matchmaker." I smiled at her. We were officially friends, it seemed, bringing my lifelong total to two. Possibly three if I could count Paul. A door slammed, and Remi stormed down the stairs. "Where are you going?" Emma asked.

"Out... with people who actually like me." She glared around the room, at me the longest, begging me to fix her face. "You four have a nice time together, calling me crazy. Pretending," she said, pointing at Emma. "Like you're not exactly like your sister." She jerked her finger over to Paul. "Like you're not the misfit of your do-gooder family." She pointed at Nate and smiled. "Like you don't belonged tied up outside." She paused and nodded to me. "And you—"

"And her, nothing," Nate interrupted, pulling me closer.

Remi laughed and nodded, like her point had been made anyway. "Goodnight, kids," she said and walked calmly to the door like she hadn't verbally stabbed them and almost me.

We just sat there for a minute until Paul burst out laughing. "She clearly belongs in an institution," he said.

"Totally, and I've been patient," Nate said. "But the next time she says something to or about Chris, I'm going to shift, jump on her bed, and forget that I'm housebroken."

They laughed, but nothing was funny to me. I didn't want a rival because every cell in my body was sure she wouldn't survive a fight with me—the fight she'd threatened me with if I didn't stay away from Nathan. And she'd just walked in on me doing exactly the opposite of that.

Maybe she really liked him. Maybe I should apologize.

Emma perched on the floor by Nate and me, smiling like we were the cutest things in the world. "So what are you guys... just hanging out? Or an official couple?"

"She's my girlfriend. Officially. I even asked her if she was sure," Nathan said. I gasped, too fast to stifle, and they all turned to me. "Did I speak too soon?"

"No. No. It's fine. I just..." I shook my head. I wanted to say thank you or scream or something that would express how amazed I was. I just couldn't form the words.

He leaned in, shielding our faces with a pillow. "I'm sorry, Chris. I just thought—"

"No," I whispered. "I want to be your girlfriend, of course. I was just surprised. Pleasantly." My boyfriend kissed me behind the pillow, soft ones that felt like his lips were melting against mine.

"I can hear you kissing my ex, dude. Not cool," Paul said. Nate pulled away and tossed the pillow at his head.

I guessed I really had to apologize to Remi now. I hadn't just taken Nate off the market for the night. He was mine now. Officially not hers.

"I love it," Emma said. "A witch and a shifter. Your kids will be crazy strong. Hunters are going to hate them!"

The three of them laughed, but I didn't. I couldn't breathe all of a sudden. Kids? My kids will be... human. Well, since I couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would ever break up with Nathan and not marry him if he asked, they'd also be half shifter.

I couldn't just fight against Leah and hope my other problems would go away because one thing would never change—I was human. And my boyfriend of three seconds knew nothing about me, thought copies were horrible and disgusting, and had just made out with one.

"You two need to be more careful. Nana would be pissed about this if she found out," Paul said. "She's so weird lately, especially about Christine."

They gave their word that they'd keep Nate and I a secret from the usually sweet Sophia. I wasn't worried about getting kicked out, of course, but I didn't want to upset her. She'd risked so much already, and a guy she'd brought to live here made a whole lot of contact with a human tonight.

According to Nate, I wouldn't be considered human to everyone. Did that mean I didn't need to worry about violating the treaty?

Emma and Paul left, smiling and waving, and he pulled me back to his lap. "Where were we?" he asked. I pulled myself closer to remind him, and for the next hour, I forgot to care if the treaty applied to me or not.

We managed to watch another episode of the crime show he liked during the breaks we took from each other. After we picked up the popcorn we'd knocked over at some point, we turned off the lights in the living room. We held hands as we climbed the stairs to the second floor. We couldn't find the end to our goodnight kiss. No part of it felt final, every pull of our lips felt like another should follow. I lost track of time as I strained myself closer, running my fingertips along his muscular shoulder line.

"This could go on all night," he said. He kissed my cheek and pulled away. "Goodnight, babe."

"Babe?" I asked, still holding on. Still breathless.

"Yes, babe. And baby. And honey. And any other name I can come up with for my beautiful girlfriend." He kissed me once more, with his hands at his sides. He was gone when I opened my eyes. If my lips weren't tingling, I'd swear I imagined the whole night.

I missed him before I made it to my room. Luckily, my phone was ringing.

"Hey, babe," he said. I smiled and crawled under the covers.

We talked all night, leaving me no time to plan what I'd tell him about my powers. He was really goofy and thought boogers and bodily functions were hilarious. I'd laugh with him, then we'd talk about something serious. Our pasts were both empty and dark. I had the dead parents who I knew nothing about and the other tragic part of my life—being Leah. He had John and Theresa who never paid him any attention. I was sure, maybe psychically sure, that they weren't his parents and something strange and heartbreaking went on there. But then we'd talk about earwax, and everything would be okay again.

# Chapter Eight

I pulled the phone from my ear in the morning. It was off, but I didn't remember hanging up.

I sighed when I smelled lemons. There was absolutely no chance that Sophia needed to clean anything after the job she'd done last night. I rolled out of bed and met her in the bathroom. She was seriously cleaning the door.

"Really?" I said. "Didn't we talk about this?"

She chuckled. "I didn't touch those socks by the toilet. Can I get a little credit?" Her hand closed tightly around something I couldn't see. She slipped it in her pocket as she laughed. "And I didn't make you breakfast."

"I guess that's a start," I said, glancing at the door. It looked like she'd written something in oil at the top of it, shining against the cherry wood.

"I'm off to work. My boss is rude all day if I'm late." She kissed me on my cheek and left, in a flash of light this time, not a snap. Maybe she needed more magic for some places. Or distances.

I stood on my toes and traced the oil on the door. I wasn't sure until I did it again, but she'd written: May the spirits protect this child.

"From what?"

Sophia had promised I was safe here. I swung the door open, looking up at the top of the other side. Oily words dripped from it too.

May the spirits lift her heart and bring her joy.

That one obviously referenced my condition, as she'd put it. I sniffed the oil on my finger. Lemons. I'd thought that scent meant she was cleaning.

I stood on my toes in front of my closet door.

"How have I not seen this?" I said, finding oil there too. On both sides of my closet door she'd written, May the spirits give her peace. I went to my last door, the front one. I traced the oily words, and my heart stopped.

No enemy shall pass.

Someone knocked on the door as I stood there. I jumped and clutched my heart. "Either you're really close to the door, or you're actually baking a cake in there," Nate said.

I opened the door for my boyfriend. He leaned in for a kiss, but I covered my mouth and ran to brush my teeth first.

He was faster. He caught me and lifted me up from behind, trying to embarrass me by sniffing my morning breath. He came in with no problem, but I already knew he wasn't my enemy.

"You're so weird," I said, into my hand.

He carried me to the sink with one arm. "Fine. Go ahead," he said. I watched him suspiciously as I brushed while trying to be neat. "Are you afraid to spit?" I shook my head, lying. I'd been brushing way longer than I would have if he weren't standing there. "Don't make me tickle it out of you."

I turned away from him to empty my mouth in private. "I'm not ticklish," I said.

He grabbed me, wiggling his fingers under my arms, down my back, and around to my stomach. I screamed and laughed and squealed. I was ticklish. I'd just never been tickled before.

He trapped me against the cabinets. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to move. I just had to stand there and like it.

"Can I get my kiss now?" he asked.

"No! I didn't see you brush. I'm not sure if I want to," I said. I laughed and pinched my nose.

"Oh really?" he asked, pressing closer, halting the laughter. His arms made a cage around my head as he braced them against the cabinet.

My stomach flipped, and a crazy buzzing radiated from there until it covered me completely. The thrill of him actually being mine overtook me, made me bold in a way I didn't think I could be. I moved my hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Our sweet rhythm was the same until our kiss sang way more than good morning.

Our lips separated an inch, intensity still present and accounted for, and he smiled.

"Tell me your favorite color. Emma just gave me a pop quiz on you on the stairs, and I missed that question. She said I couldn't call myself a good boyfriend until I knew it."

I didn't really have a favorite color. Until now. "Green," I said because of his eyes. "Yours?"

"Mustard." He grinned and brought one of his hands to my side. "You looked great in that shirt. That's typically what you wear in my head." He cleared his throat and groaned. "Oh, God. That was weird. I'm the one without social skills." He looked away like he was embarrassed, guilty almost. I noticed another side to him then. There was the sweet, goofy guy I always thought of him as, and then there was the one who'd notice a bra through a shirt like Paul, bite my lip during a kiss.

I chuckled, and he finally brought his eyes back to mine. He unpinned me from the cabinets, but we didn't pull away from each other. That felt very impossible.

"You fell asleep while I was in the middle of a story," he said. I tried to remember. He'd been talking about the games he played alone in his room as a child after I told him about the Sienna and Whitney saga, even how it ended and what I almost did. He didn't care.

"Oh, the sock game! I'm sorry." I kissed him to add to my apology.

"It's okay. In your drunken state, you agreed to learn the game." He pulled a long white sock from his pocket and led me to the sitting room. "Don't make fun of this. It was my favorite thing to do... until last night." He pecked my lips and pulled away.

I wondered if we were close to hitting a world record for the most kissing during the first hours of a relationship. I felt a familiar tingle, like the answer to that was complicated, a lot to sort through, like the buzzing at school.

"Hello?" he said, snapping his fingers in my face. "Yours or mine?" I hadn't heard the rest of that question, so I just picked one.

"Yours," I said, still raptured in the sudden energy pulsing through my body.

"Okay. So once the hand is in, you must name the sock person," he said.

He smiled, and I forced my attention to him. I stared into his eyes, still buzzing. "Thomas," I said. It was the first name that came to mind.

He cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes. "My middle name? Did I mention that last night?"

I jerked out of my trance, seeing my mistake. He didn't tell me his middle name last night. He didn't need to tell me anything. I was psychic and... he didn't know it. God, the hunters, Kelly and Oliver, couldn't figure out his name, and I could. I was stronger than them, without training a day in my life.

"Yeah, I must've told you. Did I tell you that's John's middle name, too?" He rolled his eyes. "Like... like I'm really a part of their family, right?" He plastered a fake smile on his face, and I hugged him, glad for the distraction. I wasn't ready to tell him, I was petrified to.

"Forget them. They're stupid," I whispered.

He chuckled. "Are you stalling because you think my game is stupid?" I shook my head against is chest. "Good. So, his name is Thomas. Let's call him Tom." I bit my lip to stop the smile that would inevitably lead to the laugh. He seemed very serious about this, and he'd asked me not to. "So Tom must travel around the room, finding things that start with the same letter as his name."

In that moment, Nathan sounded five years old. His eyes were bright and happy too. I could see him pretending he had a friend, and nothing was funny anymore. This had to be the loneliest game I'd ever seen.

I gave Tom a peck on the mouth, Nate's fingers, and I pulled the sock and my boyfriend to the TV, the table, and to the tissue in the bathroom. It was obvious he'd had more practice. He went to the clock and said, "Ticks and tocks." He took Tom to my blanket and said, "Thread."

I found the obvious ones, and he, the champ, sniffed out the abstract Ts all over the room. He made Tom lift my lip to find my teeth and laughed. While he was there, he found my tongue and ended the sock game.

How was I ever going to tell him he might prefer turning me in to kissing me if he knew what I really was?

Nate patted my stomach, hearing a rumble I'd only felt, and stuffed Tom in his pocket. He threw me over his shoulder, grunting like a caveman, and carried me downstairs.

"Hold on," I said on the second floor, their floor. "Sophia wrote something over my door. I want to see if she does it to you guys."

He walked me to his door and pointed to the top. "Yep. Every morning she whispers, 'May the spirits bless this boy.' Isn't that nice?" I sighed. It was nice. And a relief. She wasn't just doing it for me.

He took me to Paul's door. He held me close to the top, and I traced the lemony oil there. It was harder to see on their cream doors.

"May the spirits be his guide," I said. With my hand on the door, I wondered why she would write this for him. I felt a jolt and dropped my hand, avoiding another psychic moment.

I felt different today. Happy, maybe the most energized I'd ever been in my life. I was one hundred percent sure that I was stronger because of it. Hopefully not more dangerous.

"This is Emma's room," he said, at the next door.

"May the spirits free her from dangerous ties," I said. We both knew why Sophia would write that. Remi.

I wanted to skip the last door, sure something startling was there before we stood in front of it. I traced the oil and dropped my head.

"What?" he asked.

"Bound is this enemy until she is a friend," I said.

I think I knew who Sophia didn't want in my room.

He lowered me down on his chest so that our lips could meet. "Don't worry about her. Sophia obviously has hope for her, or else she wouldn't have her in your house."

He pecked my lips and carried me to the kitchen.

Emma and Paul smirked when we walked in. Paul raised his hand to high-five Nathan. "Way to go, Sparky," he said.

Nathan shook his head and put me down. "My name is not Sparky, and we did not spend the night together."

Paul grunted like we were crazy. I guessed we did live in an unsupervised house, my unsupervised house, and could have talked all night in person, or could have not talked at all.

Remi banged on the kitchen door, and Emma let her in. She was paler than usual, and she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She blew past Emma, bumping her shoulder, and I froze. My skin buzzed, electric and dangerous, as I stared at my prey. Oh, the things I could do to her. The lessons I was created to teach things like her.

Nate squeezed my shoulder, slid his hand to the small of my back, and pecked my cheek. Three bullets to Leah's chest. Remi ran upstairs, unharmed.

"And not so much as a thank you for covering for her," Emma said when Remi's door slammed. "Sophia's right. She's a clone of my sister."

"Ew! Edith made a copy!" Paul said. Their faces soured, reminding me of how disgusting I was to them. To him. "My dad said he saw one during the war. He said he almost wet his pants."

"How did he know what it was?" I asked, nervous.

"How could he not? Bloody face. Evil glare," he said, baring his teeth then laughing. Bloody? Why would our faces be bloody?

Nathan kissed me and pulled me away from my problems again. "Paul, could you not scare my girlfriend this early in the morning?" he said. "You okay, Chris?"

If I'd told him no in that moment, it would have been a lie. I was fine... right now. And I wanted to stay that way. I wanted more seconds with him. I wanted to hope for those seconds to become minutes and days and years of a long and happy life.

I gasped. "She's... becoming just a panther, isn't she?"

"You win the random award of the day, Chris," Paul said.

"I was just thinking about a long life. She's down to three hours as herself. She isn't going to be Remi for much longer, right?" Nate nodded. "That's it. That's why she acts like that." I shuddered. "And when will you stop being you?"

He laughed. "I'm not a deranged panther who hates himself. That loose screw in her head is doing this. It's not normal. I get to be whatever me I want to be until I die." He pulled me closer. "Hopefully all old and gray with my bestie if she can put up with me that long."

"Oh, God. You're a genius," Paul said as I buried my head in Nate's chest and accepted his vague proposal, probably taking it much more seriously than he'd meant it. "The best friend angle! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Shut up, Paul. Babe, you want cereal for breakfast since you fired Sophia?" Nate asked.

"Yeah. Sit. I'll get it."

After breakfast, neither of us could fathom separating. We stretched out on the feathery rug in my room, and he helped me with my schoolwork. He was smart, in a take twenty minutes to get one answer kind of way, but when he got there, it was always right. He knew History well and French, too. He was best at Calculus, the worst at understanding Shakespeare.

Three of the four hours were spent wisely. The last one was debatable. We flipped through my literature book and reenacted the kissing scenes in awful accents, finding the slightest reason to touch each other and adding kissing to scenes that had none.

"I'm late for Remi's lesson," he said and groaned. "Will you be my air freshener today?" I answered yes with a kiss. He picked me up and tossed me around to his back. I held on tight as he blurred down the stairs. He knocked on her door. No answer. "Want to hunt her down with me?"

"Okay."

He sniffed the air, and I giggled. He'd meant that literally. "She's not up here." He dropped to his knees, jerking me down with him, and sniffed the stairs. I laughed and screamed when he jumped down them. "She's this way." He stood and opened the front door. I adjusted on his back, snaking my arms around to his abs. "Behave back there, Ms. Grant," he said.

He carried me around the yard until we saw her. She was crouched on two legs by the gate... with a camera in her hands.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She stood and pointed the camera at us. The light flashed, and I ducked behind Nate's back. "Stop."

She chuckled. I peeked over his shoulder. She wiped her sweaty face with the ends of her shirt, flashing her bra at us. At him.

"You don't like having your picture taken, hottie?" She raised the camera again and snapped another shot. I didn't have time to duck again. "What about you, Leah? Don't you want the world to have a better picture of you than the one they're showing on the news?"

My muscles tensed. This girl could get under my skin faster than anyone I'd ever known, Sienna included. Nathan snatched her camera, and I jumped down from his back.

"Don't be stupid, Remi," he said.

She laughed and grabbed for her camera. He held it out of her reach. "I'm not going to do anything with the pictures, asshole. I'm just making memories. I'll be out of here soon, and I doubt I'll ever stay somewhere this nice. I want to remember this." He turned her camera around, looking at the screen. "That's personal. Give it back!"

She grunted, and I stepped back in case she was about to shift into a panther.

"I'm deleting the pictures of Chris. Just in case."

"Give it to me now, Sparky! Or I'll tell Sophia about the tongue wrestling you two were doing. I'm sure she'll let your little girlfriend stay here since Lydia Shaw would kill her if she found Leah. But you'll be out on your ass. You think Ms. Rich and Perfect is going to want you when you smell like a hobo again?"

My temper erupted in a second. My eyes flew to the fragile joints in her arm then to the veins in her neck. Nate had told me copies killed in savage and monstrous ways. I'd imagined horrible deaths for the girls at St. Catalina, but none of them had anything on what my wired brain wanted to do to Remi.

I shivered and saw myself hurling into the trashcan with Sophia, remembering how it felt to be evil. To be ashamed of myself. I wouldn't enjoy hurting her. Not for more than a moment. And even though I'd only had him for a short time, losing him that way, in the wake of killing a shifter, would be entirely too much to bear.

He flung the camera at her face, and she caught it. She ran into the house. The back of her gray shirt and pants were drenched. It wasn't hot out here.

He pulled me into his arms and out of my rage. His calming effect was instant. I felt silly for letting her get to me. Nathan made me feel amazingly normal. The irrational reactions of a copy were laughable in his arms.

Would he believe that?

"Baby," he said. "I can assure you that my hobo smell isn't that bad." We laughed, and I squeezed him, feeling like she'd hurt him more than he let on. "I deleted the pictures, but do you want to tell Sophia that she took some of you?"

"I don't want to get her kicked out. That would only make her mad, and she knows too much to be my enemy." As I said that, my chest filled with dread. I felt trapped by her, like she could do anything to me, and I couldn't react. Or she'd expose me.

"Don't worry about it. She'll be gone soon. The house will certainly smell better." I chuckled and pushed that worry aside, along with all the others, and enjoyed being in my boyfriend's arms. "You think Emma will go with her?"

"I hope not," I said.

He pulled out of our hug and grabbed my hand. We walked to a tree close to the gate where Remi had been. He sat down underneath it and opened his arms. I wanted to take a picture of that moment—him, gorgeous and mine, under a canopy of moss.

"I don't think she will," he said as I settled in his lap. "Remi wasn't lying when she said Emma liked Paul. When he gets close to her, it smells like someone is tossing bags of powdered sugar into the air."

"Really? You smell different when you're around someone you like?" I felt him nod against my cheek. "Wow."

"Yeah. So you can imagine how confused I was when you didn't kiss me back the other night. Your scent was practically begging for it." I turned around to see his face. He smiled, and I plucked his nose. Laughing, he sniffed my wrist. "My nose is going to make me the best boyfriend of all time. I know everything about you. I know what you like. I know what you hate. I know what frightens you. All from your scent."

I leaned into him, my forehead against his cheek, ready to confess so he would know me like he thought he did.

"Let's start with the likes." He sniffed from my wrist up to the crease of my elbow. "When I kiss you while holding your face is a top one, but you're simple. Kissing has nothing on just holding you." He slid the tip of his nose up my arm to my neck. "You hate... Remi. You don't show it, but you smell different when she's around. I think you hate the way she talks to you. Since you told me about your bullies... I understand why."

He kissed my neck and brought his hand to my heart. "Nate..."

"One more category. It's the biggest one. I know what scares you. Obvious things like hunters and Lydia Shaw, but since Sophia's meeting, I've smelled how terrified you get when you have to talk about yourself. Nothing scares you more than you."

"Nate..."

"I don't understand why. You're so kind, so beautiful, so sweet. Last night, you told me you used to pray for your enemies every day, Chris."

I regretted being so honest last night. I'd told him Leah's story, everything that had been true before the blood test. I didn't mean for him to view me as some kind of saint. I was far from it.

"I hate that you think being angry with people who encouraged you to kill yourself makes you a bad person. I'd want to use my magic to hurt them too, but you think that makes you the devil. I wish you could smell yourself."

"It's not that simple, Nate. There's more to it than that, and I'm worried that our relationship could fall apart because of it. It could be over as fast as it started."

He sighed and rested his head on the tree. "So I guess we're about to talk about the ridiculously huge problem we have that neither of us has mentioned yet." He closed his eyes and twisted his mouth.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. He couldn't know what I was, or else he would've had a bigger reaction. He thought copies were too dangerous to exist, let alone cuddle with under trees.

"Oh... you know... the fact that one of us hates magic, ignores that she has it, is currently a famous human, is dating someone who can't hide his magic as well and can't live as a human with her unless he gets purged."

"What? Purged?"

His eyes opened wide, huge green circles that were beautiful and shocked. "You don't know?" I shook my head. "It's some creepy way some hunters remove powers. It's science I think. Makes you very sick, but if you survive it, you'd be human."

My chest pounded. He heard it and rubbed my cheek to calm me. "There's a way to be human?" I asked.

"Jesus, I've been worrying about it and you didn't even know. Don't get any ideas. I would never want you around the kind of hunters who do that, the horrible ones, ones who might have copies roaming around. And I can't handle the idea of you not making it. I thought you'd want me to do it because you hate magic."

My heart burned for two reasons: the mention of copies and the sadness in his voice. He'd been worried I would hate something about him. We had the same problem, and we needed the same solution—unconditional acceptance. He had mine.

"I would never ask you to change yourself for me. You're perfect the way you are."

He smiled, and I tightened my arms around him. My heart trembled, hoping he would feel the same way about me. He flipped me over to the grass and tickled me, changing the mood in an instant. I laughed, trying to get away... until he kissed me and I couldn't get close enough.

"Any clue of what I like?" he asked. I shook my head. I didn't have a nose like his, and besides his middle name, my powers hadn't pulled anything from him. "When you kiss me first."

We chuckled, and I kissed him, because he liked that. "And you hate?" I asked.

"Remi and anyone who hurts your feelings."

"Fear?" I whispered.

"You going back to school or worse. Losing you. I'm sorry if that's weird. I know you probably think I'm clingy. I've been smothering you since we met."

"You're not. I like you around."

He smiled slightly, then his lips tightened. "Life sucked before you, Chris. I think I'm just afraid of anything that could... ruin this." He rolled over to his back, pulling me with him. He clutched me like speaking his fear had made it too real. Like he didn't want to let go.

Neither did I. And I didn't want to sour this moment.

Later. There would be plenty of time for the truth later.

When we were finally able to pull away, I helped him with his chore—polishing the expensive trinkets around the house. They belonged to me since they had belonged to Catherine and Raymond.

"Mr. and Mrs. Grant had good taste," he said as he lifted me up to the top of a bookshelf he couldn't reach. I hadn't thought of them as a Mr. and Mrs., a normal married couple. Odds were, they weren't. Christine—no, I—wanted them to be.

I looked down at him and frowned as that thought crashed into me, and he raised his eyebrows. "Do you think... people who are married... do you think they... I don't know... have to love each other? Or can you get married for other reasons?"

Like to breed killers.

"I suppose anyone can get married for whatever reason they wanted, but typically, I think it's for love. Are you wondering about your parents?" I nodded. "It doesn't matter, you know? The past is... the past. Whoever they were or if they loved each other or not doesn't change who you are. I only saw John and Theresa sit in cold silence, and I think I'm a pretty good boyfriend so far."

I wiggled down to his lips and kissed him. "You're a great boyfriend. And I hope you're right about the past not mattering because—"

Paul cleared his throat behind us. "Nana's in the kitchen," he whispered. Nate put me down just as Sophia called for him, Paul, and Emma to meet her in there. I tagged along with my boyfriend, dropping his hand just before walking in. Plastic bags were piled over her arms with hangers poking out of them.

"Remi said she'd come down in a minute," Emma said. Sophia rolled her eyes and gave a bag to each of them, two to Emma. There wasn't one for me.

"I have wonderful news," Sophia said. Emma unzipped her bag and pulled out a pale pink gown. It sparkled at the top. Nate and Paul unzipped their bags. Fancy tuxedoes. I assumed the other bag on Emma's arm was for Remi. "I have pulled some strings to get you into the Magical Council's ball tonight. Think of the connections you could make. Think of the jobs. Think of you not embarrassing me!"

Emma twirled around, making her dress sway and dance. "A ball! This is wonderful, Sophie. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And Christine, don't feel left out. Missing people can't attend balls. Especially people who pretend to be little Catholic schoolgirls. You and I are going to have fun here all on our own," she said, winking at me.

"Sophie, you have to come with us!" Emma said. "I won't know what to say or who to talk to. Please."

"I'll stay here with her," Nathan said. "I don't have to go."

"Good. It's settled," Emma said. "Sophie, do you have a gown? I can try to whip one up."

"No, Nathan you have to go, and Emma, I have to stay," Sophia said.

Nathan, Sophia, and Emma went back and forth for a while. I finally interjected. "I don't need a baby sitter," I said. "I'll be fine here."

Sophia must have really wanted to go. Her face lit up and she asked, "Are you sure, my love?" I told her yes, once then, and the three times she asked after. Then she sent them all to get dressed and disappeared to do the same.

I refused to get upset about spending the evening alone. I just needed to plan it out. One hour at a time. I could do work. I could watch TV. If all else failed, I had the sock game.

"Christine," Emma said, at my door. She looked beautiful in her pink gown, except for her tousled hair. "I asked Remi to pin my hair back, and she told me no. Would you mind?"

I let her in. I dragged the chair from my closet to the bathroom, and she sat in front of the mirror.

"Sorry we're leaving you. Are you mad?" she asked.

"No, I'll be fine here. A magical ball is the last place I need to be," I said, telling more of the truth than necessary.

I pulled the comb, with ease, through her silky hair. When I touched her head with my other hand, I could feel and hear what I couldn't before. I didn't understand much of what she was thinking today because I wasn't fluent in French, but I could feel how nervous she was, so nervous that my own hands shook.

"Are you excited?" I asked. I knew the answer before she said anything. She was terrified.

"No, these people are so important. I'm afraid they'll see me and see my sister. Maybe scream at me to get out."

I wondered what her sister did to be so infamous, and in that moment, I knew, like I'd always known. Her sister was heavily into dark magic, and she was afraid to admit to herself how many people Edith killed before she was sentenced to death by the Council she'd meet tonight.

She chuckled and I smiled at her, but nothing was funny. I could feel what she felt about her sister—an awful concoction of guilt and grief. I had to start the bun over, my shaking hands had made it messy. She closed her eyes as a memory, that I could see as clearly as she could, swept both of us up.

A teenaged girl, who had to be Edith, came into a room with a smaller Emma. Edith kneeled in front of her and pulled a doll from behind her back. Emma didn't smile. It was a creepy looking doll with stringy hair and holes for eyes. She didn't say anything to her sister. Everything was implied. Edith kissed her forehead and left the room. Emma pulled a black candle and matches from the bottom of her toy chest. She lit the candle, crying.

"Christine! Your nose!" Emma yelled. I snapped out of the memory and saw the blood leaking to my lip. A bloody face. Like copies. I struggled to breathe.

Emma bundled tissue into a wad and handed it to me. I pressed it against my nose, pinching, thinking how incredibly ironic it was that I was still afraid of the sight of my own blood.

"Allergies?" she asked.

"Must be," I lied.

She giggled. "Pet dander, perhaps?" I surprised myself by laughing, bypassing Leah's reaction to her making fun of Nathan.

I cleaned my face, washed my hands, and finished her bun, ignoring her thoughts this time.

"Thanks. At least my hair is pretty," Emma said. She frowned at herself in the mirror. I frowned, too. Girls like Emma, beautiful with awesome personalities, shouldn't be allowed to frown.

In Nathan's eyes, and Sophia's, too, I was a girl like that.

I smiled at my other impossible friend. "Are you nuts? You're like... really pretty. And those people are going to love you."

Looking at me with sad and watery eyes, she said, "And if they don't?"

"Then you won't get a job, you'll have to stay here, and I'll do a better job with your hair for the next ball," I said. She chuckled and hugged me. I ignored the tug to listen to her thoughts again and walked her to the door.

"Don't worry. I'll keep the tramps off of your man," she said.

I snickered. Who says tramps? "Thanks. Yours too, I bet." She squinted her eyes and sighed, wordlessly admitting that she liked Paul. "Have fun."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, like she was making a wish in the moment.

My boyfriend was at the door when she walked out. My knees quaked when I saw him. He was handsome. Dazzling. All dressed up in a tux. He'd even combed his hair. It wasn't tossed about, naturally falling in perfect places, like it usually was.

"Wow," I said. He raised one eyebrow. "Just... wow."

"I'll stay if you want me to. I'll just tell Sophia she isn't the boss of me."

"Go. Make your connections or whatever." His hands were in his pockets. I wove my arms around to his back and leaned on his chest.

"Call me if you get scared. I'll make them bring me... home." I didn't risk a glance into his eyes. The moment was too intense for eye contact. He'd never felt at home with John and Theresa. He'd just called this place home, with me, a bloody-faced copy. Before the tears broke through he said, "Why does it feel like I'm going off to 'Nam?" I laughed instead of breaking down.

"Shut up, Nate."

"Draw me something while I'm gone." I shook my head. "Stop being shy. I want to see what you can do."

"Maybe," I whispered.

We kissed, two sweet pecks, and he left. I didn't walk him downstairs. I didn't want to see them dolled up while I was in sweats. Paul would clean up nicely, and Remi would look sexy and grown up. Her tattoos would be showing, and she'd be around my boyfriend, being the exact opposite of me—hot and the right kind of creature for him.

Sophia startled me by popping into my room in a flash of light. If she'd come a few seconds earlier, she would have caught Nate and I kissing.

Her dress matched her eyes. It shimmered like them, too, flowing to the ground in a wave of ruffles. "You look beautiful," I said.

She took my face in her hands and frowned. "I only wanted them to go to the ball because it is extremely unfair that I have them living here for free, dear. They need jobs, and this is the way."

"They don't have to pay me, Sophia."

"I don't want to take advantage of you anymore than I already have." I sighed, and she smiled before I could fight with her about it. "And I would never leave if you wanted me to stay. It's just that it's going to be a hard night for Emma, and I promised her parents I'd look after her," she said.

"Sophia, really, I'm okay. I'll call you if a hunter comes."

She frowned and pulled me closer.

"There's so much magic around this house, a fly couldn't get through the door. Nothing will happen to you. I promise on my life," she said, far too seriously to say that I was supposedly safe here. She kissed my forehead and stepped away. "Three hours tops, dear. Your dinner is in the kitchen."

She waved, and then I was alone. Technically the most alone I'd ever been. I'd had a private room at school, but there were always girls all around me, giggling in the halls, having slumber parties in the common room.

I ate dinner slowly, trying to shave away time. It was 7:14. They'd be gone until 10. I rinsed my plate and turned off the lights in the kitchen. I shivered and watched my breath make circles in the air.

"Not happening," I said. With my eyes closed, I moved slowly up the stairs, ignoring the chill in front of me. It touched my hand on the second floor, and Remi's door cracked open. "Oh, God. I'm psychotic."

Red light spilled into the hall from her door. Curious, I peeked in. She'd taken the shades off of her lamps. The light bulbs were red. Her bed was covered with clothes and tissues. The chill grazed my hand again. It felt like an invitation to go inside. I didn't want to intrude, but... it was my house.

I crept into the room, not sure what I was looking for. Well, I wasn't completely clueless. I had a feeling. I rolled my eyes and followed the stupid, probably psychic, pull to her bed. Under the mess, I saw what was drawing me there.

Her camera, photographs scattered over newspaper clippings, and a huge cell phone with a touch-screen. Much newer than the one she'd had in the kitchen. The clippings were of me. All of them—my face, my robot, Sister Margret's plea for my kidnapper to return me. The high-tech phone turned on with a sweep of my thumb across the screen. I toggled around for a minute and found no numbers saved in her contacts and only one used in her call log and messages. I read them in case they were about me too.

I hope you know what you're doing.

Of course I do. I'm not the silly little girl you think I am. I've wanted this forever. I've followed this witch around until I found him. I'm so close. Nothing will stop me.

It sounded like she'd had her eyes set on Nathan for a while. I dropped the phone on her bed, worried she was getting even closer to him at the ball, hoping Emma had her eyes out for tramps like she said she would.

I gagged as my hand accidentally grazed a tissue. It was soggy and full of green goo. The chill returned. I had to be imagining it, but it felt like it moved my hand to her camera.

I snatched it and the stack of pictures, shivering so hard that my teeth chattered. Then I ran and slammed her door like someone was suddenly after me. It felt like it.

I locked my door, glad it wasn't as cold in here. Without the creepy chill, I wasn't as afraid. I sat on my sofa and turned her camera on. All of the pictures were deleted. Maybe she'd done it after she had them developed.

I flipped through the stack. The first few were of Emma and Paul. They didn't seem to be aware of Remi's camera. They were sitting in a circle of candles in the living room, laughing. I almost called her out of her name when I found one of Nate with his abs exposed and sweaty. He was carrying two thick branches over one of his arms. The next was of him as a dog. He was outside by the pool, the setting sun casting glints of orange on his fur.

The next was of the house. No. I held the picture closer. I was in it. I was the little figure against the open window on the roof. She'd taken it the other day when I was out there.

"Creepy."

The next one was worse. Through a window, she'd taken a picture of Nate and I making out... the night she left, well, pretended to leave. She'd taken several of the gate, the purple flowers braided around the entrance, specifically. Maybe that was the magic surrounding the house. They were placed too perfectly not to be there on purpose. The last one stalled my heart. It was of my door, the top of it, the oil glistening and fresh.

These could be memories she wanted to save, or her obsession with my boyfriend, but it looked like more. Evidence, almost.

With a thought, I raised the pictures in the air, all but the one of me kissing Nate. Fire took them slowly, curling the edges until all of her memories were ash. Inside of me, Leah squirmed, excited by the flame and how strongly she wanted to do this to Remi.

I stared at Nate to silence her.

I swept what was left of the pictures under the feathery rug. I curled up on the sofa, exhausted and worried.

"Nothing's wrong. You're not in any danger. You'll get to keep him forever," I said, lying to myself.

I cranked up the volume on the television to drown out silence and doubt. I let the news play for ten minutes and didn't see my horrible picture or robot. They were talking about money and the economy. Finally moved on from me.

One drop of good news in the sea of bad.

My phone chimed on my bed as I stepped out of the tub.

It was a text from Nathan.

Sorry, babe. I meant to keep in touch. Sophia is being insane about phone usage right now. He didn't reply to my asking how everything was going. I assumed he'd been caught and made to put his phone away again.

I got into my pajamas and sat at my desk. I propped the picture of me kissing my boyfriend against the screen of my laptop. "How do I explain something I know nothing about?" I whispered. My past and my powers were a mystery. And mysteries are inherently more terrifying, wrapped in the suspense of what could be.

Since my past wasn't on the internet, I typed dangerous psychic powers in the search bar. Then I deleted dangerous, seeing how it would influence the results like I had when searching witches and Satan.

I clicked the site called Psychic Powers. It seemed like a good one to start with.

They'd compiled a list of mental powers that some humans, according to myth, possess. Since I was twelve, I'd done nearly everything on the list. It all started with what they were calling psychic teleportation. The next day, the scariest one of all, pyrokinesis, made its debut.

I remembered it being freezing in my dorm that day. Whitney had gone downstairs to see if the girls would let her join their hot chocolate night. I'd thought about fire, and a ball of it flared in front of my face.

I had a story for each of the Claires—knowing, feeling, hearing, and seeing. Hearing was the worst. I'd heard the buzzing for weeks and I finally let it draw me in. Too bad I was in class and screamed when their thoughts overwhelmed me. Sienna had a great time with that one.

I bookmarked the site. I thought I could show Nate and tell him about the first time I'd noticed each of the powers. It didn't have anything to do with killing sometimes, and the times it had, I'd felt awful to the point of making myself sick over it.

I put my head down on the desk, worried about his reaction, and the chill I wanted to believe was all in my head grazed my cheek. I jumped up from the chair. The eerie feeling of fingers pressed against my face, making me slap myself. Then it rubbed the stinging spot, as if to sooth me. I stood there, both sides of my face enclosed in icy hands.

I flailed my arms in front of me. It was like sticking them into a freezer. I didn't know what was more frightening—being insane or the possibility of a ghost being in the room with me.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I said. The fingers moved from my face. Then I heard tapping, like keys being pressed.

Watch your language, dear, appeared on the address bar.

I screamed and scrambled away from the desk. I didn't get far. I tripped over my feet, and the tapping started again. I crawled back to the screen slowly, staying on the floor.

Don't fear me, sweetie. You said you wanted to know your past. I've been trying to help.

"Sweetie?" I asked, half to myself, half to the ghost.

Would you rather pumpkin? Darling? Babe seems to be taken.

The words shuffled out of view as it typed. I was curious now, so I moved closer with caution, growing colder by the inch, and opened a blank document for it to type on.

"Who are you?" I asked.

I have rules to follow, so I can't say, but you can call me CC, honey.

"Honey? Um... do you, did you, live here?" I asked.

Yes, dear.

My breaths became visible in the air when CC came closer and held my face again. I trembled. "Are you Catherine? Are you my mother?"

She left my face. To answer, I guessed.

Against the rules to say, she typed. Call me CC.

"What rules?"

My husband's. He doesn't want me to talk to you. He wants you to find your way without my help.

I gasped. "Husband? Is he a ghost, too?"

Yes.

"Is he my dad?"

Remember the rules, honey.

"Mom, just tell me."

Call me CC.

I sighed. She was close enough again for me to see that sigh float away. It got even colder as she pressed her ghost lips to my cheek. I could feel them faintly push into a kiss. She was definitely Catherine.

"I need to ask you something. What kind of person were you?" I asked. "Am I evil?" Tears fell from my eyes as I waited on her response. "Could I actually ever hurt someone? Am I a killer? Would I ever hurt Nathan?"

She interrupted my questions by typing.

Relax and don't listen to that silly shifter. Of course you aren't a killer. And while we are on the subject of this boyfriend of yours, you could do better. A human would be nice. Perhaps one with more than three outfits.

"Mom! That's rude."

CC.

"Fine. CC, that's rude." It was amazing how easily it came, being annoyed with a mother.

Just strange is all. I've been in his closet. My closet, I should say, and it's bare except for the rags the witch made him. He told you he took food, so considering he's a thief, you would think he'd have more clothes.

"He's not a thief! What do you even want? I'm tired of you already." I said.

Mind your tone, sweetie. And to help you understand. I crossed my arms over my chest. And to help you with that temper of yours. Runs in the... never mind.

"In the family? Or in you? If I'm your copy, that means you had a temper, too."

I'll show you something that will help. Follow me to a door in your closet behind your pants. Trust me. I showed you the ritual so you'd see you aren't like them. I showed you the pictures. He will allow one more thing.

I stood there for a moment. I knew she was gone because the room felt normal again. She'd gone into the closet. I went in, and sure enough, there was a small door behind my jeans.

I wedged my fingers through the crack, and the door creaked open.

It was cold, maybe because of her, and dark inside of the opening. I pulled a candle to me from my nightstand and lit it. I crawled behind the chill, behind my mother, and we came to another little door. It led to another closet. I crawled out of it and into the locked room.

She moved slowly through the dark, creepy like a ghost would, and stopped in front of a light switch. I clicked it on, freezing my hand in the process. More than fifty easels were scattered around the room with stools and paint supplies tossed around the floor. The paintings, some finished, some not, were covered in several layers of dust.

"Are these yours?" She touched my shoulder. "An artist? That's not very hunter-like." Catherine was the reason I could draw and could since I was very young. The nuns had been impressed by it. Art was a copied skill, an imprint she'd left on me.

I crept around the room on my own, eyes on the paint on the easels and the splatters on the floor. I stopped at the door to unlock it. I doubted Nate could get through the crawl space, and he really needed to see this. It would help my case.

As I reached for the lock, a chill crept over me. Not my mother. Something infinitely more terrifying. Something I'd felt before.

I closed my eyes, remembering myself running through the main hall at St. Catalina. Milk dripped from the ends of my hair. I'd just bolted out of the cafeteria after one of Sienna's birds lost her grip on her carton. I didn't cry. I refused to. I was fourteen, not four, and cold milk was better than the hot soup from the day before. Girls experimenting with cigarettes occupied the bathroom closest to the cafeteria. I'd heard them before I made it there. I kept walking, headed to the always deserted bathroom tucked away in the corner of the hall. The haunted one.

It was only a rumor. The nuns had told us a million times that Sister Constantine had died peacefully in her sleep a few years earlier. But the myth was that she'd had a heart attack while cleaning toilets at the end of the school day and wasn't found until the beginning of the next. Everyone avoided it to add intrigue to the story, the legacy of the late Sister Constantine. I avoided it so I wouldn't seem stranger by being the only one to use the haunted bathroom.

But the day I needed to wring milk from my hair, I had no choice. The door creaked, and I shuddered. Not from a rumor. Not from childlike panic. My shoulders curled and my chest caved in. My heart trembled like it wanted to stop. And worse when I approached the last stall. I felt her there. I felt her dying. The smell of bleach stung my nose. My throat hurt like I'd been calling for help and I knew that no one would come for me.

And I felt that same feeling right now in the locked room. Death. Like it had happened right where I stood. It smelled like blood. Enough for the walls and floor to be covered with it, but they weren't. At least not now.

"You... died here," I said. I brought my hands to my throat. It burned like something sliced through it. "God, you... died right here. You were killed in the house. You're... trapped here. Your spirits."

I didn't know if I should cry or not. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't know my parents. They were probably terrible people who deserved to die, but so much of me wanted that to be false.

She touched my hand, pulling faintly, and I moved away from the door. My neck stopped throbbing, and she moved a box in the corner a few inches. Maybe it was all the strength she could muster. I leaned over the box. Among the bottles of dried paint and unwashed brushes, I saw a book with a black leather cover.

I opened it. On the first page, written in neat feminine handwriting was: Diaries are lame, yet here I am writing in one.

The room heated up. My mother was gone. I guessed I'd found what she wanted me to see. And since this was her house, I assumed it was her diary.

I crawled back to my room. The computer screen was mostly blank. She'd deleted our conversation, and typed: Goodnight, honey. Happy reading. Consider what I said about your boyfriend.

"I will not," I said, then deleted her rude message. I knew Nate. She was the stranger, the former hunter, I needed to be cautious of.

I crashed on the sofa, upset with both CC and Raymond. Something wasn't right about this. If she could type, why not tell it all? How they lived. How they died. Why listen to her husband, as she called him, not my father?

If I had a baby and was communicating with her years later from beyond the grave, I wouldn't nag her about her boyfriend. I would want her to know how much I loved her. I'd want to tell her everything about her father, Nathan, obviously, and tell her not to worry about a thing. I'd want her to know she wasn't a copy, I'd say it out right. I'd type, honey I love you, you are my child. And she'd know. But I would be a mother, not a breeder who happened to paint.

I dried my face with my shirt, pissed to the point of tears now. If she could talk to me, why was this the first time? It made sense for a detached hunter to ignore their copy. She didn't even want me to call her Mom. Just like Theresa, Nate's mother who ignores him.

"It doesn't matter who you were, Catherine and Raymond. I've never cared about you and I'm not about to start," I cried. The diary flipped open on my stomach. "Leave me alone."

Her icy fingers touched my tears. She kissed me again before the chill left the room.

# Chapter Nine

It was easier to be upset with her than admit I needed her help. Without her, I'd only wonder what kind of person she was, trying to convince myself that I wasn't a mold of her. But that wasn't true because I had her powers. Reading the diary was the only way I could be sure that I wasn't forcing Nate to be with a horrible person, that I was as sweet as I smelled, and the spice he picked up on wasn't my propensity to hunt and kill his kind.

It would prove that I wasn't going to finally snap one day. I'd have evidence to show Nate that I wouldn't. Or that I would... and I'd force myself to do the right thing and let him go.

After reading the first sentence again, I could hear her voice behind it. She sounded irritated and sullen. Like the kind of person who'd tell her daughter to dump her boyfriend during their first conversation ever.

After lamenting her hate for writing, she wrote:

I hate being a girl. I hate every single thing about it. I hate my hair. I hate my shape. I hate these stupid breasts. I just hate life. There's nothing good about it. No reason to smile or laugh. I hate the sound of laughter, which is why I never do it.

"Jesus, you sound like me. Like Leah," I said. It wasn't looking too good for me.

Every day of my fifteen years of life have been a waste. Because I'm a girl. I've trained so hard, only to be sitting here with nothing. Dad is disappointed, I'm sure, and my mother is loving this.

I slammed the diary shut, pissed.

"Grandparents!" I said. Orphans don't have grandparents. "Where are they?" The word, dead, echoed in my head. I jumped. I really needed someone to teach me how this psychic thing worked. I had a better chance of controlling it if I knew what questions led to answers like that.

With her parents successfully killed off in my mind, I opened the diary to continue.

I'm sure she's getting me fitted for an apron already. Waiting for me to give up on my powers and run home. Not now. Not again. I'll just have to make it work this time. At least my new trainer is a woman. Certain things shouldn't be a problem. She promised Dad they wouldn't. He has paid her well, I'm sure. So hopefully she won't try to auction me off like Julian did. That was the worst day of my life. I was dressed in skimpy clothes while greasy old men shouted out prices. The boys went for no higher than 100,000 dollars. My highest bid was three million. Three million! Because I'm a girl. Because I can make more of me. Even though I wouldn't have to be their mother, I'd still have to carry them. That's gross!

Then Julian closed the bidding. He didn't accept any offers. He said I was worth more, the world, to quote him, and he intended to keep me now. I'd never been afraid of him in that way before. I've lived with him since I was twelve. I knew he was mean. He killed the creatures before they could explain. Even if they begged. I'd seen him hit the boys, especially Kamon, so I knew that could happen one day. Never did I think I'd be too afraid to fall asleep. Too afraid that my bedroom door would open in the middle of the night and it would be time to make copies. There was never any mention of injections, so I assumed the pregnancy would happen the old fashioned way. And with him. So I left. I went home, crawled in bed with Mom and Dad, and cried like a baby.

I thought for sure Dad would make me go back, but he didn't. He held me and told me not to worry. Now he's trying to salvage my career as an agent by sending me to Mona, an old training buddy of his before he quit for Mom. Too bad I hate it. Too bad I'm better than she could ever be and she can't teach me anything. She knows more than Dad, and she's faster than him too, but I've already gotten every mental power there is. But at least she's not Julian and at least I don't have to ever worry about being bred.

I closed the diary and sighed. "Are you still here?" The chill came back in an instant. "What happened? How did you end up with me? How did you die?" The pages fanned back and forth. It felt like she was telling me to read and hunt for the answers myself.

The next entry read:

I can't take it anymore. I've been sitting in this little poor person's house for a month. Mom came here to decorate my room. Pink! The color of female puke. And now I'm dying.

She scribbled all over the page like she'd lost it. I ran my fingers along the puncture wounds where she'd gone nuts with her pen.

"And this is why I'm a psychopath. Thanks, Catherine." At least having a boyfriend for one day was nice. It was more than I'd thought I'd have.

The next page read: I snuck out today. Thank God I did. I may have burned the house to the ground if I was trapped in there another minute. Chicago isn't as hideous as I thought. I walked around when Mona went for yet another meeting. Agents are never home like hunters are. Then her stupid maid left. I hate her. Who needs a maid for such a little house? Four rooms. My mother would have it clean in a minute and she's just a normal human woman.

Catherine was a good artist. She'd sketched a big-city skyline on the back of that page. I wanted to check out more of her art in her studio, but I didn't want to feel their deaths again.

I think I like coffee now. I spent the day at a coffee shop. But that's not why I like it. It's what he asked me for, the guy with the guitar, like I worked there. The nerve of him. He was lucky he was cute. Cute like I'd never seen.

"Babe, we're back," Nathan said, at the door. I jumped up, looking for a place to stash the book. Then I saw the camera sitting on the sofa by my feet and the picture of us I shouldn't have next to my laptop. I wasn't ready to explain why I'd gone in Remi's room and that a feeling and a ghost had led me to her pictures. I snatched the camera and the picture and brought myself directly to my closet. I hid them in the crawl space and moved myself to the door to let him in.

My head spun. I had to grab the doorknob to stand up straight.

He planted a sweet kiss on my lips, and I pulled him inside. I hoped my mother was watching so she'd know she couldn't tell me who to date.

The diary nagged me, distracting me from Nathan. It sounded like she'd met someone she liked, and not someone at training.

He picked me up, finally pulling me away from CC.

"Missed you," he said.

"Missed you more. Was it fun?" I giggled as he nibbled on my earlobe.

"Not at all. It was just stuffy old wizards with money, looking for young wizards with money to take under their wing. Pointless night away from my girlfriend."

"Aw," I said.

"I convinced Sophia that you were sleeping so I didn't have to wait to kiss you. She's gone. I hope you don't mind that," he said. He lowered me down to the sofa, hovering over me in his fancy clothes. Of course I didn't mind. I kissed him to show him I didn't. "What were you doing?"

I ran my fingers through his hair, making him look a little less groomed. "Reading," I said.

"Do you want me to help you with your literature homework again?" He puckered his lips, and I shook my head. I didn't tell him I wasn't reading that. I needed to know more about my mother before I brought anything up. "Did you draw me something?"

"I forgot. Maybe tomorrow."

I was too busy talking to my mother.

He flipped us over in a blur, and I rested on his chest. It was comfortable and natural. Like we'd lived like this for years, not hours. I kissed him softly under his ear, trying to prove to myself that I could be gentle and loving and remotely worthy of him.

He sighed just loud enough for me to hear. "Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"This."

He didn't have to say anything else. I knew what he meant. Today was the first day he'd had someone to be this close to. Someone to kiss under his ear, to notice and appreciate how remarkable and perfect he was. God, I hoped that would matter when I told him the truth.

He recapped every detail of the ball. He'd danced with Sophia and stepped on her toes. Paul and Emma befriended a wizard who knew Sophia well. He and Remi weren't approached.

He couldn't resist the TV for long. I wondered if it was because he didn't have one in his room downstairs, or that he'd been living on the streets without one for a year.

We both jumped when Lydia Shaw's face flashed as he flipped through the channels. He went back, and I groaned. The world hadn't moved on from me.

She was in the middle of assuring the world of its safety. The bottom of the screen indicated that it was previously recorded.

"We are doing everything we can. We have many leads to go on at this point. She will be back at her home very soon. And according to her file, she will be turning seventeen tomorrow. So on behalf of everyone, Happy Birthday, Christine. I know you are somewhere watching. Alive and well."

Christine? She'd called me Leah before. And she said she knew. My heart fell to my ankles. She was psychic. Of course she knew. Where I was. What I was.

Nathan lifted my face from his chest and forced me to look at him.

"What's today?" I asked, instead of screaming that we needed to get the hell out of here.

"March 1st," he said. "For a few more hours."

The air in my lungs came out in an unexpected huff. With everything going on, I'd forgotten March 2nd was so close. I shivered. My first Happy Birthday in years came from Lydia Shaw after a promise to ruin my new life. Right before she deepened her voice on the word know.

"What do you think she knows? How long do you think we have?" I asked.

"Baby! It's your birthday!" he said. "If she knew, she'd be here. I refuse to let us worry about her right now." He tickled me back into the room, away from Lydia Shaw. Then he kissed me hard, switching between his two selves so fast that it dazed me. "Seventeen! I can't believe I didn't ask you when your birthday was. Did you forget?"

I nodded. "It's not a big deal, Nate."

"This is a very big deal," he said. "It's your birthday!"

"It's tomorrow."

"It's in a few hours," he said. He kissed me and stood. "That means I only have a few hours to get you something. I'll see you tomorrow. Lots to do." I whined and pulled him back. He kissed me and pulled away again. "Goodnight, birthday girl."

I ran to the closet after I locked the door behind him. There was something infinitely more interesting than my birthday right now. I brought the diary to bed, and I picked up where I'd left off.

In case Mona or her stupid maid ever finds this diary, which is why I told my mother it was a dumb idea to get it for me, I am doing my best not to mention names anymore. Especially now that I know a name that I never want to forget. A name I want to say over and over again. His name.

Dad taught me to block my thoughts when I was nine years old, so I'll be okay if I can keep this diary hidden. If Julian ever saw this, after what I am about to write, he'd want to find him and... I can't even think about what he'd do to him. Because he can't pay Julian three million dollars for me.

But after he asked me to get him a cup of coffee, I promptly told him that I didn't work there. I left out that I never needed to work anywhere, probably ever. I didn't even want to be an agent for the money. The idea of being stronger than the creatures was always enough. Now, I don't know why I care. After living with a hunter, I should've changed my mind. Agents are different, though. I'd be different, but now... that apron isn't looking so bad.

She didn't want to be a hunter. At least she didn't when she was fifteen. I smiled, hopefully not too soon, and turned the page.

So he actually got up to get me a cup. I hadn't had coffee before. Julian... would DIE if he saw me put that in my body, the body he wanted to keep in tip-top shape. He left his guitar there next to me. I plucked at the strings without my hands on accident. I hadn't been around average humans before him, other than Mom, and she was used to me moving things without touching it. He would probably think I'm a witch since everyone's seen one now.

"CC?" I called. I peeked my head into the sitting room and beckoned my laptop. It moved to me sluggishly. I was beyond tired, and my weak powers reflected that. I had to get under the covers to sit so close to her. "Is he my dad? The guitar guy?" I asked, opening a new document.

Yes.

"He didn't train to be a hunter on an agent?"

No.

"Mom, just tell me all of it. Type it. Please." She reminded me to call her CC again, and I slammed the laptop shut. "I'm not going to call you anymore. It's obvious that you hate me. You didn't even want kids." The temperature dropped around my face, and I turned away. Her kiss ruffled my hair instead.

She left again, and I opened her diary.

He didn't notice the strings. He's unaware of so much. Especially of how gorgeous he is. I didn't have a phone number to give him. I can't have him calling the house. If Mona or her stupid maid picked up, I'd be in loads of trouble. And I don't want anything to stop my first date tomorrow.

Catherine was more endearing in her diary than she was in death. As the ghost of my mother, she was annoying. As the fifteen-year-old coming alive on the pages, she was interesting, so interesting that I couldn't stop reading.

We met at the coffee shop. He had a set to play. He sang a little. It was beautiful. His voice was perfect, almost hypnotizing, enough to steal someone's soul. I didn't care for music until that moment. After, we went to a little shop for ice cream. The place had so many toppings, I couldn't choose. Ice cream! I hadn't had that in years. Then we went to a place down the street for pizza. I was stuffed. I'm going to throw up on Mona tomorrow during our lesson.

On to the bad part. I'm a good liar, I've always known that, but the lie I told him today burned my chest. He's eighteen. Just turned it, but still. I am three weeks away from my sixteenth birthday. I told him I couldn't wait to turn eighteen, knowing he'd think that was soon. I was too afraid to tell him after we kissed in the empty park under the stars, knowing he'd have a problem with kissing someone so young.

Maybe it won't ever be an issue. Maybe I won't ever see him again. I know I want to, but he is a luxury I can't afford. I can't date. Dad warned me that I'd given up that right when I decided to train so intensely. Because I'm a girl, this can't end well. I'll never be normal. Even if I don't train another day, there is a chance that the kids he says he wants to have, the kids I am now imagining could also be mine, wouldn't be normal either. I should leave him alone. I should forget about him. But I can't. And foolishly, I checked the future, and I saw him there kissing me.

"Well... you were right about me," I said. I wasn't normal, and according to her, she didn't have to dope up on psychic powers while she was pregnant to pass them to me. Good news. No, great news! I folded down the corner of that page. It would be the first one I'd show to Nate.

Four words to describe our second date, she wrote on the next page. OH. MY. DEAR. GOD. I love his apartment and that he has no furniture but a little mattress on the floor. I fell in love with him on that little mattress. I cried when it was time for me to leave.

What I knew about CC so far: she painted, ran away from a hunter, and was severely dramatic. I turned the page, and it got much worse. I groaned. She'd written a poem titled: Without him, death is certain. In it, she described the ways she'd die if she ever lost him. Drowning herself and jumping from a bridge were the least graphic.

"You're the reason I'm a basket case, Catherine!" I said. "I can't show Nate this! And you just met him. You can't be this in love." She didn't come back to defend herself.

The next several pages were more poems about him, crazy and obsessive ones. I thought she was in it alone until I read the next entry.

I told him the truth. I told him I would be sixteen in one week. I told him about the powers and training and everything. He broke up with me. And because he's never mad and never raises his voice, I was so confused. I didn't know it was happening. Breakups aren't supposed to be calm. He kissed me on the cheek and told me he loved me but he couldn't see me anymore. He said I was too young for something like this and opened his door for me to leave. He was crying. My heart was bleeding because I'd hurt him.

I fell on my knees and begged him, right there in the middle of his living room. I screamed and cried, and because he's an angel, he forgave me. Then he made me tell him every horrible detail about training and Julian. He cringed when I told him I learned to kill at twelve. He didn't believe for one second that those creatures were criminals like Julian said they were. Now that he knows everything and understands why we can't be a normal couple right now, my life is perfect.

"So... you guys were really in love," I said. "Surprising. Good, but surprising."

Catherine was in love with a normal guy. She'd killed creatures, but because she'd been ordered to long before I came along... I hoped. I wanted to ask her to come back and explain, but I knew she'd only piss me off with her rules. His rules.

I flipped through more pages. I didn't think she could fall more in love with him, but she did. She'd sketched flowers around the edges of most of the pages I came to after he'd broken up with her for thirty seconds. She wrote three whole pages about his eyes, describing every detail. I didn't need to see a picture to know I had the same ones.

The next five pages were about his lips. I didn't read much of it. She was obsessed and far too descriptive, and I didn't care to know what my dead father's mouth tasted like.

We spent twelve hours staring at each other today.

"Really?" I said, rolling my eyes. "Both of you were crazy."

We didn't say much. We just stayed in bed and stared, falling deeper in love. I'm so glad I pretended to be sick. It was the best day of my life so far.

She went on for ten more pages about that day and how wonderful it was to gaze into his eyes. I skimmed it as I shook my head.

I read the next entry closely because of the first sentence: I love being a girl, every single thing about it. She was so different, so soon. I folded the corner down. This page showed that hunters could change and added some clout to my efforts to be different.

He watches me when I walk by, at the coffee shop, at his house, everywhere. He's always watching me. And his thoughts, when I can't ignore them, are always about me and the curves he somehow finds on my skinny frame. I could make him do whatever I wanted. I could control his mind and he knows that. I could make him stop being ridiculous about waiting a year to make love, but I promised him I wouldn't use my powers on him. He made me swear when we got back together. So now I have to rely on God given parts to change his mind. And that's where being a girl comes in handy.

She started to describe her methods of seduction, and I turned the page. She was my mother, and I wasn't in the mood to throw up tonight.

On the top of the next page she wrote, If I died today, the last three weeks have made the last sixteen years worth living. He is my life. He is all that I want. She enclosed that in a string of flowers. It made me think of the painting outside of the locked room.

She started the actual entry under her doodle.

We celebrated my birthday and our almost-one-monthiversary today. It feels like a year. He wrote me a song and played it on the new guitar I bought him. I cried. Today he finally commented on how tired I looked. I told him the truth. I couldn't sleep without him. So he asked me to move in. I said yes. Now I have to figure out a way to tell Dad I'm quitting. Or more realistically, since I can't imagine saying those words to my father, I'll have to trick Mona into thinking I still live with her.

I gathered she'd succeeded in seducing him by the next entry. I only stopped to read it because her tone was different. Not obsessed with him or overly sexual.

It was nothing that I thought it would be. Because I'd thought it would cost someone a good deal of money or Julian would creep into my room and try to father the copy himself. Tonight was everything I thought I wouldn't have. Romance. Love. A choice. And it was perfection. No moment in my life can compare. I couldn't care less about being a damn agent or what my parents would think of him anymore. I'd live in this tiny apartment and love him and only him for the rest of my life.

I folded the corner of the page. Their love was undeniable in this entry. It also showed a side to breeding Nathan didn't seem to know about—that it wasn't a choice women hunters made for themselves. They were forced to, and my mother chose a different life. She chose love.

Indisputable evidence.

"Thank you," I whispered to her. I took the deepest breath I'd taken since I was twelve, when I started feeling like an abomination. Something God and the world hated.

They were crazy, but in love. If this was who I was a copy of, that wasn't so bad. She'd learned to kill at twelve, the same age my powers came, but she stopped, it seemed. This Catherine didn't seem like she would've wanted to make a copy. She seemed like she'd have a baby with the man she loved.

The entries that followed were way too much. She wrote about nothing but their physical relationship for nearly seventy pages.

"Seriously?" I said. "You couldn't have torn these out before you showed this to me?" I didn't expect her to come out now. It was 12:30 in the morning, my birthday, and I was avoiding pages that would've taught me how they'd made me if I didn't already know. She had to be somewhere hiding in shame right now. Raymond, too.

The next entry I stopped on seemed safe to read and happy.

We got married today. He proposed this morning and we were on our honeymoon by sundown. It's not legal, but we bought rings and exchanged them after the vows. We were alone, we're always alone, but it was amazing. He hasn't said my name all day. It's just wife this, wife that. I love it. He couldn't have given me a better 17th birthday present.

She was married at my age. I couldn't imagine being married. They were so young, and it couldn't be too long before I came along. There were only a few pages left since I'd skipped most of the diary.

I haven't written in over a year. I found this diary in a box of old things we never unpacked, she wrote. So she'd be eighteen now. I read it, all of it. I let him read it, too. We laughed about how insane we were, and he thinks I should start writing again since life is getting so stressful. Stressful doesn't even begin to describe it. Julian has threatened me and he knows I'm with someone. Not to mention magical kind have completely lost their minds, and apparently no one can stop them. And I know Julian could, maybe he's too concerned with finding me to care.

He told my dad I owed him at least one copy. That he made me what I am and I ran away before he benefited. Dad has given him millions to leave me alone. Mom finally told me that. Dad would never admit it, even if he were speaking to me. He hasn't said more than ten words to me since I quit training without telling him. It was impossible to do that and be a good wife, so I said goodbye to my dreams of being an agent. I'm happier. I love my husband more than anything in this world. In any world. He lives in hiding with me and never complains. It's been months since we've seen humans other than my parents during awkward, silent dinners. I promised him it wouldn't be forever. Julian will give up one day. I know he will. Then we'll be a normal couple, even have normal kids.

My heart jumped to my throat. I was starting to see where this was going. How they died.

Since Dad finally convinced Mom to ignore me, too, I went to the house. It was empty, but I found them easily. She answered the door and said 'May I help you?' like she didn't know me. She didn't. She stared for a second, but it never came to her.

I told her my name, and she said I had the wrong house. She said they had no children. Then Dad came out, just as clueless. Then he remembered something, not that I was his only child, but that a piece of mail had come for someone by that name.

They closed the door in my face, and I sat on the doorstep and read the letter Dad sent there for me. Julian threatened to kill them if they didn't bring me to him, and now they're hiding, too. He and Mom drank some potion to erase their memories. He wanted to keep their minds safe in case Julian ever found them. Apparently, this was the only way to keep my location and husband a secret.

He apologized for everything, shutting me out for the last few months, even sending me to Julian all those years ago. He blamed himself. He told me where to find money to keep me stable for the rest of my life. He finally admitted how much he liked my husband, and he begged me not to undo what he'd done. At least for as long as Julian was obsessed with me.

I knocked on the door and asked to hug them both. They let me, with curious faces, and I went home to my love. He held me all night. I didn't say a word. I do that a lot lately, just sit and stare. And he'll sit and stare with me, being everything I need. Now I only have him. He's always only had me. I love him more than life, and because of me, he could be killed. Julian believes he is the only reason I won't give him a copy. I'd do anything to keep him safe, even allow my parents to forget me. I wrote a poem long ago about what would happen to me without him. And if Julian wants me dead, this is how to do it: take my husband, take my life.

The rest of the pages were blank. She wrote nothing else. Nothing about me. I tried to fill in the blanks on my own. They must have stayed in hiding and had me. CC knew how to see the future, so she knew when Julian was coming and brought me to St. Catalina. But if she could save me, why not save herself? And Raymond too?

"CC?" I whispered into the air, crying now. I shivered and opened the laptop. "Did Julian find you?"

After an excruciating minute, she typed: Yes.

"My grandparents, too?"

Yes.

"Oh, my God. A hunter killed my entire family." I grabbed a pillow and hugged it against my chest. She typed as I cried into it. I lifted my head to look at the screen.

Not exactly.

"What do you mean? He killed my grandparents?"

Yes.

"My parents?" I waited a whole minute. She didn't answer. "Did he kill your husband?"

Yes.

Julian killed her husband... but not my parents. He didn't kill her. Because of the poem, and her many pledges to not live without him, I asked, "How did you die?" Her chilly hand touched mine, and I shattered. "He died first, and you did it yourself after you brought me to New Haven, didn't you?" My chest burned as I waited for her answer. I thought about the times I didn't want to live. I'd never gotten far enough to plan it, it hurt too much to think about for more than a minute, but after reading her diary, I knew Catherine would go through with it.

Can't say. He doesn't want me to upset you too much on your birthday. How I died doesn't matter. It only matters that you know that the shifter has no idea what breeding is about and that you are not a monster.

"Then what's wrong with me? I want to hurt people. I get so angry. I... literally have to fight to be happy."

She rubbed and froze my back before typing her reply.

You inherited a powerful mind. If I were you, I would stop thinking and saying such horrible things about myself. Seeing as how your thoughts can very easily become reality.

"You killed yourself, and you're giving me advice?" I said. "You should have changed the way you thought, the things you were saying to yourself and writing in your diary. I inherited more than a powerful mind. I inherited your crazy."

You inherited an attitude problem, I see. I've upset you, I'm sorry. I promised him I'd leave you alone now, but I'll come if you call me.

"And... that's it?" I whispered. "You don't have anything else to say to me?"

Maybe I should add that your ancestors are rolling over in their graves as the heir to their fortune houses magical freeloaders.

I grunted and slammed the laptop shut, giving up on having a mother-daughter moment beyond the few kisses she'd given me.

"At least I know they like me," I said. "Go away." She left, and I brought the diary back to the door in my closet.

Back in my bed, I cried because I'd let myself care about them. Before, they were nameless evil creatures, then nameless evil hunters. Now that I knew their story, I felt cheated. She'd learned to love but didn't extend that to me.

I'd met my own mother and still hadn't ever been told I love you. She wasn't emotional to talk to the daughter she hid. She'd given me three kisses, but insulted Nate and my friends, and her husband hadn't come out at all.

I was a copy, technically, but for different reasons than I'd thought. For different reasons than my silly shifter boyfriend told me. I probably wasn't bred to kill. I was just born at an inconvenient time to parents who loved each other more than they loved me.

Fear filled every space inside of me as I lay there. I had more to worry about than Lydia Shaw. Julian was a hunter. If he knew I was Catherine's hidden child, he'd finally have what he'd thought she owed him, a copy.

I'd been afraid before. Of God, of his wrath. But nothing turned my stomach more than the thought of sitting in a lonely cell, being made to kill, forced to make copies myself. I shivered, thinking of how terrifying it must be to be forced to sleep with someone you don't love and give birth to children who wouldn't be treated like children at all.

I could only hope Nate would understand this.

I didn't sleep at all. The sun was up, and I was still crying, more petrified of the hunters than ever. And Catherine's death weighed on me, the heaviest of all my worries. She'd taken her own life and left me alone. My birth didn't change the fact that she couldn't live without Raymond. I really didn't want to have to tell Nate that I was a copy of someone who committed suicide. He'd assume exactly what I was assuming now... that I was capable of that, too.

I'd have to say: Hi, babe. I'm a copy... the thing you said was the worst thing ever. Good news, even though I've wanted to kill several times, I might not be a vicious murderer, unless I somehow speak it into existence. Bad news, my ex-hunter mother was nuts and eventually killed herself. Oh... and in addition to Lydia freaking Shaw looking for me, I'll also have to hide from hunters that would want to breed me and kill you.

Then he'd run away from the crazy girl with the crazy life.

I wrapped myself in the comforter like a burrito, pledging to never come out. If I never saw him again, I wouldn't have to tell him.

Of course, Sophia unwrapped me when she came in. She dried my tears and kissed my forehead.

"Some nights will be harder than others, but you'll get out of this," she said. "Depression won't win." I nodded, going along with her assumption. "I was watching the news. Is it because of what today is?"

"Not really. I forgot about my birthday."

She rested her hand on my cheek and smiled. "I hope this will be the happiest day of your life."

"Thanks," I said, knowing it probably wouldn't be.

I climbed out of bed so she'd stop looking at me like I was about to slit my wrists. "Did you hear Lydia Shaw say she had leads on the news?"

It was silent for a moment, then she laughed. "I'm sure that's just what she has to say to keep the world from having a panic attack."

I followed her into the bathroom. She sprayed cleaner on the spotless mirror and set a rag in motion that continued to streak across the glass on its own.

"Did you hear her say she knows?" I asked, taking my mind off of the harmless magic I wished I had. "She said knows. Like she knows, knows. Doesn't it freak you out that she's psychic? Couldn't her powers lead her here?"

Sophia froze, and her rag paused on the mirror mid wipe. For a moment, I thought she was going to scream and tell me to run. But she smiled, and the rag started up again.

"What on Earth made you think a crazy thing like that?" she asked.

"I thought about it last night after she said she knew I was somewhere alive and well. And it's not crazy. They have powers. Nathan told me."

Her eyes cut to me when I said his name. I kept my eyes up so I wouldn't look guilty. "You two are good friends, I see," she said. I swallowed hard and nodded. "Good." She said good, but her tone said, I'm watching you. "And I swear you're safe here, sweetheart. I give it a few more days until they give up and call off the search. And she doesn't know where you are. I know how to protect myself and this entire situation from psychic readings or any other hunter trick. I understand they won the war, but give my magic a little credit, dear. Trust me. There are no leads."

I sighed but let it go, wanting to trust her and be safe and ignore the feeling that told me that I knew that I wasn't.

I still didn't trust her enough to tell her about the blood test or my parents. I really liked Sophia, but something wasn't right with how she looked at me at times. Now was one of those times.

I dressed as she cleaned and exchanged my sheets for a fresh pair. Like he was waiting on her to leave, Nate knocked on the door seconds after she vanished. I opened it. Not Nate.

Emma smiled, and I managed to return it. "Happy Birthday," she said.

"Thanks."

"I'm being used for my hands," she said. Nathan came from behind her on four legs. I kneeled down to pet him. The smile was genuine now. I hadn't seen him in his friendliest form in days. Perfect. I didn't need to confess anything to this Nathan. I just needed to scratch behind his ears.

"Hi there," I said.

"Hope you have a nice birthday," Emma said handing me a folded square of paper. She skipped away, and I opened the note.

"Good morning, babe. Follow me," I read.

He ran down the stairs and to the kitchen door. I opened it for him. There was another note on the table.

I hope you like pancakes.

I petted him again and sat at the empty table.

"He's so lame," Paul said, walking out of the kitchen. He sat a plate of pancakes in front of me. "He agreed to do my chores for a week if I went along with this." Paul pulled another note out of his pocket.

How am I doing? I thought you deserved some servants this morning. In case you're wondering why I'm not me, I knew you'd convince me to sit and eat with you, and this is all about you. You'll see me later. How's that for anticipation?

"I'm actually glad to see you," I said, leaving out why. He'd given me more time.

Emma giggled and closed the door behind her, a pitcher of orange juice in her hands. She curtsied and poured me a glass. "My lady," she said. "This is very cute, by the way."

"Yeah. Oh, how was the ball?" I asked.

She jerked her head towards the kitchen. "I didn't dance," she said. I frowned. Paul must have not asked her. "But I didn't get chased out with pitchforks. I'd give it an A minus." We laughed, and she went back into the kitchen. Nathan ran in behind her.

I ate the pancakes quickly. None of them were exactly circles, more like lopsided splatters, but they were good. After, I realized I should've eaten slower and made breakfast drag. When this birthday surprise was over, I had to tell Nate about my powers and my troubled mother.

"Dessert," Paul said, sitting a bowl of strawberries covered in whipped cream in front of me. "Not that I ever thought Sparky was cool, but he's lost any chance of it now. Poor guy." He pulled another note from his pocket.

Hey, babe. When you finish breakfast, I have something for you in your room.

I eased each strawberry into my mouth slowly, delaying the inevitable. Emma took my dishes at the sink when I'd nibbled each one to the stem. I crept upstairs. My door was open. I searched for him, but he wasn't there. He'd made a path to my bedroom with pink flowers leading to another note on my bed.

Happy Birthday, Chris. I don't have to tell you that I have no money, you know that. And here is where I resist the urge to mention that you're far too rich to be bothered with someone like me (I just failed). A girl like you deserves the world, and I hope to be able to give it to you one day, but today I have breakfast and flowers from the garden of our next-door neighbor. Don't worry, I grabbed them last night. No one saw.

Thank you for being my girlfriend. I can't believe I get to kiss you. Oh, by the way, you're a great kisser. And I know you're the only person I've ever kissed, but I can't imagine it getting any better. (This is where you resist the urge to roll your eyes). Okay, Happy Birthday, again. I'm glad you were born, and all of those people who could've told you Happy Birthday over the years and didn't missed out. Now, they'll have to fight with me for your attention on every March 2nd from now on. It's my favorite day now. Without it, there would be no Christine to make my life perfect.

I put the letter on the bed and wiped my face. This made it official, I was going to wake up any moment now and all of this would have been a beautiful dream.

"Happy Birthday," he said in my ear. I didn't turn around, I didn't want him to see me crying. "Do you hate your cheap gifts so much that you wanted to cry?"

I shook my head, still caught up in his words. I didn't even think Catherine and Raymond were glad I was born. I'd bet that March 2nd sucked for them. I didn't fit into their love story. I was Juliet's little complication before she stabbed herself.

He forced me to face him, and I smiled. At least he was happy I existed. God, I needed it to stay this way. He lifted my chin and kissed me. His lips were so soft and warm, two things I'd never be able to let go.

My heart squeezed a little. I sounded like Catherine, obsessive and dramatic.

He chuckled against my lips. "You taste like pancakes and strawberries," he said.

"Did you make them?" He nodded. "They were perfect. Just like you."

"The fact that you are completely deluded works largely in my favor."

We laughed and fell naturally into another kiss, a deeper kiss, from my impossible boyfriend that I had so much in common with. We both didn't belong in our families. His, cold and unwelcoming. Mine, full of the kind of love and passion that ends in death and leaves a child alone to worry about the enemies they left behind.

As his lips pulled at mine, slow but electric, I remembered a feeling that seemed so distant now—a constant numbness I hadn't been able to shake until I met him. My heart and been cold and dead, but now it felt like lava slushed inside of it. Alive and in love.

I wanted to tell him. The words were close to spilling out, too soon, but definitely true. Just like my mother, in love way too fast.

His lips slowed, moving to my nose then my forehead. When he gave me a moment to rest, I yawned. I'd been up all night.

"Sleepy?" he asked. I tried to say no with a kiss. I missed his lips, and it landed awkwardly on his chin. He chuckled. "Take a nap, baby. I have three times the chores to do. Part two of your birthday will begin when you wake up."

"Part two? I'm up. I'm ready." But I said that leaning against his chest with no energy at all. He picked me up, pulled off my shoes, and tucked me in bed.

"See you later, Chris. Sweet dreams."

I was in the cabin built for one again in my dream. I rolled over in bed and bumped into Nathan. His beautiful eyes fluttered open.

"Morning," he said. I opened my mouth to say it back, but he was shirtless, and my mind went blank, forgetting everything but how to kiss him. "You know how this goes, babe. If we don't get up now, we'll be here all day."

He crawled out of bed, threw on a wrinkled white tee, and picked me up. He carried me to the table set for one. I sat in his lap as we ate breakfast in the quiet house. After, we went outside to the forest I'd crept through with the birds. He tossed a little rock at me and ran, starting a game of chase. I ran through the beams of light the sun cast through the trees. The black birds hopped around me as I tried to find him. They were chirping, laughing, so was he in the distance.

Pure white butterflies fluttered around me. When they cleared, he was there. We kissed in that beautiful moment, and he took off again. I bumped into him seconds later. He stalled, peeking behind a tree, not at all in the mood to play anymore.

"Shhh," he said. He crouched in front of me. My heart pounded as he pulled a knife from his back pocket. "Come out! I dare you!" The bush ruffled in front of us. "Go inside, Chris!" he ordered.

I ran for the door just as a huge man in black leather revealed himself. Nate charged and tackled the hunter. They wrestled in the dirt, grunting and growling, until the hunter went limp.

"Who's next?" Nathan yelled. "You'll never get her as long as I'm here!" He wiped the bloody knife on his white shirt. We waited, both listening for the sounds of another hunter. We only heard the forest. For some reason, it felt like our forest, like we lived here and had been living here for years, alone and secluded and waiting for danger. Just like my parents.

We went into the cabin and cuddled in the chair in front of the fireplace.

"It's okay, baby. You're safe. It's my job to make sure of it every day," he said, rocking us. "I'll kill a million hunters to protect you. All that matters is that we're together, Catherine."

Nate disappeared, and I was in the chair alone. I walked through the house, looking for him, wanting to yell at him for calling me her name.

I jumped. Two bloody bodies were lying in the hall. A woman with dark curls covered the man completely. I inched closer, crying, and kneeled so I could see her face.

"Mom?" She didn't answer. "CC?"

I nudged her shoulder, and her body flipped over. I gasped. It was more than a resemblance. Her face was the mirror image of mine, and her hand was on a knife that was through her stomach.

I looked over to see Raymond and screamed. He wasn't my father, and that wasn't my mother. Nate and I were bloody and dead in our little home.

"This isn't real. This isn't real," I said until my eyes opened in my room. I wasn't relieved to be out of the dream because most of my dreams had some measure of truth in them. Just this week alone, I'd dreamed of leaving school and I did, that same day. The night after I kissed Nathan in my sleep, we'd kissed for hours in the living room.

I got out of bed, fighting tears. Even the beautiful parts of the dream were frightening. Nate and I lived alone and secluded. That could come true. He couldn't have a normal life with a copy for a girlfriend. And a hunter interrupted our happiness in the dream. That could happen, too. That could happen now.

I thought of Julian with purpose then, wanting to hear something about the man who ruined my parents' lives. I heard nothing.

I'd slept the whole day away. The sun was setting in my room, marking the end of the day and the grace period I'd given myself.

Truth time.

I knocked on his door a few times. No answer. I searched the house. The living room was empty, and the doors to the dining room were closed.

I went into the kitchen and found Remi sitting on the counter, eating an apple.

"Hey, birthday girl," she said, then rolled her eyes.

"Hi." I craned my neck to see if they were out on the patio. Empty.

I turned to leave, but I heard something—buzzing in the house for the first time.

"Were you in my room?" she asked. I didn't answer or turn around. "Of course not. You're not stupid enough to steal from me. Not again anyway. I told you to stay away from him and you didn't. So I guess we'll be scrapping soon. The panther versus the witch who hates magic, should be interesting. Unless you're interested in sharing him."

She laughed, a cackle too close to Sienna's. I shuddered, straining against the part of me that wanted to strangle her.

"He's definitely interested. He told me so last night when we spent two hours in a cramped storage closet together." I spun around. Her face lit up like I was doing exactly what she wanted me to. "No one was really interested in us, so we had time to slip away. Get to know each other a little better. I bet he didn't tell you about that." The clatter around her grew louder. "He has trouble keeping his hands to himself, doesn't he?"

I hunched my shoulders, finally giving some form of a response.

Nate hated her. She smelled like bad milk, so I knew she was lying, but I wanted to hear for myself. Because I could now, I listened to her thoughts.

Look at her squirm. What else could I say about Sparky? As if I'd ever let that dog touch me. I just need to get her angry.

Get me angry? She didn't like Nate?

And around that noise, I heard her devising a plan to make me think they'd had sex while I was sleeping. And deeper than that, in a voice with more tenor, more seriousness, she wondered if that plan would get her what she wanted.

What she wanted?

Now I knew how they spotted hunters. I'd been staring at her dead on, wrapped up in her thoughts, for nearly a minute.

She took another bite of her apple and smiled at me.

Damn, she can really stare.

I forced my eyes away then.

"And his lips! Leah, I can see why you were being so slutty with him the other night. He really knows how to bring it out of you, right?" she said. I tuned that out. What she was saying without words was more interesting.

Why is she always so calm? This is annoying. Oh, I know. I could run upstairs, grab my phone, and steal his boxers. That would do it. I'll scare the shit out of her and get a picture of it.

Not today. I'd been scared enough.

I walked to the island and grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl. That wasn't enough to show her that I wasn't afraid. She was on to my bravery stunt. She smiled and bit into the apple, slow and dramatic.

I'd show her dramatic. I opened the drawer like I needed a knife to peel an orange. As I grabbed it, I wondered how Catherine would handle one of these. She'd trained to be an agent for years. I assumed that meant she used to fight. I wondered if she'd made me good with a knife.

I threw it in the air, feeling certain before I tossed it. It flipped several times then I snatched it. My hand landed perfectly on the handle. The innate hunter in me twirled the knife around my fingers, and I rammed it through the center of the orange as I stared her down.

"I'd had enough after the hair in your soup," I growled. "You can't imagine how tired I am of you, Remi. If I were you, I wouldn't tempt me."

She jumped from the counter and growled at me. It was way less frightening in her human voice. I smiled.

She ran out of the kitchen before I could learn the rest of her plan or what it was that she wanted.

I glared at the knife in my hand. "I can't believe I did that... or said that," I whispered. Before I could freak out about acting like a maniac or Remi plotting against me, the calming scent of the orange hit my nose. It made everything okay, peaceful, like it always did.

Until I bled on it.

It was a thin stream that I was fairly certain Remi hadn't seen, but she'd still met Leah. Witnessed me acting like a copy. "Idiot," I scolded myself.

I pitched the orange into the trash and wiped my nose with a paper towel. I hid it under a banana peel and a crumpled cigarette pack in the trash.

"Christine, my heart," Sophia said, arms open with her happiest face on. I crept away from the trash, dabbing my nostril with my thumb to see if it was still clear. It was. "Here she is, everyone. I found her."

Emma, Paul, and my boyfriend came into the kitchen. Sophia took my hand and led me to the dining room. She opened the doors slowly, her entire face in a smile and her shoulders hiked to her ears.

"Surprise!" they yelled.

They'd filled the room with balloons of every color. Dinner was on the table with a birthday cake, twinkling with seventeen candles, in the center.

"Oh, my God," I said.

We waded through the green strings hanging from the balloons and sat around the table. Throughout the song, I kept my hands glued to my cheeks. I was at a party. My birthday party. It was unbelievable and amazing and I cried because the nuns had always assumed I wouldn't want one of these. And later, I'd assumed since Satan made me, I didn't deserve one. And now, I was somewhere in the middle. Not wholly Christine or Leah, good or evil, sane or crazy.

"Make a wish, my dear," Sophia said. I closed my eyes and made a few: to be safe, to keep him, to keep myself. I blew out the candles, and they cheered. It was almost so amazing that I could ignore the hairs standing up on my arm. Sophia was right next to me, preparing to cut the cake, and I still felt watched from afar.

My instincts said: danger. My heart said: enjoy the party.

Sophia put an arm around my shoulder as Nate rubbed my knee under the table. My heart won that battle.

"Christine," Sophia said, grabbing my hand. "Was it the best birthday you've ever had?"

"Definitely," I said. "No contest."

"Good. I order you to be happy and smile for the rest of this day," she said.

I smiled, but I wouldn't follow that order. I assumed Nate would be upset, and I'd probably get dramatic like my mother and beg him not to leave me.

"I second that," Nate said. His hand moved from my knee to my thigh. I'd have to enforce a no touching rule during my confession, or I'd never get it out.

Remi, danger in distressed jeans and a tank top, stood by the door without coming in, even when Emma offered her cake.

When our eyes met, her mouth twisted into a wicked smile.

I own that witch, she thought. I'll get what I want. I'm in control here and she'll know it soon enough.

She wanted something from me, and I assumed it was money. I wondered if I'd let her intimidate me enough that I'd offer her some obscene amount to keep her mouth closed about me.

I didn't wait for my psychic powers to kick in. I knew the answer was hell no. I was done being bullied.

# Chapter Ten

Besides the stare down with Remi, my party was fun. It was even better when Sophia went home and I could be closer to Nathan.

"We have to go out," Emma said. "You haven't been. Now you're seventeen. You have to come with us!"

I shook my head, sensing the disaster that would be. "Sorry. One day I will. It's too soon. My face is still on the news."

"You guys go ahead, and take Remi with you," Nathan said. Paul held his hand up to high-five Nathan again. He left him hanging again.

Nathan and I stayed in the dining room after they left, feeding each other cake and kissing, until he smudged chocolate all over my mouth. We cleaned up in the kitchen. Paul, Emma, and ugh Remi, came down in their barhopping clothes to say goodbye.

It was hard to focus on their conversation because Remi's thoughts were so loud. She was angry, shouting in the kitchen about her missing pictures and camera without moving her mouth. Her mind felt... chaotic and diseased, the polar opposite of what it had been earlier. She'd been plotting then, but calmly. Now, she was in the midst of a storm none of us could see. I pulled away from her clatter, fearing my nose would leak in front of them.

"Happy Birthday," Emma said, pulling a green gift bag from behind her back. She held it out to me then snatched it back. "Sorry. It's more of a gift for Nathan."

She smiled, and Paul snapped them out of the room.

I reached in the bag and pulled out a red bikini. He smiled.

"Is this part two of my birthday?" I asked.

"Nope," he said. "Emma whipped you up a swimsuit for me, but you were sleeping so long and Sophia called about the party. So it's part three."

"Isn't it cold?"

"Not tonight. And the pool heats up and it's impossible to be cold around furry animals." I laughed. "Not that I thought you'd say yes, but I have preheated it."

He kissed me and I folded. Of course I couldn't turn him down.

"Meet me down here in ten minutes," I said.

I ran to my bathroom to shave and stare at myself in the mirror. I needed more boobs for the top. And I was not made to wear a red bikini. Copies of suicidal women should wear black. I looked ridiculous, but I wrapped myself in a towel and went downstairs.

I wanted to run back up when I saw him. He was too perfect to stand next to. Muscles... everywhere, but not too bulky. Just right. Just perfect.

"Ready?" he asked. My answer stalled. I was still staring at him, following the defined lines from his chest to the top of his black trunks. "Is that a no? We don't have to swim. I'm sure there's something on TV."

"No. Swim. Sure," I babbled.

We walked to the pool. I was too terrified to drop the towel, so I couldn't hold his hand. And what did he mean it wasn't cold? It wasn't serious-winter-cold, but it was definitely too cold to be in a swimsuit.

He turned to jump in, and I saw his bare back, his bare back that had claw marks from his right shoulder to his lower left side.

"Did Remi scratch you?" I screamed. "I'll kill her!" I couldn't breathe or feel anything but rage. I was near combustion. I racked my brain, trying to remember what bar they said they were going to. I needed to find her and leave remnants of panther all over the dance floor.

"Baby, relax. Those aren't scratches. I was born with them. Birth marks," he said. He reached out to hug me, but I dodged it, going around him to see his back. Two of my fingers fit in each of the four scratches. And they were definitely scratches. Definitely injuries, but old ones.

My eyes watered. "Did John and Theresa do this?" I was about to say I'd kill them, too, but it didn't come out. Thank God, because he was laughing, making me feel like a psychopath for being so angry.

"Birth marks, babe. I can't remember a time when I didn't have them. They didn't do this. They didn't abuse me." He kissed my forehead and chuckled again. "Look at you, trying to protect me from grumpy panthers and parents. You're so cute, but I think I could take 'em," he said, flexing his biceps.

He jumped into the pool, and I sighed. My face could be bloody and terrifying like Paul described. He had no idea how un-cute I could be.

Nate, I'm a copy, I should have yelled. He would've heard me, but the thought of saying those words curled my insides in the most painful way. I wouldn't be able to say for sure that he was safe from me, nor that I was safe from myself. All I had was: My parents were in love. I am in love. And I will try to be different and not act like a copy every day of my life.

I watched him in the water as I trembled, remembering every beautiful moment we'd had together. Playing fetch, popcorn and TV, making out for hours. Coming to life, like Catherine did with Raymond, history repeating itself with her copy.

"It's warm," he said, snapping me out of the fog I'd entered. "I swear. Get in here, beautiful." I adjusted the towel, pulling it tighter. "Okay... take your time."

He swam away to the other end of the pool. I pulled off the towel, calmed by his voice, by him calling me beautiful, but wishing I'd taken up working out as a hobby. I dipped my toes in the warm water. I didn't see him until he was close enough to grab me. He yanked me into the pool. His sneaky smile should've warned me that he was about to push me under.

He pinched my nose and the warm water rushed over my head. I could hear him laughing. Even though I felt safe, I kicked and squirmed until he pulled me up.

"See? I told you it was warm." I splashed a pathetic amount of water on him. "Do you know how to swim?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of isn't good enough," he said, chuckling. "So we'll stay in the shallow end. Unless... you want to learn. I taught myself recently, in a lake. I was taking a bath and just decided to swim."

"So... you were skinny dipping?"

He laughed and winked. I looked down at the water. I would miss his eyes the most.

He nudged my chin up with his finger. He rubbed my cheek, and I puckered for a steamy moonlit kiss. He laughed instead. "You have a little snot situation happening."

I groaned and went underwater to hide from him and wipe my face. He pulled me up, laughing, and we wrestled in the water as he tried to reach my nose until a swim lesson began.

He led me through a series of leg kicks while he held on to my waist. I knew how to swim more than I let on. We had mandatory lessons years ago. I just didn't want him to let go.

When he did, I grabbed him and rested my head on his chest, enjoying the last moments before I complicated our easy relationship. It grew quiet enough to hear the sounds of the night—trees and wind and bugs. Because he was perfect and could sense what I needed, he lifted me up on his back. I lay there as he swam. We didn't speak, just enjoyed the peace, the calm before a storm he wouldn't see coming.

It eventually became too cold for the pool or Nathan to warm me. He wrapped me up in my towel and carried me inside. He put me down in front of my door. "Is this goodnight, birthday girl?" he asked.

"No, I want to hang out... and talk."

He didn't seem to notice the dread in my tone. He kissed me and ran to his room to take a shower. I left the door unlocked so he could come in if he finished before me.

Mere minutes could be all the time I had left with him. And I'd be alone again. Lonely. Worst case, he'd feel obligated to turn me in. No, worst case, he'd shift and try to handle the abomination on his own. I'd have to be quick, explain, show him the diary. Pray.

And I hadn't allowed myself to freak out about Remi. My hands rattled in the shower. She could turn me in, report that she'd seen me, and I'd gone psycho hunter on her with a knife.

Who was I kidding? I couldn't act all tough with her. She had the upper hand. Everyone else in this house would keep my secret because they'd been asked to. Not Remi. She obviously had other plans. Good thing I was a millionaire. I'd pay her for Sophia's sake and everyone else who could be home when the hunters came to collect me.

"How much would shut her up?" I whispered as the water beat down on me. I heard nothing. "What can I do about Remi?" Her name echoed in my head, again and again, getting louder, drowning out the water, bringing whispers and buzzing into the shower with me. Then I heard her.

She was thinking of so much. The drink she ordered. Potato skins. How much she hated me already.

I let the noise pull me closer, and I could see the bar. It made me dizzy. I lost my footing in the shower and grabbed the towel rack for balance.

My plan is shot to hell, she thought. She sipped out of a beer as Emma and Paul danced near her. The image was blurry, watery, but I could see her drumming her long nails against the table. I can't believe I failed. I just want to go home now. Without the pictures, he won't believe they're not human. I couldn't even get in her room. That's probably where Sparky hid them. It will take too long to get new pictures on my phone. Giving these idiots to him was the best way to thank him for making me human. I have nothing now.

Human? That was why I could hear her. She'd done the purging thing and wanted to turn us over to hunters. That was why she wanted to make me upset. She wanted me to do magic in front of her. She needed a picture of that.

I wanted to know more, but her thoughts turned to faint whispers in my ear, and the blurry bar distorted even more. I strained to hold on. I shook all over—my hands, legs, all of me. My head hurt like crazy, like it was ripping apart. I strained harder as her thoughts muted more and my vision rattled with the rest of me.

I bit down on my tongue from the shaking, almost seizing, and had to let the final traces of her thoughts float away. I kneeled down so I wouldn't fall. Pink water swirled around the drain. My nose poured blood. My mouth did, too, so much that it coated my chin and neck.

I curled up in a ball on the floor of the shower, breathing deeply, trying to regain control of my muscles.

My shower song came to me then. I hummed it at first, then sang, as the shaking subsided and my tongue stopped throbbing. I used my hand as a cup to bring water to my mouth. I swished to clear the taste of blood. My nose stopped, too, and I sat on the floor of the shower, scared and stunned, until I realized I couldn't stay in here all night.

I nearly fell twice as I dried off and slipped into my pajamas. I tried to pull it together when I heard the TV from my room.

I made the mistake of sitting on the bed and couldn't get back up. "Nate," I whispered, so he wouldn't think I was ignoring him in here. He heard me over the TV and came into the room.

"You okay?" he asked. I nodded with my heavy head. "You don't look okay." He sat next to me and pulled me to his lap. I wanted to believe that I'd just gotten really worked up about hearing thoughts and I did not just make myself have a seizure or some bloody, psychic fit. But I knew that wasn't true. "You also don't sound okay," he said.

"What do you hear?"

"Your heart is a little off. But I can't really go by that. Your heart is always doing funny things around me." He flashed his sneaky smile again. I was too tired to roll my eyes, so I closed them. "And your breath smells weird."

"Ouch."

He laughed. "It doesn't stink. It smells metallic. So either you're a vampire or something's wrong in there. Let me see." I tightened my lips and he tried to pry them open. "Come on. Open up. It's my job to take care of you. I need to see," he crooned.

"It's not your job!" I snapped. My eyelids weighed a ton, but I forced them open. He snatched his fingers from my lips and looked away. I sighed. "I mean... you don't have to take care of me. You're not obligated to." He looked like he didn't really know what to say to that. And he shouldn't. I'd just gone off like a psycho. Like a copy. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to be a burden on you. I don't want to be this thing you have to take care of and protect."

He pecked my cheek. "Okay," he said, like it was solved and done with. "I'm sorry."

"No, babe. You didn't do anything wrong." I groaned and sat up in his arms. I almost fell back, still dizzy. Holding on to his shoulders, I poked out my tongue, like I should've done without freaking out on him. "I bit my tongue in the shower," I slurred.

He rubbed the sore spot with his finger. "Yikes. It's pretty deep. Does it hurt?" I nodded and retracted my tongue. "I know you just said that you don't need to be taken care of, but you do realize I can fix that, right?" I chuckled and stuck my tongue out again. "My mostly useless magic takes some concentration, so don't kiss me."

He slid his tongue over mine, and I moved in to kiss him. He pulled away and shook his head. I held still as his magic, that wasn't useless to me, did its work on my self-imposed seizure wound.

"Nate. We need to talk," I said.

"Do you realize that you're talking in your incredibly cute, sleepy voice?"

"I know. My shower was... eventful. That's what we need to talk about."

He chuckled and growled. "I don't need to think about you in the shower any more than I already do." I managed a sluggish giggle. "You're going to be singing in my dreams now."

"Why?" I asked, losing the battle with my eyes.

"You sing very well. Was that a lullaby I heard?" he whispered, his beautiful voice echoing in my head like a dream.

"Oh. Yeah. I sing that all the time. I made it up."

"I'm not one to judge, given my sock friends, but you made up your own lullaby?"

I shrugged my shoulders. At least, I'd meant to shrug my shoulders. I had made the song up, hadn't I? I didn't remember doing it, but I'd always known it wasn't something I remembered from the nuns. They didn't sing to me. I was Leah to them, the crier, a nuisance. My throat tightened thinking of Catherine and Raymond. I knew in that same moment, without a hint of doubt, that the song had come from one or both of them. How would I remember that?

The answer came to me, draining me even more. I could remember it because I wasn't normal and I hadn't been normal then.

That reminded me of what I needed to tell him—I was psychic and what we had was built on a lie that could dissolve at any moment. It could be because of Remi. She could come up with another plan. Or Lydia Shaw could knock on the door, led here by her psychic powers. Then he'd be hurt... and I'd...

I really didn't want to say die or admit to myself what I thought would happen to me without him. What I'd seen in my dream.

"Baby... my parents. I think they sang to me. That's good news because I..."

"Shhh," he said and laughed. "You're totally drooling on me, Chris." I felt the covers pull over my shoulders and his lips press against mine. "Goodnight, baby."

"No," I said. "Don't... go."

"You wouldn't mind me in your bed with you?" Was he in the sitting room now? He sounded so far away.

"No. Come back."

The bed heated up in a moment. "I'm right here." He pulled me closer and I gave in, slipping into the warmest sleep of my life.

Soft snores tickled my ear, and I opened my eyes. The lights and the TV were still on in the sitting room. Nate's hand was tucked under my rib.

Crap. I'd failed again. Didn't tell him... again.

I turned around carefully, trying not to disturb him. He was even more beautiful asleep.

The fire I'd feared for years seemed to swirl around my heart now. I smiled at my sleeping boyfriend, and a tear fell from my eye. For some reason, some deep and nameless reason, this felt familiar. Lying with someone in bed, love in my heart, love all around me. It made me want to sing. So I did. Softly, I whispered my shower song. It felt like it belonged here. In a bed, with your heart sleeping right beside you.

As I told him to dream his little angel dreams, another verse leapt to my tongue.

My heart is yours.

My life is, too.

No one will hurt you.

This is true.

Sleep in peace as angels sing.

My love. My everything.

I knew in an instant I hadn't made that part up either. I shivered, wanting to scream at CC, yell at her for killing herself, yell at her for leaving me alone. Nate's arms tightened around me, and my eyes flew open.

His were filled with tears.

"You love me?" he asked in a weak whisper. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I was still shaking from the song I'd remembered and trembling more now because he'd heard me. "No one has ever loved me."

He sounded nothing like my Nate, not upbeat or goofy. He sounded incredibly wounded.

"I love you," I whispered.

He closed his eyes tightly, like he was refusing to cry.

"I love you more. I have loved you for days. I will love you forever."

Love.

Nate loved me.

And if he loved me, I had a better chance of keeping him now. He could tell me anything about himself, ask my forgiveness, and he'd have it. No question.

I kissed him hard, saying thank you, saying I love you even more than I did before.

He pulled away after a minute, but I followed him. I rolled myself on top of him and tangled my fingers in his hair.

He rolled us back to my side without moving his lips from mine. His hands slipped under my shirt, warm on my back. I wrapped my legs around his waist. That seemed to set a fire between us that changed... everything. The innocence we had in the pool faded. Our kisses were longer, deeper, infinitely hotter. His lips moved to my neck, and I tightened my legs around him.

I slipped my hands under his shirt and trailed my fingers up his scars, raising the back of his shirt to his shoulders. He shrugged it off the rest of the way.

This position seemed to have one inevitable ending that we were speeding towards way too soon. The nuns had called this one-thing-leading-to-another dilemma The Slippery Slope.

I thought back. They'd given specific instructions on how to stop plummeting down the devil's pathway. Step one. What was step one? Nate bit my lip a little. Damn. Why did I want to remember step one? He moved his hands slowly down my back, and I shuddered.

Oh, right. I wanted to get off of the slope because I'd only met him two seconds ago, and I was lying to him about everything. I was really human, and if how close we'd been before wasn't illegal, this would certainly be enough for Lydia Shaw to remove his beautiful head, maybe mine, too.

Then I remembered that step one started with a V, like Virginity. Vertical. Step one of getting off of the slippery slope was move you and your lustful partner-in-sin to a vertical position. I lifted up and we slowed. Nate rolled away to the other side of the bed.

What do you know? The nuns knew something after all. They knew how not to have sex.

Step two. I remembered there being giggles in the assembly at this point. Step two was breathe and place a barrier between you and your lustful partner-in-sin. I grabbed a pillow and hugged it against my chest.

He pulled his shirt over his head, inside out. "Sorry, babe," he said. "I lost it."

"It was me. With the legs. I'm sorry." The look he shot me said, don't ever be sorry for doing that. I smiled. "I think we should um... talk about it," I said, moving on to step three—openly communicate with your lustful partner-in-sin about boundaries. My boundaries would be a lot more flexible than the nuns imagined, but we should at least talk about them. Then we'd have a plan... if he didn't break up with me after I finally told him the truth.

"Right. Okay. So the leg thing, that was great, but it sort of made me lose my mind. Did I upset you?" I shook my head. "Would you tell me if I did?"

"Yeah. It wasn't just you, Nate. I lost it, too. So how long do you think we should... uh..."

"Wait?" he asked. I nodded. "Who do you want to answer that question? Your boyfriend or your best friend?"

"Both."

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Well, your best friend thinks it should happen sometime in the distant future when it's right and you trust your boyfriend that much. And it should be planned out so you two can be careful."

"And my boyfriend?"

He pulled me closer, pressing his nose against my neck. "He'd say now was a good time, and he hates your friend for putting that stupid distant future idea in your head." We laughed, and he kissed me softly. "But he loves you, so, so, so, so much, and wouldn't want you to do anything too soon. And he feels like dirt for mauling you just now."

"You did not maul me, Nate." He propped himself up again. He closed his eyes and half smiled, half winced.

"You must not feel that I totally unhooked you back there." I felt my back and the hanging straps under my shirt and gasped.

"When did you do that?" He half-chuckled, half-groaned and shrugged. "That is in a way, impressive, and in many ways, very creepy and concerning."

"I told you, I lost it." I re-hooked my bra, laughing at how embarrassed he looked. "I can't believe I did that. I should go."

I pouted. "Please stay. I promise not to attack you again."

His kiss seemed to mean, attack me any time you like.

I wanted to laugh at how the nuns' step thing worked. We were fine when we curled up under the covers, all traces of smoldering heat gone.

"Tell me this is real," he said. "Tell me you can fall in love with someone this fast. Tell me I won't wake up from this and be living on the streets, hungry and dreaming about someone like you."

I should've said it then, the truth, but this was real. Despite the lies. And to have him get up and leave in this moment would be death, more pain than Sienna or Satan could ever cause. "I want to be yours forever," I said, the truest words ever spoken.

"Works for me," he whispered, as he bundled my feet in his.

I fell asleep in his arms as my powers told me to dread tomorrow. I could almost hear the thunder from the storm that was soon to hit.

I reached for him when I woke up, but he was gone. Sophia was humming a sweet melody in the bathroom. He must've crept out of bed before she came.

I turned over, face down into the oversized pillow he'd been on. I held it like it was Nathan. Tears pushed at my eyes, thinking about what I had to tell him today and that I may have to deal with the Remi situation on my own after he broke up with me.

"You went swimming?" Sophia asked when I forced myself to get up and drop the Nathan scented pillow.

"Yep," I said. She looked like she was expecting me to say more than that. "It was fun. That's what you wanted, right? Me to have fun?"

I went into the closet and shut the door to get dressed. "I didn't imagine that fun would include a bikini. Where'd you get it?"

"Emma made it," I said.

"I'll have to congratulate her. This is good work. She's been practicing. Believe it or not, creating clothing is pretty advanced magic. The seams are perfect. Expensive fabric. Since there aren't any tags, I'll assume I should hand wash it."

I cocked my head to the side. I hadn't thought about it having a tag. I guessed that made sense. Tags were from designers and manufacturers. Witches wouldn't need to make them. I looked inside of the purple shirt I was about to pull over my head. It had a tag. I searched through all of my clothes then. They all had them.

"Emma loves to swim," she said. "She's always talking about the beach or something." Sophia laughed, her sweet, trusting laugh, and I pulled on the shirt. My clothes having tags wouldn't make her a liar, and God knows I didn't need another problem to deal with today. "She told me you two were becoming good friends."

"Yeah. She's great." She went on about Emma, and I tuned her out and opened the little door in my closet. I pulled out Catherine's diary and checked the pages I'd marked.

"Did you hear me, love?" Sophia asked, right outside of my closet. I hid the diary and pushed my jeans to cover the door.

"No."

Slowly, I walked out. She looked over my shoulder before looking into my eyes.

"I said I had a few errands to run, and I'll be back later. Maybe later than usual."

"Bye," I said. She kissed me on my cheek and left with a snap.

I sat at my desk, watching the door, waiting for him to knock.

"CC," I said, knowing she'd come if I called her. "Do you think he loves me enough to look past it?" I shivered and opened the laptop.

You've let the slightest thing interrupt you. You're psychic, so you know exactly what will happen, and you're avoiding it. And that's wise. He could tell someone your secret. It's best if you two just break up, if you ask me.

I sighed and closed the laptop. "I'm sorry I said anything. You don't have to worry about me talking to you anymore."

She left again, going back to her husband who had yet to acknowledge me, I guessed.

If the daughter I hid with all of my riches asked me for relationship advice, I'd be encouraging. I'd bring up the time it worked out with her father. CC was someone completely different than the girl who wrote in that diary. Maybe Raymond's death had changed her. I shivered as I wondered if he'd died while she was pregnant and she'd had to wait to kill herself, dreading living with life inside of her.

I rocked back in my chair, startled out of my skin, when Nate knocked and sang my name.

I'd never walked slower than I did to answer the door. He picked me up and showered my face with kisses. It was the happiest I'd ever seen him. Great.

"Last night was the best night of sleep I've ever gotten in my life. Almost eighteen years of laying my head down and no night comes close. Maybe because of the song." He put me down only to wrap his arms around my waist. "Oh! Guess what I dreamed."

"What?"

"You were running in this blue ball gown and jumped in the pool. Then you climbed out and tried to scramble eggs outside on the concrete. It was so random."

Our fingers locked together, the most effortless action ever.

"That is random. Why didn't I just go inside?"

He chuckled. "I don't know. You just really wanted those eggs, I guess. I expected to see you eating that this morning. Now at least we know I'm not psychic like hunter-scum."

The silence was so tense that I thought he might figure it out right then.

I stared at our hands. The wounds I hadn't felt in days stung suddenly.

He threw me over his shoulder before I could say that we needed to talk. CC was right. I was avoiding it, and I had an idea of how he'd take it.

He jumped down to the second floor, making me giggle against my will.

"Is that Chris?" Emma asked. "Nathan, bring her here." He took me to Emma's room and sat me down on the bed. For some reason, that made me giddy. I never used to sit on Whitney's bed. It had always felt like I couldn't, like we weren't close enough for that. Nate sat next to me, and Emma cleared her throat. "Out. This is girl talk. No Nathans allowed."

He chuckled and walked with his hands on his hips, twisting, to the door. "Au revoir. You have exactly five minutes, Emma, and I'll be back." He kissed his fingers, in a very French sort of way, mocking her.

She snapped her fingers, and the door slammed in his face. "So... the pool?"

I smiled at my hands. "It was fun."

"Fun... like?" I groaned. "Come on. Dish."

"Fun like, being in a pool with your boyfriend... then spending the night with him." She squealed. "With your clothes on."

"Booo. Well... it was almost interesting. Next time I'll make the bikini a little racier." She sat across from me on her bed, tucking her legs underneath her. "I also had an interesting night," she said and sighed. "Remi ended our friendship. After everyone in my life—my parents, Sophie, Paul—told me to leave her alone, she comes in my room and says that she hates me and that we're done."

She laughed and shook her head. "That's a good thing. She's..."

"She's something," Emma said. "Really something. I wanted to help her, but you can't fix that kind of crazy with dancing and margaritas. I mean... the girl actually likes getting captured. It's like a hobby of hers. I thought it was fun until I got around normal people again."

She winked at me, but I wasn't normal.

"Anyway, I don't expect her to stick around much longer. I just wanted to tell you because she also said some things about you. She told me to watch my back around you. She said you were crazy."

She fell back on her pillows, like she wasn't afraid at all, like she didn't believe Remi. She needed to believe Remi.

"Enough girl talk," Nate said outside of the door. "I'm hungry."

"Eat without her," Emma yelled.

"Not possible. I can't seem to function without her. She's my life."

In unison, Emma and I crooned, "Awww."

He was smiling like that had been a joke when I opened the door. I still jumped in his arms, kissing him. Enjoying this while I still had it. "I love you," I whispered, nervous and unsure if he'd say it back again.

"I love you, too."

I smiled and exhaled loudly. "Let's get breakfast and talk. We didn't do much of that last night."

"I remember that being your fault," he whispered.

Paul walked up behind Nate, nodding suggestively, and slowly raised his hand for the high-five he hadn't gotten yet.

"Please, just do it," I said.

"Yes!" Paul said, when their hands smacked in the air, like he'd won a prize or something.

If I had to choose a moment I didn't want to end, it would be this one—in my boyfriend's arms after saying I love you, my friend smiling at us from her room, Nate also connecting with someone after years of being alone like me. But my instincts told me that all good things must come to an end.

And the doorbell reminded me that I was psychic.

# Chapter Eleven

The four of us just stood there for a moment after hearing the impossible sound. None of us needed the doorbell. My mind went to the worst of scenarios—that Lydia Shaw was behind the door.

"Paul..." Nate said. Paul nodded and went down the stairs at the same moment as Nate closed Emma in her room. Then he sprinted up to the third floor and closed me in mine. I couldn't stay inside.

For one, I was sure if something happened it would be my fault. And if we were going to survive this, everyone should be in my room, where my enemy couldn't get to us.

I ran down the stairs, slowing when I heard the commotion. Remi struggled with Nate to get to the door. "Get out of my way, Sparky. It's for me," she said.

"Why the hell would you invite someone here?" Nathan asked. "How did they get in the gate?"

"I opened it. Get over it," she said. The doorbell rang again, and the front door opened. Whoever it was, brought a lot of noise in with him. His thoughts blasted like the kids at school, like humans, like Remi. "Liam, you're right on time."

"He's not coming in this house," Paul said.

"Hello, Remi," the guy said, in an English accent. "Introduce me to your friends."

"Trust me, I don't have friends," Remi said. Liam sized up Nathan and Paul in his mind, wondering which was the dog and which was the wizard she'd told him about. And he was... excited. Thrilled, really, to meet them, to know that Remi hadn't made them up.

He was a hunter, the hunter who'd purged her, the guy she wanted to impress. I almost ran down there, feeling completely capable of ending this right here, right now, but I remembered I was a missing person. A missing copy.

"Come in, Liam," Remi said. Her thoughts were loud too, telling her plan to lead him to the other two prizes upstairs. She didn't have time to take new pictures, so she was letting him see for himself.

I thought about what would happen, and I saw it. It had been days since I'd been pulled into a vision. Whitney giving me the mask was the last one. But I was different in this vision. I didn't curl up and take it. Not even close. I raised her hunter friend, who must be a dirty blonde with gray eyes, into the air and forced his body through a window. Blood and glass scattered on the living room floor. I stalked away from him to Remi. Fire flared from my hands, and Nate ran out of the door in a panic. Then Paul and Emma followed, leaving me alone again.

I pulled out of the misty vision and caught my breath.

I couldn't be that person. Not if I wanted Nate to look past me being a copy. Not if I wanted to keep my other friends, too. I didn't bother running to my room. I needed to move faster than that. I opened my eyes in front of my desk and grabbed my phone.

Sophia had stopped me before. I needed her again.

"Hello, my love," she said after one ring.

"Sophia, I need you."

"What's wrong, dear?"

"I know this is going to sound weird, but I know for a fact that Remi is no longer a panther, and the person who changed her is in the house."

The phone made a startling noise in my ear, like something was wrong with the connection.

She flashed into the room and inspected me in a panic. "I'm fine. Nate and Paul are down there."

"Lock the door," she said and vanished.

I sat on the floor and tucked my head between my knees. I hadn't prayed in days, but I needed to now. I'd needed to the entire time here. This whole situation was dangerous. Everyone was at risk, especially the guy I loved.

What if something happened down there? Something I could've stopped by opening my mouth sooner? Something that would be my fault because I'd pissed her off? What if he was hurt? That was enough to get me up and out of the door.

And I ran. Eyes closed and fingers crossed, on my way to kill. I'd been in this dark place many times before. In the cafeteria, countless times in a classroom, and in the halls. God, the halls were the worst, people bumping me, provoking me. But those kills would've been selfish. This would be for all of us. This hunter had to go. This girl had to die.

I collided against a body. I opened my eyes and still couldn't see, still raptured in the rage I'd fought so hard. But I could feel him, his arms, his hands, and Christine couldn't help but respond to him.

"Nate," I said. He kissed my cheek and carried me back to my room. I wrapped my entire body around him, elated to see him in one piece. "What happened? Is it over?"

"Sophia threw the guy and Remi out. Everything's fine." I wasn't entirely sure, but I thought I felt Nate sniff my neck. "She was actually already packed."

I didn't imagine the sniff, he did it again. I unhooked my legs from his waist so I could have his full attention.

"Nate, that guy! She brought him here on purpose. That idiot!" He tightened his arms around me and kissed my cheek again.

"I wouldn't have let anything happen. I think he was just here to pick her up," he whispered. "She left on a motorcycle with him."

"Did he hurt you? I swear if he did—" Nate chuckled.

"You have no idea what you're doing right now, do you?" he mumbled.

"No. Nate, tell me more about what happened down there. What did the guy say to you?"

He kissed my neck and chuckled again. "Let me see if I can get the accent right," he said. "'ello there, 'ole chap. I'm Liam. I smell like old, rotting meat. I'm 'ere for Remi." He laughed at his horrible impersonation of Liam—who he couldn't know was a hunter or else he'd be panicking right now. "Sophia walked into the living room and went nuts on Remi. Now she's gone, said she's moving in with her new boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Did she say that?" He nodded against my neck, and his hands moved lower on my back.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you? If he did, I swear I—"

"You're doing it again," he whispered. "Your angry voice. You can be unbearably sexy at times. Did you know that?"

I sighed, losing my focus because he had none. "I'm not always sexy?"

One of his hands traveled up my back, all the way up to my face. "Typically, you're adorable and sweet. But I've noticed that when you're angry or your temperature hikes for... other reasons..." He kissed my neck. "You smell more like spice than cake batter." He sniffed me a third time. "It's unreal how great you smell then. I almost want to make you mad just to get another whiff of it."

I smiled. That was a new take on my anger. Sexy, not murderous. I could live with that.

He kissed me, softly at first, then hard enough to rock me on my feet. Of course I kissed him back. I didn't want to be rude, even though he was being incredibly random, drunk almost.

I pulled away and caught my breath. His eyes were on my lips. "Baby," I said, trying to get us back on topic. He moaned and chuckled.

"That just makes it worse. Baby. Nate. Any affectionate term in your voice makes me feel... important. Loved."

He'd won. Pulled me in. "You are important. You are loved," I said. I let him take my breath away, making me forget I had a care in the world. I tangled my fingers in his hair. He growled, picked me up, and pressed me against the door.

Just as I wrapped my legs around his waist again, Sophia cleared her throat.

"Sophia!" I said. "We... um..." Nate put me down and stepped in front of me, like he was protecting me from her.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault, Sophia. I promise," Nate said. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I broke the rules. I'm sorry. Should I pack?"

"Go to your room, Nathan. Yes, you should pack, because everyone is leaving. But right now, I need to speak with Christine alone," she said, in a voice I'd never expect from her. She sounded terrified.

Nate left with his head down. It was silent in the room for a moment until Sophia sighed again.

"I'm sorry," I said. "We got carried away."

"You can't date a shifter, dear," she whispered. "He's a nice boy, but not for you."

"I love him," I said.

She chuckled without humor. "Love him? Even better. You are going to get me killed. That's how I die. Not the war. Not bribing hunters. It's going to be you."

"I would never hurt you, Sophia."

"I know, love. You wouldn't." Her phone chirped in her pocket, and she jumped. She looked as spastic as I did at school. "I know," she said to the caller. "I understand. I'm handling it. Goodbye." She straightened her dress with her trembling hands. "Come sit, sweetheart." We sat on the sofa, and she grabbed both of my hands. "Did he see you?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"No. I stayed up here."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'll handle it. Don't worry. She won't turn you in. If Remi is with a hunter who purges now, she won't be going anywhere near the actual agents. Everything is fine. But... just to be sure, I'm going to take you to your other home in California."

"Is everyone going?" She shook her head and kissed my hand.

"This is all my fault. I shouldn't have brought them here. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but they can't go with you."

"No! I want them to come. All of them. Especially Nate."

Her phone went off again. She jumped again, more rattled than before. She listened for a moment, her face twisted in pain. "Vaughn. Her name is Remi Vaughn. Human. She wasn't before. She is now." Sophia's free hand balled into a fist. "I didn't know until a few minutes ago!" She huffed into the phone. "Christine told me."

Sophia's husband or whoever that was must have been very upset. Her eyes watered as she listened. She closed the phone without speaking again. Maybe the caller had hung up on her.

"I have to go, sweetheart. I'll come back later." She snapped and grabbed my hands again. "I put a suitcase in your closet, but I'll pack for you when I come back. We can discuss Nathan then."

A tear fell from her sparkling eye just before she vanished. At least she saw how horrible this was. I ran down to Nate's room and walked through the open door. Paul and Emma were watching him pack.

"Paul says we're headed to Texas. We're going to stay at Sophia's house for a while," Nate said. "She said you were going to California, right?"

"Yeah." I sat on his bed and folded a pair of jeans for him "Do you... want to go to Texas?" I asked.

"Nope. I want to go with you, but I heard Sophia. I heard her say you can't date me. She doesn't think I'm good enough for you."

Before I could disagree, Paul smacked his lips and Emma sighed loudly.

"She would never think a witch is better than a shifter. I'm sure she doesn't have anything against you. It's not in her nature," Paul said. "I'm not saying this because she's my grandmother, but she's an angel. She didn't come out of hiding when the world embraced magic, so she was one of the few of our kind with a job for like a decade. Our house stayed packed with all sorts of creatures needing her help. Some were shifters just like you."

"It's true," Emma said. "She wouldn't act that way with you. She only ever wants to help. She even got my parents out of jail. Not a cage, like a real prison. I can't imagine how much that cost, and she's never asked for a penny. And she's spent thousands on me alone, just from this year. She would never be rude to you, Nathan. She's just weird about Christine. Very protective."

Nate sat next to me and covered his face. "I know! And she walked in while I was all over her prized possession. I'm lucky she's even letting me go to Texas."

"I'm not her prized possession," I said.

They all grunted. Paul nodded sarcastically. "Sure, you're not. She only threatens her own flesh and blood for you. Risks getting captured for you. Acts like a completely different person for you. And Nate just told us this is your house! Now, it's even stranger. Nana's TVs at home don't even have color! And since your parents died years ago, I know she had to get all these flat screens for you."

I hadn't thought about that. Why would there be flat screens here if my parents died when I was a baby? And they were here before I came. Or at least by the time she gave me the tour. And everything was clean, not much dust other than in Catherine's studio. And wasn't there a big storm and flood here a few years ago? This house didn't look like it had gone through a hurricane and been vacant until now.

"Thanks for letting us stay here," Emma said. "We really didn't know until Nate just blurted it out."

"I can't believe you didn't mention it," Paul said. "If this were my house, you guys would know it every day. Every time you sat on something, I'd say you're welcome."

Emma smacked his shoulder. "And I'm sorry about Remi, Chris. I feel responsible. He could have seen you. She told me she had a new boyfriend the other day, a wizard she wanted me to meet. I didn't think she'd bring him here."

That was the last thing I heard any of them say. They didn't know what Remi was. They didn't know about her friend. They didn't know just how much danger they'd just been in. And me, too. Liam could be the kind of hunter who would want to breed me. Maybe he even knew Julian.

I shivered.

I assumed Paul and Emma left to pack, I hadn't heard them say. My boyfriend stuffed the clothes on his bed in a little duffle bag. He walked out of the room and came back with a toothbrush and deodorant.

The selfish part of me wanted to cry about him leaving, Paul and Emma, too. I knew he'd hold me and treat me like the victim I wasn't.

"We'll have the phone, babe. Or I'll catch a bus to California. Or... would you use magic to come see me?"

I couldn't look at him and lie flat out, so I said, "No."

"Okay. I understand." His shoulders fell, and I reached for his face.

"You think you're not important enough for me to use magic, don't you?" He nodded.

This would be where I would clam up. I'd be silent and deceitful for his love. His smile. But that could have gotten everyone in the house hurt today. If I hadn't called Sophia, and finally said something, they could be in cages and I could be wherever breeding happened.

"You are important enough, Nate. You're the most important person to ever have lived to me. When I say I can't use magic, I mean that literally."

"I understand. We'll work it out," he said, tempting me to let it go. I reached up to kiss him. His response was immediate. Sweet and soft. Possibly the last.

"I love you," I said. "And that's really amazing because I didn't even think that would be possible for me. In a really short time, you've changed my life. Made me smile and laugh. But—"

He groaned and touched a tear I hadn't felt. "Let me guess. I'm a nice boy, but just not for you."

"No, listen."

"I know Sophia is great. They didn't have to praise her. She saved my life already. And yours, too. So I understand if you want to listen to her."

"No, Nate. I'm not breaking up with you, but once I tell you something, you may want to break up with me." I stared at his flawless face, my heart pounding, tears streaming. "I've been trying to tell you something. Not very hard, but I've wanted to say something important. I've been really dishonest about who I am. I've been selfish because I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to go back to not having anyone. And today, I could've gotten you hurt. All of us."

"I don't understand, babe. What's wrong?"

I looked away, trembling. "I can't use magic to come see you... because I don't have it. I thought I was a witch, but a few days ago, right before you walked in and saw me bleeding, I found out I'm not. I'm... human. More than that, I'm one of the things you think are disgusting. Psychic. Like my mother was."

We sat there, tensed, for a lifetime.

"Are you joking?" he whispered.

"I wish." Another agonizing pause. "I'm not like the copies you talked about. My parents loved each other. And I do get very angry, but I am always trying not to be. Always, Nate. I swear. And my mother didn't pass me her powers in the way you'd think. I read it in her diary. I could go get it. You could read it with me." He still didn't say anything. "Breeding is different than you think. The whole copy thing, it's so different, Nate. And I understand if you're upset. I should have told you the minute I found out. I'm sorry. I love you."

I desperately needed to hear him say it back. I needed him to be my glue, to fix everything like he'd done every day since we played fetch.

"No, you don't," Nate whispered. He stood from the bed and moved painfully slow and painfully far away. "You can't. Copies don't love. They don't feel anything but hate." He leaned against the wall with his head hanging low. "The first time I saw you, I thought it was eerie how perfect you were. Like someone took exactly what I'd find attractive and delivered her to me, or me to her. Then made her smell like perfection. Act like it, too." He chuckled and looked up at me. "There is no God controlling this. It's you. And I think you're perfect because you are. The wolf told me they drown copies if they don't come out right. They have to be absolutely perfect, or their masters hold them under water until they die."

I ran to him when I saw the tears.

"It's not like that. I don't have a master. My parents made me," I said, quoting Sophia.

"I just should've known something like this wouldn't happen to me. Of course I don't have a girlfriend. Why would I? Did you make me think I was in love with you? Is that why we were moving so fast? A mind trick?"

"No!" I cried. At least I didn't think it was.

"Jesus, what is your master planning for us? Is Sophia helping you? Or are you going to hurt her, too?"

"It's not like that. I just found out." I wrapped my arms around him, clutching his t-shirt. "You have to believe me. I'm the same person I was a minute ago."

"Stop touching me," he said, pushing me away. "You have us in your home, pretending like we're guests. Letting me sleep in your bed. That's really gross. Really twisted!" He gasped and rubbed his neck. "My head! I'm getting my head cut off, aren't I?" I couldn't move. This was way worse than I imagined it would be. His beautiful green eyes were burning with more than disgust. With hate and hurt and fear.

"Nate, no. Please listen to me. I love you, and I would never hurt you."

"You can stop with the act now, Christine or Leah or whoever you are." Leah? I was her again? I was nothing again?

He snatched his bag and ran out of the room. "Get out of here!" he yelled. "She's a copy. Go!"

I ran into the hall, toward the commotion he'd caused by yelling. He blew past me and ran out of the front door. I ran down the stairs, no hope of catching him, but still running, because I needed him, because I couldn't let us end like this. He'd left the door open, and I raced to it. At the threshold, a frozen arm hooked around my stomach. I almost screamed at Catherine, but this chill was different. This ghost was different.

I fell to my knees in the doorway, acting like my mother way too late. The door closed in front of me slowly, nudged by my father. It felt like it meant, don't be silly and run after him, you still can't leave the house.

I had to stay hidden and alone. Like I was meant to be.

Emma and Paul never came out. The eerie quiet of the house told me they were gone, too.

Being tortured by high school girls was not death. This was. Having everything snatched away in a moment. Having Nathan look at me like he hated me. Being told not to touch him.

I stretched out on the floor, crumbling. It felt like Raymond stretched out, too.

"Go back to your wife," I whispered. "The lady who killed herself because of you. I'm fine here alone. And I'll be this way for the rest of my life."

But he didn't leave. He stayed down there with me, just far enough away that my teeth didn't chatter.

Nate thought I wanted to hurt him, that all of this was my trap. I'd immediately turned evil in his mind. I'd never be held again. Kissed either. I wished it had never happened. Then I wouldn't know what I was missing out on.

I ran out of tears after a while. I was just coughing and calling for my ex-boyfriend who couldn't hear me.

"Emma called," Sophia whispered. Raymond left at the sound of her voice. I didn't have enough energy to stand or move at all. "She's worried about you. Are you okay, love?" I didn't answer. Wasn't that obvious? "How long have you known that you're human?"

"A few days." She kneeled next to me and brushed my hair out of my face. "You?"

"Your whole life. It's a long story. I'll tell you when you wake up." I wasn't tired until she'd said that. She kissed my forehead, and my eyes closed. "That's it. Don't fight it, love. Just sleep."

# Chapter Twelve

I stretched my dead arms and legs in the softest bed I'd ever been in. I opened my eyes in an unfamiliar room. Everything was pure white or crystal. Expensive and modern.

My head was pounding, so the crying and the breakup hadn't been a nightmare. It least I wasn't suicidal. Yet.

I would've burst into tears again if the pillows didn't smell so wonderful. Like oranges. Like peace.

"Sophia?" I said, when I stopped sniffing, convinced I was imagining the scent because I needed it so badly.

The double doors of the bedroom opened, and Sophia poked her head in. "You're finally awake?"

"Finally?"

She came in and pulled the covers back. "You've been out a while. It's Sunday, the 4th. It's almost three in the evening." That would explain why my body was so heavy.

"Where are we?" I asked. "California?"

"Paris, dear."

She grabbed my hand and helped me out of the high bed. Once down, I ran to the window to see Paris. It didn't disappoint. We must have been high up. My view was of rooftops and the heart of the city, like photos from World Geography of the tourist-y part of Paris. Or maybe all of Paris was picture perfect like this.

"Why are we here?" Sophia closed the curtain and took my hand. She led me to an all white bathroom and started the shower.

"We'll talk about everything when you get out," she said and smiled, relaxed and back to her normal self. Maybe because I wasn't groping and getting groped by a shifter.

Ouch. It hurt to think of him. Like knife in my chest, hurt.

She walked out, leaving the door open. I undressed anyway. I had to adjust the water in the shower. It was way too hot. In the process, I wet my hair. I decided to wash it since I'd drenched half of it.

I grabbed the clear bottle on the ledge, guessing it was shampoo. It only took a drop for it to wrap me up completely. It was, hands down, the most wonderful thing I'd ever smelled. Better than Nathan. And it didn't hurt to think of him anymore. Nothing was wrong now, and I had the strangest urge to curl up and sleep. It was ten times more potent than any orange I'd ever smelled. Like oranges only mimic this scent.

I forgot to rush so Sophia could explain everything. I took my time, lathering the shampoo everywhere—in my hair and all over.

"Sophia?"

"Yes?" she said, in the bathroom, closer than I expected her to be. But I didn't jump. I was too calm to jump.

"Did you make this shampoo? Like with a spell?"

"No, love. But if you like it, I can get you some."

"Please."

She handed me a towel through the curtain. I reluctantly took it and shut the water off. She turned away from me, and I slipped on the black panties and bra she had waiting on the counter. She wrapped my hair in the towel and shook my head fast and in crazy directions. We laughed for a moment like my world hadn't ended and she hadn't been lying to me for days.

Sophia tapped the arm of a chair pushed up to the mirror. I smiled when I realized she was about to comb my hair. "I'm sorry about Nathan," she said, parting down half and clipping up the other. "I found him a few miles away from the house. He's with Emma and Paul at my place. Don't worry."

"He hates me."

"He's a boy. The male species reacts incorrectly ninety-nine percent of the time. He'll realize it, and you'll have to decide if you want to forgive him or not. Though... I think I know what you will choose." She reached in the cabinet and pulled out hairspray. This apartment or hotel was very stocked. "I'm sorry about what I said about you not dating him. I'm partly to blame for his mood. I had no right saying that."

"I get why you did. No Contact, right?"

She nodded as she very gently combed through my curls with more skill than I had.

"I wouldn't worry about that either. I was just a little wound up at the time." A little? That was the biggest understatement of the year. "I'm glad you called me about Remi. I know you could've handled it yourself, but it was very wise of you not to." She chuckled unexpectedly. "You pack a lot of power in this little body of yours."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

Our eyes met in the mirror, and she looked away a moment later. She sprayed more of the hairspray that I wished smelled like the shampoo.

"I wanted to take things slowly. I didn't want to take you from school, tell you about your inheritance, and reveal that you were wrong about your powers all in the same night. So, I lied and got the kids for you, but it wasn't something they should know. And I didn't want you to have to hide anything."

It sounded very orchestrated when she put it like that. She'd made it seem like they'd needed a place to stay before. Now, it sounded like they were there to keep me company.

"You know... of all the humans like yourself I've known, you are by far the kindest," she said. The comb snagged in my hair. She apologized with a kiss on my cheek. She pulled back to my ear and whispered, "Nothing like your mother at your age."

I turned around in the chair, and she smiled. Immediately, I saw what I should've seen the moment I'd read it in the diary. Sophia was the maid Catherine hated. She turned my shoulders, making me face the mirror, and continued combing through my hair.

"That word Nathan called you, copy, you are not one, love. I can guarantee it. She was nothing like you. She was rude and spoiled. She made sure I knew how rich she was in the first five minutes of knowing her. In the first five minutes of knowing you, you gave me ten thousand dollars." She was smiling at my hair when I looked up. "And you let me kiss you and hug you. Your mother and I didn't get along at all. She was fifteen going on sixty and... she was my boss. I couldn't believe I had to answer to her, and that she got more respect from the agent I worked for than I ever would."

She unclipped the top half of my hair and sectioned it off as well. She got to work on the left side, and I decided to let her talk without interrupting with questions.

"I've worked for agents for over forty years. Cleaning, assisting, whatever they ask of me. They pay extraordinarily well. Especially these days."

I turned around, and she smiled again. The job she went to every day was with agents? Wow.

"For years, I loved my job, until I met your mother. She used to spill juice on the carpet while I watched her. Knock things over just to order me to pick it up." She laughed again, and I chuckled. CC was still as annoying. "Anything to get a rise out of me." She sighed, and the smile drained from her face. "But she grew up eventually and disappeared."

"With my dad," I said. She nodded. "Why did you say you didn't know them?"

"I didn't know your dad. I saw him once, but I never met him. But I did lie about knowing your mother, and I'm sorry. That first night, you were too fragile to hear that you weren't a witch, and I couldn't even begin to fathom how you'd take learning about copies and breeding. I lied to protect you. How did you even hear about it? The kids?"

"I tested my blood," I whispered. "Nathan told me the rest." She bent down and kissed the top of my head, shaking hers like she knew how much distress that had caused me.

She worked through the last section of my hair. She opened a drawer and pulled out a tin of hairpins. "Life is sometimes very complicated, Christine. And for some of us, it's down right bizarre." She pinned my hair back in a sophisticated bun. She'd missed some strands in the back, but it worked with the hairstyle. "I'm sorry I've told you so many lies. About your powers. Your parents."

While I stared at her, her eyes watered. She went to the open door of the bathroom and pushed it closed. My heart sped. She was being incredibly creepy. A red dress hung from the hook on the back of the door. She unzipped it and held it open for me to step into. It came just above my knees and all the way up to my neck. It was sleeveless and sophisticated and way too dressy to wear in a house. Then there were the shoes. Black pumps with red soles. She kneeled down and put each one on slowly.

She rose with a strand of pearls in her hand. She clasped them around my neck and kissed my cheek again.

"Sophia, what's wrong? Where are we going? What are we doing in Paris?"

"You look beautiful," she said, ignoring me.

She walked me out of the bathroom and through the room I'd been asleep in. I noticed the bed was made.

The rest of the, wherever we were, was just as nice. Fancier than my house, but smaller. An apartment for sure. I didn't think they made hotel rooms this big. Or maybe they did in Paris. The sleek and modern design stretched into the living room with sparkly lamps, a thinner than air television, and a long white sofa.

We stopped at another set of double doors. She took my face in both of her hands and smiled.

"Just breathe," she said. "You'll get through this if you just breathe."

"Sophia, you are freaking me out. What are we doing?"

She straightened the pearls on my neck and tinkered with my bun. "Meeting someone important." She turned me to the door and opened it. She rubbed my back for a second, then her hand lifted. I looked behind me. She was gone.

I stepped into the dining room slowly. I wasn't alone. A person, a woman, with long blonde hair was standing at a window with her back to me. She was thin and had on a sleeveless black dress. The backs of her arms were well defined. I was immediately afraid.

She turned around, and my heart stopped. I couldn't run, or scream, or bow like I was supposed to. Lydia Shaw was even more frightening in person.

She smiled and waved, and tears fell from my eyes. "It's okay. Don't cry," she said. "Can we make a deal? I won't listen to your thoughts if you don't listen to mine."

I nodded, admitting to her that I wasn't the innocent girl from the news. But she knew that already. Lydia Shaw knew things like I did. Maybe she'd known this whole time and had Sophia deliver me to her.

"Do you know Sophia?" I asked, my voice as weak as I felt.

"Yes."

"Does she work for you?"

"Yes."

My throat closed. My heart pumped so violently that I thought I'd pass out. "I can prove that I'm not dangerous. Too dangerous to exist."

She stepped closer in fancy black pumps, like the ones on my feet. I closed my eyes. I wanted Nathan's face to be the last thing I saw.

"I don't think you're dangerous," she said. "I wanted to have a nice dinner with you. To meet you and ease your mind about my agents and hunters. Sophia told me you were very worried about me."

"You're not going to kill me?" I opened my eyes slowly. She smiled and shook her head. Her stare sent a chill up my spine. She looked fascinated by me. Looking down at my nice dress, I broke. I remembered my mother's story of being auctioned off by Julian. I wasn't in skimpy clothes, but Sophia primped and groomed me for her. I was her prized possession. A thing. And things can be sold.

Sophia's betrayal burned. So did the thought of being treated like an animal and being forced to sleep with someone I wouldn't know. If I were to sleep with anyone, it would be Nathan Reece, even though the idea of that would make him vomit now. Regardless, he would be my choice, and like my mother before me, I would choose. I'd make sure I got the chance to.

I opened my hands and pulled two knives from her fancy place settings into them.

"Christine, give me those. Everything is okay," she said.

"I'm not for sale. I won't be bred!"

"Bred?" she asked, looking confused. "No one is selling you." Her face was concerned now. It was hard, even in my terror, not to notice how pretty she was. "Did someone threaten to buy you?"

She came closer, and I raised the knives. Then I noticed how incredibly nonthreatening they must've seemed to her.

"I don't care who you are. My mother didn't let it happen and neither will I."

I felt weak and defeated as she pulled the knives from my hand. "How do you know about that?" she whispered.

"My mother, CC, told me. She showed me her diary."

She looked shocked and scared. Not like she wanted to buy me or hurt me at all. Her honey colored eyes filled with tears. I shivered. There was something familiar about her eyes this way, watery, but certainly she'd never cried on the news or anything I'd seen.

"You've been talking to a woman named CC?" Her voice cracked, and I nodded.

"Okay... honey," she said. Honey? "We need to talk about her."

"You knew her?" I asked.

She wiped her eyes and whispered, "Yes." I hadn't thought about my mother having friends. It didn't seem like she would. Lydia could be an acquaintance of hers from her training days, but most acquaintances probably don't tear up at the mention of a name.

"The woman you've been talking to is not your mother," she whispered. I had to strain to hear her, and it took me a moment to register what she'd said. I didn't know if I believed her or not. I didn't know if I wanted it to be true or not either.

"She... is. She... has to be," I said, hanging on to CC for some unknown reason. She wasn't very nice. She didn't say she loved me. But it was terrifying to think I'd been talking to a ghost that had been lying to me. Even more terrifying to think none of that had really happened and was a part of a psychotic break. "She has to be," I said, hanging on to my sanity now.

"Sophia," she said. A moment later, our maid popped into the room. Her eyes were red and frightened. I didn't know whether to hug her or punch her in the face. "Conjure my mother. Now."

Why the hell would we need to talk to her mother right now?

Without hesitation, Sophia made a circle on the floor with red candles as they appeared in her hand. She crept around her circle, whispering something that wasn't even close to English or any other language I'd ever heard.

Sophia's candles flickered then died out completely. From the smoke, a figure formed. A woman with shoulder length blonde hair, older than forty, hovered inside the circle of candles. I could see through her to the other side, to Lydia Shaw. The ghost had on heels and ankle length white pants. Her jacket was pink and blue, paisley pattern.

"This is a nice house. It could use a little color on the walls," the ghost said. She looked over her shoulder to me and smiled. "Christine, dear, I'm sorry about the shifter. I'm not one to say I told you so." She looked around the room, scrunched her face up at Sophia, then relaxed it when she faced Lydia, who was weeping now. "Liddy! What a nice dress. It would look better in a brighter color. Black is for funerals, you know?"

Lydia came closer and held my face in her hands. She pressed her forehead against mine. I was frozen. Confused. Not breathing at all.

"She's not your mother," she whispered. "CC is short for Cecilia. Her name is Cecilia Shaw." She stared at me, looking like she wanted me to put something together. But my brain was disconnected. Offline. Completely missing from whatever was happening around me. Even my body was confused. I felt both hot and cold. My heart was both pounding and had stopped all together.

Sophia wrapped an arm around my waist, joining our huddle. I turned my face to her. She mouthed, Just breathe.

I looked at Lydia, then back to Sophia, then at Lydia's hands on my face. The ghost was Cecilia Shaw. Cecilia, like my middle name, like my fake name—Cecilia Neal. Sophia had said it was my mother's family's name. My mother's family. My mother. I gasped and looked at her.

My legs gave out.

I wasn't listening to Sophia's advice. I wasn't breathing. This couldn't be real. Lydia Shaw couldn't be the girl from the diary. The girl from Sophia's story.

She met me on the floor and pulled me to her chest. "I'm sorry, baby. Breathe." I tried to speak, but before I opened my mouth, I smelled her. We were in her home because that was her shampoo, and that scent on her was perfection. Like I'd been sniffing oranges, hoping it would smell like her. She watched me as I brought strands of her hair to my nose. "You remember me, baby?"

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. Fight her, but I couldn't. What pissed me off the most was that I wanted to crawl to her lap and sleep. I wanted her to hold me. Like I'd wanted it forever.

But I hadn't. Had I? I didn't know Lydia Shaw outside of being the scary woman from my history books. She couldn't have a child. A copy.

"Where was the diary?" Lydia asked her mother.

"You stashed it with some of my things that you've never cared enough to go through. I bet you would've found it if it were in your dad's things," CC said, in her snooty voice.

Shattering in Lydia's arms, I remembered everything CC had told me. She'd said Julian killed my grandparents. She never said she was my mother, she was actually very adamant that I didn't call her that.

"I'm sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you like this," Lydia said. She pulled me tighter, and I started to give in, to let her rock me to sleep and make this better, but she kissed my forehead and yanked me back to Earth.

Lydia Shaw was my mother. She wasn't dead. She threw me away. And when I almost got into trouble, she sent her maid to fetch me. She had Sophia stash me in a house and occupy me with people. She was controlling this unbelievable situation. Not God. Nothing in my life hurt more than knowing my mother didn't want me. Not bullying. Not Nate hating me.

She'd thrown me in hell, St. Catalina, because she wanted to be a hero and have chapters in history books and be bowed to like a saint.

My heart picked up and drowned out every sound in the room. I pushed her as hard as I could and crawled out of her arms. I stood and stumbled in my stupid high heels.

Where could I go? Back to school, the dumpster she left her copy in? New Orleans? Florida? It didn't matter. I wouldn't fit in anywhere. I wouldn't be wanted anywhere. By anyone.

I closed my eyes and opened them in my closet.

I unzipped the suitcase Sophia had left for me. I threw my clothes inside, the clothes with tags I should've questioned more, from the maid I should've questioned more.

The cracks in my heart made me cough and choke on tears as I fell to my knees. My breaths lingered in the frosty air, and the other ghost touched my hand.

"You're Cecilia's husband. Lydia's father," I whispered. My teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms around me. "Is my father alive, too?" Faintly, his head ruffled the top of mine. It was a nod. I fell back on my butt, completely destroyed, and he rocked me—as good as a ghost could rock. "Why does no one want me?" I asked, because it was obvious that no one did. Not friends, not boyfriends, not parents.

He grazed my palm, and I held it open for him. Slowly, his icy finger wrote My fault in my hand.

I turned to where I thought his face would be. I didn't really know what to say or ask. I just sat there in his arms, freezing and confused. I felt low, like the nothing I always was and would always be.

"Christine," Lydia whispered at the door of my closet. "Is... is there someone in here with you?"

I pushed up to my knees and threw the rest of my clothes in the suitcase. "Your father."

She kneeled next to me, looking around the closet. I rolled my eyes and pointed to where he was. I thought I'd use this distraction to get away from her. Slip out of here while she wept for her father.

"Don't pack. Please let me explain," she said.

"Explain what? Why I don't have parents?" She didn't say anything. What could she say? "Why you two didn't want me?"

"He has no idea," she said. "I left him before you were born." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, like someone was strangling her. "Let's sit and talk. There's so much you don't know." Her father rubbed my back, and I shivered, from cold and from anger.

I opened the secret door in the closet and pulled out her diary. She gasped, and I flung it at her. "I know more than enough about you. You're rude. A good liar. Obscene, to put it mildly. Completely psychotic. And I know more than that about you. I've had to study you for years. Congratulations on ending the war, by the way. I assume you had me sometime before that. Was I a bad copy? Wasn't perfect enough for you? Should I thank you for not drowning me?"

"You are not a copy, and I would never hurt you," she said. I rolled my eyes at Sophia when she walked in.

"Whatever. I... just want to go away. You don't have to talk to me. You can still pretend I don't exist."

"Lydia, we need to let her see the truth," Sophia said.

"No, it's too much for her. She can't handle that."

Sophia pulled the suitcase out of my reach. "She's stronger than you think."

After a moment, Lydia nodded to her, and I stood, ready to run again, away from whatever they were about to do to me.

"Relax, sweetheart," Sophia said. She cupped her hands and brought them to her mouth. "It will not hurt. Trust me." She smiled and blew into her hands, sending a gust of powder into my face.

It tickled my nose, made my head spin, and I collapsed into her arms.

# Chapter Thirteen

I opened my eyes in a heavily decorated kitchen. Pink roses were everywhere—the wallpaper, the curtains, in a vase on the table.

"Hi, love," Sophia said. I spun around. She was leaning against the counter with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Where are we?"

"In your mother's head." She held her hand out, and I clicked across the kitchen to meet her, still in high heels. "If we're going to go through her memories, we have to start with the first day she remembers."

I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. "I don't want to see her life. I don't care."

Sophia grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it. "It will help you understand what led her to hide you at your school." I rolled my eyes. I wouldn't call abandoning a child to become famous, hiding. "You won't have to see every day. Just highlights. Okay?" I shrugged. It wasn't like I had a choice. I didn't exactly know how to get out of her brain.

A little girl with blonde hair, maybe four years old, ran into the kitchen with us, leaving a mud trail behind her.

"Lydia, slow down," a woman yelled, Cecilia, I guessed. She ran in after her in a white dress and pink heels. "Little girls do not play in mud!" A man who had to be her father appeared in the room, out of nowhere. She got her height from him and her looks from her mother.

He picked up his daughter and let her smear mud all over his face.

"Teach me that, Daddy."

"Vincent, absolutely not! No daughter of mine will dabble in that powers foolishness. She will paint and cook and be normal. I mean it," Cecilia said.

He winked at his daughter and whispered, "Later," in her ear.

Sophia pulled me to their laundry room and shut the sliding doors behind us.

They swung open a second later. A bigger Lydia stormed in with a laundry basket in her hands. "I did it, so leave me the hell alone!"

"How old is she?" I asked Sophia. She sounded like an adult already.

"Ten."

"You did not. I don't hear the machine," Cecilia said from somewhere else.

The detergent flew over my head and dumped itself in the wash. "Did the damn maid die?" she asked.

"Watch your mouth," Vincent said, poking his head through the doors. "She's alive, but your mother fired her. She almost walked in on you practicing teleporting. She got worried."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "She's always worried. You married a twit," she said. "Are you aware of that?" Vincent pointed a finger at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. "Dad, you're nuts. You could actually be something right now."

He laughed. "Most people would think being an FBI agent is something."

"You carry a gun, Dad. There are things in this world who'd laugh at your gun." He came into the laundry room and picked her up. "I hate that you quit," she said.

"But then I wouldn't have you, princess."

Sophia snapped, startling me. As we watched, Lydia's hair stretched longer down her back and her legs grew.

"Promise me you'll mind your manners, Lydia," Vincent said. He chuckled. "Well try to develop some manners first. Then mind them. When I trained, we couldn't talk to people like you're accustomed to."

If the diary wasn't a lie, Lydia was twelve and headed to live and train with Julian.

"Okay. Don't tell her I cried," she said.

"I won't. You'll be an agent in no time, and we'll be there to visit every weekend," Vincent said. "There's nothing else I can teach you. I quit at this point. Promise me you won't."

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. She wiped her face and they went out into the kitchen. Cecilia was in hysterics, fixing a bow on a nicely decorated basket.

"Here, I made you cookies to take with you," she cried. Vincent and Lydia looked like they were trying not to laugh. "Make sure you wash your hair. It gets all stringy and that's not attractive, and you better not cut it."

"Okay, Mom." She hugged her mother, then she and Vincent disappeared.

Sophia snapped and we landed in an open field. Lydia ran by in black tights and a black tank top. She was leading the pack of boys behind her.

"Kamon," a man said. He had neatly groomed, silver hair, but his skin wasn't wrinkled. Julian, I guessed. He was dressed in a black suit. "You'd better catch up to her, or you'll spend the night in a cell."

"Yes, Master," a handsome boy said. He broke from the pack, but he never caught Lydia. He shoved her when he crossed the finish line, and she jammed her right fist into his jaw.

"Good job, pet," Julian said. Lydia turned and bowed to him. "She's earned her dinner tonight. Will she be eating alone?"

The pack said, "No, sir."

"Then go again. Ten miles this time, cut through the forest." They took off running again, with Lydia still in front.

Sophia snapped, and we moved to a huge, cold home. Stern gray, like a medieval castle. "She lived here—"

"I know. From twelve to fifteen." She nodded and Lydia passed us, dressed in the skimpy clothes she'd written about. We followed her into a small room. She was crying and started stuffing her clothes in a suitcase.

"They have just come from an auction. Everyone was sold except her and the boy she punched," Sophia said. A door slammed and startled Lydia. Footsteps grew louder in the hall, coming closer to her door. She packed faster, in a teary panic, and closed her eyes.

Sophia and I moved with her. She was in her house again. We followed her up the stairs. She closed the door of her parents' room behind her. We walked through it.

"Dad, wake up," she said. She touched him on the shoulder. "Dad."

"Honey? What are you doing here? And in underwear?"

She crawled in bed with them like she'd written in the diary. Her back was to Cecilia, but she held on to Lydia as she bawled.

"I met her two weeks later," Sophia said, pulling me away from the bed. I was staring at Lydia, trying not to feel sorry for her.

Cecilia and Vincent's closet opened to a smaller house. The poor person's home, as Lydia had called it.

Lydia and Sophia were in the kitchen. She knocked a glass off of the counter. It shattered and Sophia kneeled to clean it. Then she dropped another and laughed as Sophia snarled.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson one day, little girl," Sophia said to her.

"I'd like to see you try, witch."

Lydia was rude, bratty. Even worse than she'd been with her mother, like living with Julian had hardened her. This was the girl I'd met at the beginning of the diary, the one who hated everything.

We walked out of the back door of the house and into a coffee shop. My throat closed. I knew who she, who we, were about to meet. The soft strumming of a guitar stopped while she was reading a book alone in a booth. He knocked on the end of her table.

He was... so obviously my father. I looked just like him. His skin was a little darker than mine. Caramel and beautiful. He leaned his guitar against her table, waiting for her to notice him. She didn't. Or didn't care to show that she did.

"Can you get me another cup of coffee, please?" he asked.

She grunted, but her face softened when she looked up at him. "I don't work here."

"How about I get you one since I do? What's your name?"

"Lydia Shaw."

He smiled and shook her hand. They were both staring, deeply captivated already. "I'm Gavin. Well... Christopher Gavin, but everyone calls me just Gavin."

Christopher Gavin? Not Raymond Grant? So I was Christine Cecilia Gavin. How many different names could one person have?

He came back with two cups and sat across from her. He had her laughing in under a minute. They were holding hands in five. She hadn't lied in the diary. It was obvious she loved him. It was instant and strong for them both. My eyes watered as I stared at the man I was the spitting image of. Then I forced my heart not to feel, not to buy into her story, because even though he was the love of her life, she'd given his child away. She didn't love me like this.

"Come on, dear," Sophia said, pulling me to the door.

"Wait," I said. "I... uh... don't think we should watch for a while. They get pretty out of hand."

Sophia laughed and tugged at my arm. "I remember," she said, cringing. "She brought him to Mona's house once when she thought I wasn't there."

The thought of Lydia and Christopher going at it anywhere near Sophia was enough to make me gag.

I looked over my shoulder to my handsome father, thinking I'd look way better as a guy. The bell chimed over the coffee shop door as she opened it. Of course, it led to another memory.

Cecilia fluffed Lydia's bangs and corrected her postured at a dinner table decorated exactly like the one in Paris. This room was bigger with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and far too many paintings on the walls. Her father walked in with his hand on Christopher's shoulder. My dad looked terrified.

"So, is Christopher a family name?" Cecilia asked.

"I don't know," he answered and sat next to Lydia. "Never met my family."

"Oh, how awful that must be for you," she said, like it wasn't awful at all. Lydia narrowed her eyes at her mother. "You two are perfect for each other. Lydia also lives like a wayward orphan who doesn't have to answer to anyone."

"Mom!"

Cecilia smiled and lifted her fork to her mouth. "Elbows, Lydia."

Lydia grunted and Christopher rubbed her back, calming her and stopping her from acting like her old self, it seemed. This was the in love version of the famous woman. The psychotic, overly sexual girl from the diary. Did Cecilia and Vincent not have the talk with her? Did she not know that all that fun they were having would lead to an accident like me?

"Mrs. Shaw, I've apologized to Mr. Shaw, but I also wanted to tell you that I'm deeply sorry," Christopher said. "I wasn't thinking about her family when I asked her to marry me. It all happened so fast. I regret not including you."

Vincent swirled his wine around in his glass and took a sip.

"It's not that you illegally married my daughter without telling us, Christopher. It's not that she's seventeen years old. I don't even care that you serve coffee for a living and have absolutely nothing going for yourself."

Cecilia huffed like she cared. I walked around their fancy dining table, moving closer to Lydia and Christopher. They were holding hands under the table.

"I can ignore those things," Vincent said. "What I can't ignore is the fact that my daughter is about to throw away everything she's worked for since she was a little girl for some guy."

"Dad, please stop. You're being dramatic. I'm sorry I kept him from you until now, but he's not just some guy. He's worth it. He's the most important person in my life."

Vincent stormed away from the table and slammed a door somewhere. Lydia kissed her husband on the cheek and went after him. Sophia and I followed her into an office. Vincent was crying. She rested her head on his back and hugged him.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said. "I didn't mean that how it sounded. You're still important to me. And if you got to know him, you'd love him."

Vincent turned around and kissed Lydia on her forehead. "It's not him. He seems... fine. I'm worried about other things." She wiped his face with her thumbs. "It's nothing for you to be concerned with, but will you do your old man a favor?"

"Sure."

"Wait to quit," he said. He pushed a finger to her mouth to shush her. "Stay married if you want, pumpkin. You've managed to work him into your life this long. Just do what you've been doing. And no children. Please, not now. Let me work some things out first before we complicate things any further."

"Complicate what, Dad?"

He smiled and kissed her again. "Don't worry about it, baby. If this is the life you want, I will make it happen, but I'll need some time." Lydia agreed and he hugged her. He didn't explain any further, but his expression echoed what he'd written in my hand. This was his fault. "Let's go rescue your husband from your mother, shall we?"

In the dining room, my dad twirled Cecilia around the table and dipped her in the doorway.

"Why didn't you teach Lydia to dance, CC? She doesn't have an ounce of your grace." Cecilia giggled and kissed him on the cheek when he pulled her up. He'd won her over in the short time Lydia had been gone.

"Unfortunately, grace is not hereditary. You either have it or you don't, and you, my dear, you have it!" Cecilia said, swinging out of his arms and into her husband's. "I love him," she whispered.

Sophia held her hand out to me. I stalled, staring at Christopher, wishing I'd known him. Why would she ever want to leave someone like him? He seemed perfect.

"Let's go, my love," she said, pulling me away from dinner and dancing and into a quiet bedroom.

Lydia yawned and stretched under a light blue comforter, her blonde hair severely disheveled. She felt the empty space next to her before sitting up.

"Gavin?" she said. "Baby?" Lydia panicked in the bed when he didn't answer. "Gavin!"

She jumped up and ran out of the room. She found him in the kitchen bobbing his head to the radio as he scrambled eggs. She caught her breath and dried her eyes. He'd cut his hair low, showing me how much better looking I'd be as a guy again.

"You look nice, baby," she said. He turned around, still dancing, showing off his suit.

"So do you." He ruffled her hair even more. "Are you really going to make me go?" He kissed her, and I looked away.

"Yes. I'm not taking no for an answer. It's only four hours."

"I don't want to leave," he said.

Sophia rolled her eyes as the two of them got entirely too comfortable against the fridge. Gross.

"You'll teach some kids music and be back before you know it. I just want you to get out of the house for a while. Make a friend," Lydia said.

"I have a friend," he mumbled. "Wouldn't you like to be friendly with me right now?"

"Sophia, please show me something else," I said. "They are my parents, you know?"

"This day is important," Sophia said.

Lydia squirmed out of his arms, and he chased her through the kitchen, trying to pin her against the cabinets.

"You know as well as I do that you want to do this. You want to play music for more than my ears, even if they're kids. I can read your mind. You can't hide this from me."

"I don't want to leave. It's too soon after what happened to your parents, Lyd," he said, serious now.

"Julian killed two people who didn't know me. I lost my parents months ago. I'm done grieving. I can't bring them back, and I'm not going to let fear drive you crazy in this house. I can't do this to you anymore. Get out of here and live a real life, baby. Even if only for a few hours."

He tried to protest, but she kissed him, and he gave up. They sat down for a quick breakfast then she helped him with his tie.

"Okay, just like we practiced," Lydia said. "You can do this. You're a natural." They laughed like that was a joke. She must have taught him a power. Moving himself to his new job, it seemed. "And don't strain, you'll hurt yourself." He threw his guitar strap over his chest. "Land exactly where we planned. They'll get really freaked out if you just appear out of nowhere."

"Baby, we've been over this, and you've made me practice this enough that there's no way I'll blackout again. I'll see you in a few hours. Call the school if you need me."

After a long kiss, he waved and disappeared.

Sophia and I followed her into their bedroom. She flipped on the TV and crawled in bed. "How old is she," I asked.

"Almost nineteen."

Lydia flipped over in bed and groaned. She stuck out her tongue... like she was nauseous. Two gags later, she ran to the bathroom and hurled. She wiped her mouth with a towel draped on the sink. "I'm never sick," she whispered. Her eyes widened and she looked down at her stomach. "No way. Not possible." She gasped. "Kinda possible."

Her hands flew to her stomach, and she smiled. Actually smiled like she was happy about it. She ran to the phone on the nightstand and picked up the huge receiver.

She pressed two buttons and hung up. I peeked over her shoulder, the closest I'd let myself be to her in any of the memories. She grabbed a picture by the phone of Cecilia and Vincent.

"Shit," she said. "No. No. No!"

"She's upset about me," I said. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, bracing myself for the fit she'd have about her accidental pregnancy. I was about to see exactly how much she didn't want me. Why did she even bother having me? It was obvious I didn't belong in this world. Not with her. Not with anyone.

Sophia motioned me to follow Lydia through the house. She went into another room, an empty one.

"This could work, right?" Lydia said to herself. "He won't... he won't find us. This will be his... no..." She rubbed her stomach and smiled again. "Her room. Right?"

She closed her eyes and I closed mine too as she forecasted the future. Her visions were misty and blurred at the edges like mine. She saw the hallway floor and bloody arms and hands clawing desperately, trying to reach something. I shivered as screams—a baby's and Lydia's—rang in my ears.

The blurry Lydia dragged herself into the empty room, now filled with frilly furniture and stuffed animals. Her legs were limp and she was bleeding like crazy. She screamed again, a painful howl, when she saw him, Christopher, lifeless on the floor. Julian stepped in her path and flipped her over. Her stomach had been cut open.

The handsome boy she'd punched, now a handsome man, gave me to Julian.

"Kamon, didn't Lydia make a cute kid?" He shrugged his shoulders, and Julian laughed. "It is cute, but I don't need cute. I need perfect," he said. "I have a feeling you haven't been training like you should. You probably haven't killed anyone. She would be a copy of a lovey-dovey wimp."

She squirmed and fought, but she couldn't move her legs. The men left the room with me, and water turned on somewhere in the house. Lydia tried and failed to drag herself to the bathroom before I stopped screaming.

"My baby!" She yanked her limp body to the doorway of the bathroom. Julian and Kamon had turned away from the tub, without me.

"Kamon, close her up. I want her clean and ready for dinner. Welcome back, pet."

She pulled out of the vision of our horrible future. She sobbed on the floor, still holding her flat stomach.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you or your dad. I'll keep you safe. I swear," she said, to me. "Julian wants me. Not you. Not Gavin. He didn't want my mom and dad. I have to go back." Her trembling hand carried a kiss from her lips to her stomach. "First, I'll get far away from him. Then you, angel. And then he'll stop hurting everyone I love. It will be over."

Sophia came into the room that would've been my nursery and hugged me. I hadn't realized I was shaking. "I don't want to see anymore," I whispered. I didn't imagine her story going this way. I expected glory and fame. Not heartache. Not painful premonitions.

Sophia grabbed my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. It made more sense for her to be so comfortable with me now. I'd only known her a week, but she'd known me forever. "We must continue, sweetheart."

She pulled me into the hall. At the end of it, the carpet turned into grass. My father ran out of the school and to a black car. Lydia waved to him through the window, and she pushed over to the passenger side to let him in. Sophia and I joined them inside.

"What's this?" he asked. "Why are you in a car?"

"It's yours," she said.

"First day of work present?" She nodded. "I love it, baby, but... we don't need a car. Since you taught me how to move myself, I didn't think we'd ever have one."

She clicked her seatbelt. "Let's take it for a spin." He laughed and started the engine.

"How much did this cost? A fortune, I'd bet," he said. She kept her eyes forward. Her hands were still on me. "So do you want me to park it close to the school and land inside? Drive to work like everyone else?"

"Yeah." She caught a tear under her eye. He didn't notice. "Turn here. Um... there's something I want to see." The car turned left onto an empty, unpaved road. "Pull over," she said.

"Huh?" He chuckled. "Oh! Hell yes, I will." He pulled the car onto the roadside and pushed his seat back. "Get over here."

She joined him on his seat, and I covered my eyes. The sound of them making out was as sad as it was disgusting because I knew their love story hadn't had a happy ending. "I love you," she said, crying. "Say it back."

"I love you."

The ruffling stopped, and I uncovered my eyes. He was unconscious. Sobbing, she held his head firmly between her hands.

"What is she doing?" I asked.

"Erasing his memory," Sophia said. "She's already cleared the house of her things."

She brought his limp hand to her stomach. "Say goodbye to Daddy. Wish him a happy life. A normal life."

She opened a bag she'd had at her feet and pulled his wallet from his pocket. I moved closer so I could see. She stuffed it with money and new cards, even a license with his picture on it. She pushed him up to the steering wheel and buckled his seatbelt.

"Almost forgot," she said, grabbing a chain around his neck that a wedding band dangled from. "Oh, God." She kissed him again. "I have to do this. I love you. I'll miss you, baby."

She got out of the car, and with a flick of a finger, she rammed it into a tree. The windshield shattered, sending shards of glass soaring into the car, not harming me at all. She opened the door and inspected him. Besides a few scratches from the shattered glass, he was fine.

"She's making it seem like he lost his memory in an accident?" I asked. Sophia nodded. "That's stupid! Why not just hide with him? She's not—"

"Thinking clearly?" I nodded. "She's terrified. A month ago, she found her parents headless in their home." Headless? Julian beheaded her parents. Oh, God. That was why I'd felt horrible pain in my neck in CC's studio. "She wants to go back to Julian so you and your father won't end up like them. She knows Christopher wouldn't let her go, and she believes leaving is the only way to keep you two alive."

Sophia snapped her fingers and brought us to a freezing cold house. Lydia was bundled up in front of a fireplace, crying. In the dim lighting of the room, I could see easels lining the walls. She painted like her mother.

I painted like mine.

She watched the fire fizzle out and got up to light it again. Her stomach was huge, but she was still skinny otherwise.

"One... match," she said and chuckled. No other lights were on in the house; I assumed the power was out. She struck the final match against the box, but it died before it caught on. She erupted in a fit of screaming and swearing.

I sighed. I'd inherited the same explosive anger.

"Relax, Lydia," she said. "Sorry, baby." She created her own fire when she calmed down, the same way I could. "Don't worry. It won't hurt you. No one will train you. You'll be normal."

That didn't happen. While she crooned, swearing I wouldn't be affected, she created another blanket and a little white dress.

"You're going to look like an angel. Two more weeks," she said, crying again.

Someone knocked on her door and she jumped. I shook, too. A knife appeared in her hand and she walked to the door, cloaked in the blanket. She twirled it through her fingers like I'd done with Remi.

"Karen?" a man said in an accent, Russian maybe. "Ms. Karen? Is there something wrong?"

She sighed. "No, Gerald. I'm fine."

"Can I come in? I've been meaning to talk to you, but I never see you since you paid the rent up so far in advance. You never come out of there. It's strange."

She peeked out of the window on the door, and he smiled at her. "You see me every day, Gerald. Don't you?" His eyes dulled, and he nodded. "I have dark hair and dark eyes and I work at the market. Don't I?"

"Yes," he whispered, clearly in a trance, believing what she wanted him to.

"Has anyone asked you to look for a blonde woman?" she asked.

"Yes. A blonde woman that will be with a man. Men are searching for her. The bounty is two million dollars."

Lydia's eyes watered, then she smiled at him again. "I'll see you tomorrow like I do every day, Gerald. Where do I work again?"

"The market," he droned and walked away from her door.

Sophia snapped, and we moved to a different house. It had rough wooden walls, like a cabin. Like the cabin built for one.

I was there, screaming.

I crept down the hall, toward the sound of running water, my heart close to giving out. I didn't know what I'd do if I saw someone dangling me over a tub again.

A shower cranked off and Lydia ran into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel.

"Shhh," she said. "I'm back, angel." She picked me up out of a crib. I had a head full of curly hair already. I stopped crying immediately. "I left you for two minutes. Two little bitty minutes." She bounced me as she walked around the room. "If I can't leave to take a shower, how am I going to leave you forever?"

I was nestled against her chest with her wet hair in my face. I must have learned to think that smell meant to calm down.

"How old am I?" I asked, because it felt impossible for me to remember this moment. But I did, in a way that I could almost feel her skin on mine, and I shivered from the memory of that scent—oranges wafting from her hair.

I looked back at Sophia who hadn't answered. She was smiling, her eyes watering. "She never lets me see her like this." She sighed. "And I believe you are almost a month old. She was supposed to bring you to school right after you were born, but leaving is more complicated than she imagined it would be."

Lydia pulled me away from her chest. She smiled at me and laughed. "Can Mama get dressed now?" I swatted my little hand in the air, and Lydia's towel loosened at the top.

Sophia giggled. "I think you're hungry," she said, as I tried to take off Lydia's towel without touching it.

I had powers before I was twelve. I had them as an infant. I guessed that was what complicated her leaving me.

"Christine! No!" Lydia yelled. "What did I say? Do not move things!" I screamed again, and she rocked me, cooing, until I stopped. "Oh, God. I am the worst mother in the history of mothers. Good thing I'll be dead soon."

I moved closer to the bed as she positioned me to eat. I sat next to her, looking at us in the most nurturing position a mother and daughter could ever be in outside of the womb. The icy shell covering my heart shattered, and I let myself remember her completely. This room. This cabin. How she was always crying, even when she laughed.

"Why does she think she'll be dead soon?" I asked, instead of the words my heart pushed to my lips—bring me to my mother.

"She made it so she couldn't have any more children. She believes Julian will kill her when he finds that out." I was crying as hard as Lydia was now. "Let's go, love."

I shook my head, I didn't want to leave. I reached out my hand to touch Lydia, but it went through her. "I get it. She loved me. I believe you."

"Still does. And there's more to see," Sophia said.

She snapped and took me from the memory I wanted to stay in, to one I really didn't want to see. I broke down immediately when I saw the St. Catalina crest in the wrought iron fence.

We were in a car in front of it. Lydia had me in her arms in the backseat. There was no one in the front. Her hair was jet-black, her eyes green. A disguise, I guessed. She opened a briefcase with her free hand, checking over the contents. A birth certificate, my prints, and loads of money were inside. St. Catalina had lied about not knowing who we were. Maybe the bible names were a decoy, a cover for only taking rich kids.

"This is it, baby. You're all set. Mama loves you. More than loves you. You'll be safe and happy here. I've seen you all grown up. You will be absolutely stunning. Perfection, like your father. I'm sorry I won't be here to hold you and watch you grow. But don't worry. I'm not worrying. You haven't moved anything in two weeks, and you won't ever be trained, so the powers are gone for good. I'm sure of it. Everything will go right in your life. You'll be normal with normal friends and you'll find someone normal to love. That's what your father and grandmother should've done. But you have to. You're the only piece of me that will live, and you have to be happy."

She wiped her face with the collar of her shirt, and I yanked her wig. "You have to fall asleep, angel. I'll never be able to leave if you scream." She rocked me for a minute, still crying, but I still wouldn't close my eyes. "Okay... you're going to make me pull out the big guns. You know you can't resist it." She chuckled and cleared her throat.

In a sweet soprano voice, one I remembered so clearly, she sang the song I'd thought I made up, my shower song. My little eyes fluttered. She sang the verse I'd sung to Nathan after I'd fallen asleep in her arms. I'd bet I rarely heard that part, and it had gotten buried deeper in my mind. I fell to more pieces as I watched and listened and remembered and wanted.

She kissed me and covered her mouth, her face and body tensed with a scream she couldn't release. She opened the door, and Sophia pulled me closer. I bawled into her hair until the car disappeared.

Sophia and I now stood under a huge tree with moss hanging over our heads. Lydia looked like what I imagined a hunter would look like, dressed in an all black, clingy outfit. She did not look like she'd just had a baby.

"So... obviously he didn't kill her like she'd thought," I said, recovering from seeing her leave me. Ready to be upset again.

"She changed her plan. While hiding with you, she hadn't seen how bad things had gotten with the war. She doesn't think you're safe because of the people trying to take over the world," Sophia said, pointing to a house in the distance. "Fredrick Dreco is inside with all the major leaders of the war. They are the most powerful witches, wizards, and beasts alive. They are about to figure out that they've been lured there, but it's too late."

Lydia stretched her arms in front of her and closed her eyes. A gentle breeze shook the leaves and the moss above us. Then the house exploded. A cloud of fire and multicolored smoke flared so high that no one could've escaped it. This was the Lydia I'd learned about. The fierce assassin. The woman who saved the world.

She sat under the tree between Sophia and me as sirens wailed in the background.

"Last moments as me," she said. "Maybe I should pray." She laughed then looked up to the sky. "You'd like that huh, Mom? And Dad, you'd love that I just took out all those creatures. Maybe I'll get to see you two and get to watch her from up there." She chuckled again, sadder this time. "Yeah right. I don't even have a chance."

She wiped her eyes as she stood and breathed a defeated sigh.

We moved with Lydia to a door. She knocked twice before it opened. Julian smiled at his desk. Kamon rushed to the door. "Hold on, my boy," Julian said. "Let me speak with her first. Dreco killed all of the agents, all hunters now answer to me, and I didn't issue and order to kill him. You've had a big night. Haven't you, pet?" Lydia didn't answer. She shivered and Julian laughed. "Kamon, make sure Lydia's room is ready. We don't have time to waste. I've waited long enough. Go ahead and give her credit for Dreco. It's the least we can do."

Julian laughed. "Yes, Master," Kamon said and vanished.

Alone, Julian stood and walked slowly to Lydia. She shivered, and he chuckled.

Lydia closed her eyes. "Julian..."

"Don't you mean Master?"

"Julian," she strained. "You won't be getting any copies from me. This is over." Her breaths sped, and he reached his hand to her head. She jerked away from him.

"Over?" He laughed. "You wouldn't kill me. You don't have it in you. You're as soft as your father was. I'm surprised you didn't run off and start a family with your mystery guy." He gasped and laughed. "Is that what you've been up to? I'm going to enjoy finding—"

Lydia screamed and grabbed his neck. Sophia turned me away. Julian screeched as we flew out of that room and into another. One with padding covering the floor, walls, and ceiling.

Lydia was staring at the wall while four heavily armed soldiers stood in each corner of the room.

"What happened? Go back!" I said.

"She killed Julian."

"I want to see!" I yelled. I didn't want to be morbid, but I'd been afraid of this hunter since I read her diary. I was happy that he was dead.

"She would kill me if I showed you that. Literally," Sophia said. "It was very terrible. Julian was a senator, and she was caught that same day, sitting in the forest about a mile away from his home."

She didn't look like the typical prisoner. She was in a padded cell with guns on her. This part wasn't in the history books.

A door opened, but Lydia didn't turn around. She just stared, without blinking, at the wall. A tall man with red hair stepped into the room. "Ms. Shaw, we've gotten word that you were responsible for the fire that killed the Magical Council."

"Good. Can I leave?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. I'm afraid not. The scene at Senator Polk's estate was gory to say the least, you were covered in his blood, and we still have not found the murder weapon. I have a feeling you could've left this room the moment we put you in. What are you waiting for? Who else are you waiting to kill?"

"No one."

"Who do you work for?"

"No one."

"What are you?"

"Human."

He offered her a lighter and a needle to prove it. She stuck herself and let her non-magical blood drip over the flame. The interrogator groaned, like he wanted her to have magic. Like it would have explained things.

He left, nodding to the armed guards. Lydia stretched out on the thin bed, staring at the camera on her.

"Does she escape?" I asked. Sophia shook her head. "She could just leave. Why is she staying here?"

"She could run, but she'd be running forever. Her escape would also expose humans with powers, make them the new enemy," she said. "The government is afraid of her, but they also need her. They made her a deal and gave her a job."

She snapped and Lydia changed into a suit with her hair groomed neatly in a ponytail. We were in an office. She wasn't a prisoner anymore. She looked like the Lydia Shaw now.

Someone knocked on her door. "Come in," Lydia said, leaning into her window with her back to the door.

"Your next case, Your Honor. Witch. Talent level is lethal. The cameras are off."

"Bring it to the chair, thank you," she said to the soldier.

The it was Sophia. The present one kissed my hand and frowned. "I'm sorry about what I will say about you. I didn't know."

"Okay," I whispered, my head pounding from crying so hard in the last few memories. The soldier closed the door behind him and Lydia glanced down at her watch.

"You've been charged with conspiracy. How do you plead?" she asked, like she'd asked it a million times that day.

"Innocent, Lydia," the past Sophia said.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at her former maid. "I'm going to enjoy this," she said.

"You may want to reconsider that. I know who you really are. What you can really do. The things you and people like you have already done. You're just like Julian. You even made one of those things. She looks just like the boy you snuck into Mona's house. And she's been screaming at the top of her lungs nonstop since I've been watching. She's disagreeable, just like you. And they'll kill you and your copy when I tell them, unless you stop this massacre of my people."

Anger flashed across Lydia's face like it had in Julian's office. I looked at the Sophia I knew. Her eyes apologized for her.

Sophia looked away as her past self started to choke. Lydia turned back to the window as Sophia fell to her knees. "Sophia, what is she doing to you?" I asked. She rubbed my hand, it felt like she meant, keep watching.

Lydia laughed, the most haunting, insane laugh I'd ever heard. "That's sweet, Sophia. You didn't even tell anyone what you found. You're here to make empty threats so your family won't die." Sophia wasn't talking. She must have been in her head. Lydia threw her arm back and opened her hand. Sophia slid across the floor to her. She picked her up by her neck and forced her to stand. "Look at me," she demanded. Sophia opened her frightened eyes. "You're an idiot, just like the rest of your people who are starving because of a rumor that we can track spells." Sophia pulled at Lydia's jacket, her face turning blue. Lydia's eyes watered and spilled over in the next second. "Her name is Christine, and with your last breath, you will apologize to my daughter for calling her such a filthy name. And I will make every member of your family do the same."

Sophia reached her trembling hands to Lydia's face, rubbing her cheeks. In a hoarse whisper she managed to say, "Please. I'm sorry. Let me help."

Lydia freed Sophia, and they stared at each other for a moment, hate still there, both sizing up the other. "She wanted to come get you, but she couldn't," my Sophia said to me. "We knew it wouldn't work out because I'd check the future, she would too. In most of the predictions, you were either killed or abducted by Kamon. In the others, you were miserable, living in hiding with her."

That sounded like a mess of excuses. To me, it looked like Lydia had given up on her marriage and her child.

She snapped again, and we moved to Lydia's living room in Paris. Her sofa was black then, and a landscape painting was on the wall where her TV currently hung. Sophia brushed past herself with her hands on her hips.

"Lydia, it's two in the morning my time, and my house is packed with people who need to know your decision about the treaty."

"People? That's a stretch. And did you tell them you're in my living room bothering me about it? Or do they think you have an in with the janitors in my office? That would certainly be more believable." Lydia didn't look up from the papers on the coffee table in front of her as she spoke, aggravating Sophia even more it seemed.

"What difference does it make? Can you hurry?"

"You want me to sign it or piss on it? I can go either way at this point."

Sophia sighed and mumbled something under her breath as she disappeared into the hall.

The present Sophia rubbed my back. It felt like she was preparing me for something, telling me to brace myself. What could be worse than what I'd already seen? Lydia shivered and closed her eyes. A child's giggles filled the air. She lay back on the sofa, with me suddenly in her arms. My wild curls sprawled across her chest. I looked around three years old. Lydia smiled at me as a light strumming of a guitar joined my laughter. She brought her eyes up, and my father was sitting on the other end of the sofa with her feet in his lap.

"Hi," she whispered. He dropped his guitar and smiled. He tickled my back. Tears streamed down her face as my dad and I laughed.

"Hey, baby," he replied.

"Because of her powers," Sophia said, rubbing my back as I stared at the family I didn't get to have. "...her fantasies would become disturbingly real. She could see you two, even if she hadn't intended to."

I refused to cry again. I wanted to be pissed, but it was hard to hate someone so fragile.

Sophia sighed in the doorway of the living room. She came closer, kneeled next to Lydia, and snapped her fingers. A glass of bubbling water appeared in her hand.

"What's that, Sophia?" I asked.

"A potion. For a clear mind," she said.

Lydia rolled over with me on the sofa, as if to shield me from Sophia. "I'm fine," she whispered. "I know it's not real."

"We can't let you have these, Lydia. If you chase her around your office again, I think they'll have you committed."

"Don't drink it," my father whispered. "We'll leave you." Lydia crawled to his lap, hauling me with her. Sophia grabbed her hand and forced the glass inside of it. Lydia kissed my imaginary father, then my imaginary lips. As she downed the glass, Christopher and I blew away like a gust of wind hit us, fading us into nothing.

Sophia picked up the papers from the coffee table—the treaty that saved magical kind, apparently. "Trade," she said. "Sign this, and I'll give you the mirror."

Lydia wiped her face and sat up on the sofa, pulling herself together. "How long can I use it this time?"

"Sign it, and it's yours to have."

Lydia scribbled her signature on the treaty and exchanged it for a sterling silver hand mirror. "Christine Cecilia Gavin," she whispered into it. I moved closer as a smile stretched across her face, like more than her reflection was there.

It was way more than her reflection.

I was in it, stretched out in a bed with the covers hanging off of me. I could see Whitney in the next bed and hear her snoring, too. She would have been Abigail then.

"She watched me through that?" I asked.

"Still does."

I sighed, shaking my head, unsure of how I felt about that—happy that I mattered to her, betrayed because she'd let this happen, or amazed because I'd been right about someone watching me all these years.

"Swear that you won't take her... take it back," she whispered, tears falling into her mouth as she spoke.

"I swear." Sophia stood and tugged on Lydia's arm. We followed them into her bedroom. Sophia tucked her in as she continued to stare into the mirror.

"Isn't she beautiful? I love it when they put her in the white pajamas. She looks like an angel." Sophia um-hummed like she didn't really care as she dimmed the lights in Lydia's room.

Her bedroom doors opened into my New Orleans sitting room. I thought it was over, but I saw myself asleep on the sofa with the news blasting in the background.

Sophia opened my door and whispered, "You can come in now."

Lydia stepped through the door slowly, her face wet and red. "I've called you a million times, and you haven't answered. You promised you'd answer."

"You were harassing me. I told you to let me handle it." So those phone calls had been from Lydia. Wow.

"That lie was awful, by the way. How long do you think she'll believe that? A witch hunting money that belongs to people she doesn't know? Really, Sophia?" Her lie was ridiculous, now that I thought about it. I should've seen through Sophia. "And... this mess about her being a witch. I don't understand that."

"Yes, you do," Sophia said. "You just don't want to admit it."

"She doesn't have powers, and I dare you to call her a copy."

"I didn't say that, but I saw her create fire. That's why I went there." Lydia covered her mouth, shaking her head like she didn't believe it. "I had to purposefully shield my mind around her. I could feel it. She's powerful."

I shifted on the sofa, panting in my sleep. Lydia sat next to me and rubbed my cheek.

"I could make this nice for her," Sophia said. "What if I went and got a friend to stay here with her? I have one in mind. You freed her parents for me. Emma, remember?"

Lydia inched closer, ignoring her. She pulled me to her arms and cradled me like a baby. I sighed, my chest relaxing, breathing more calmly now.

"Mom," I whispered, like I remembered doing in the dream. The peaceful hell that smelled like her.

She gasped. "Baby!" She kissed me on my forehead, then both of my cheeks. "I'm sorry about everything. I didn't know about those girls. I didn't know about your powers. I should have. I'm so sorry."

Didn't know? The most powerful psychic woman in the world was claiming not to know how my life was at St. Catalina? Her memories had softened me, but that turned my heart to stone again. I was over it. Over her. The excuses, the lies, the breakdowns.

"I need you to get me into her mind. She's as blocked as I am, without even trying. I need to see what went wrong. How the powers came back."

Sophia blew the powder into Lydia's face. I was dead inside, so I couldn't laugh when she let her hit the floor. She stepped over Lydia and kneeled in front of me. "Sweet dreams, my love," she said. She turned off the TV and snapped, probably meeting Lydia in my head.

I was done, I'd been done, but now I refused to let her drag me through any more pitiful memories. Especially not ones I'd lived. Before I could make my demand, Sophia blew the powder in my face again and caught me before I hit the floor.

# Chapter Fourteen

I woke up in Paris. My suitcase was on the floor by the bed, my cell phone on top of it. I rolled over and found a note on the pillow. I knew it was from Lydia. Her handwriting hadn't changed.

Christine, what you've seen today, I never imagined I'd have to show you. My life has been one horrible decision after another. The worst of them all apply to you. I know I'm probably the worst thing you could've imagined for a mother. That's why I wanted you to believe in Catherine and Raymond. I wanted there to be these normal people who could only be separated from you by death. Not the truth—that your mother is an awful person who took you from your father and hid you in that horrible place. I'll never forgive myself for hurting you today and every day I let you sit at that school. I love you more than life, and I am sorry I have never shown you that. I know you are upset, but please stay in my apartment until I find the hunter who came to your house. I'm so sorry, baby. For everything. I love you.

I crumpled the letter and threw it on the floor. Her life was tragic, more awful than expected, but there were seventeen whole years that she let bad predictions and that Kamon guy keep her away from me. I was alone and out of place because of the powers she'd passed to me. And she'd been so dramatic in leaving my dad. She didn't fight for him either. Or why couldn't she just take off and leave me with him? I would've at least had one parent. And how could she not have known how miserable I was all these years? She just didn't want to know. She didn't want to see how awful her decision turned out to be.

I took off the fancy dress and pearls and put on sweats. It was eight o'clock at night and I was beyond starving. I rummaged through her refrigerator and found a lot of prospects for dinner—cheesy pasta, pepperoni pizza, and ranch dip for the tortilla chips on the counter. This was from Sophia. A note that said, Eat up, dear, was taped to the glass casserole dish.

I put the entire thing in the microwave and watched the tiny blue flowers on the glass revolve slowly, images of Lydia in all of her forms intruding.

"Don't think about her," I ordered myself as I sat on her fancy cream sofa to eat. They obviously planned for me to stay a while. A stack of girl-friendly DVDs were on the coffee table. All set in high school. All about love. I popped one in. After the third kissing scene, I wanted to die. I missed Nate so much, even though that ache was nothing in comparison to the hole Lydia left in my chest when she ripped my heart out.

The movie ended with the couple making out at prom. The next movie was eerily similar, just with two pep squads and making out at a cheer-off. I cracked open the chips, still hungry, and covered my plate with ranch dip. Sophia would be proud of my pig-out.

I walked around her home, crunching on greasy chips, instead of starting another movie. This was where Lydia had been while I was hidden in hell—the lap of luxury. Part of me wondered if she'd been sad all of these years, missing her husband and child. The other part of me, the girl I'd tried not to be, wanted to fight her.

And Sophia, too. I shook my head, thinking of when she'd cried about letting me stay at school so long. And all the other times the truth was apparent—her laughing at the newscast, getting freaked out about me knowing Lydia was psychic, waiting on me hand and foot.

Sophia was right. My life was down right bizarre. Actually, I'd watched Lydia Shaw breastfeed me today. I'd say that was a little more than bizarre.

Her apartment had four rooms besides the living and dining rooms. I'd slept in her bedroom. I opened the door next to it and shook my head. Lydia needed an entire room for a closet. I counted seven long racks that stretched from one wall to another. Most of her clothes were black. Her heels, too. The exceptions were white dresses and suits and one lonely red shirt on the last rack.

The next room was her gym. She had three complicated looking machines, some weights, and a very worn punching bag hanging in the corner.

The last room on the hall was an office. I still wasn't clear on what she did for a living.

By the look of the office, I'd say nothing. It was too neat and stylish to be used for actual work. I sat in her white leather chair and wiggled her wireless mouse. There couldn't be anything important stored on the computer because there wasn't a password.

I clicked on the Internet and searched her name. The web knew nothing about Catherine and Raymond, but everything about Lydia. The first result was about the Nobel Peace Prize she'd received a year after killing Frederick Dreco. The second was a fashion blog that follows her chic style in the press. The third, a conspiracy site detailing a rumored connection to the death of a senator. The comments at the bottom of the page all bashed the author for trying to degrade the woman who saved the world. Hilarious.

Nate was right, she worked for the world, the United Nations, as the Special Defensive Coordinator, whatever that meant. Our names appeared in several of the results together. Leah Grant, the missing girl, and the famous woman.

I rolled my eyes at the screen. She'd been pretending to look for her hidden child.

Before the articles about her heroic acts could piss me off, I closed out the browser.

I spun around in her chair. As I looped around, a picture on her desk caught my eye. It was of Cecilia and Vincent as they walked hand in hand on a beach. Her painful past squeezed at me, forcing my mind to pull the loose ends of her story together. She'd sent me to their home, she never cleared out the studio, maybe she was afraid to go in there beyond clearing blood and bodies. I knew I would be.

"You really wanted to help me, CC," I said.

"System activated," the office answered back. "Passcode correct."

I jumped out of the chair as the left wall opened like an elevator door.

"Whoa."

Barefoot, I walked behind the wall and into what had to be her real office. Something I'd said opened it. I'd bet it was CC.

Television screens covered every inch of the room. They showed surveillance footage for major landmarks, on a live feed apparently.

The first ten screens were all places I recognized in America. After that, I could only identify the Eiffel Tower. The others were random skyscrapers, mansions, and bridges.

So she... watched things all day. That seemed boring.

The center screen, the biggest of them all, showed a map with blinking red dots. It showed Europe, then it switched to South America, then to Africa.

"What does this track?" I wondered out loud with my hand on the screen.

Then I knew. It tracked Kamon, the man who had cut me out of her stomach in her vision, the man she'd feared would hurt me out of revenge.

"Bedtime, my sweet," Sophia said at the door. She didn't mention I was snooping in Lydia's office. She laced her fingers through mine and walked me to the bed.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Working. She's always working. Keeps her mind clear, without my help." I lay down on her pillows, then shoved them away. I didn't want to let her scent drive me insane, or drive me to love her—I wasn't sure which would happen. "Are you ready to talk about things?" I shook my head, and she tucked me in. "I'm sleeping on the sofa, right in there, if you need me. Do you want anything now? Perhaps the chips you left in the office?"

"Okay." She snapped, conjuring my ranch-covered chips. She dimmed the lights, and I thought of something to ask. Something I'd wondered about since I met her. "Sophia..."

"Yes, love?"

"You've always taken people in who needed you. Why not me?" She sat on the bed. It was silent for a minute.

"I knew you'd ask me that eventually," she whispered. "Working for her was never my plan. All of the agents I had connections to were killed. I was desperate enough to go to her and demand that she help me, and she ended up needing me as much as my family, and I needed her." She let her tears fall without wiping them and bit down on her trembling lip. "They have no idea who I work for. Gregory knows but no one else. I've kept the two biggest parts of my life separate. I'm sorry."

I adjusted my head on my arm, my makeshift pillow, and Sophia stood like that was enough of an explanation. It wasn't. And it wasn't a reason to cry. It was something bigger. Something obvious.

"You were afraid of me. Lydia Shaw's copy should be rude and violent, right?" Her breath caught, and she covered her mouth.

I turned over in Lydia's bed, trying not to cry. Sophia had actually believed what I'd feared about myself for years. That I was evil and dangerous. I still didn't know if I was or not. I couldn't blame her for wanting to keep her family safe from me.

"I judged you from what I saw while Lydia watched. She saw her little baby, but I saw a little girl who never said anything. Or laughed or played. I never called you a copy ever again, but you fit what I thought one was. It's a stupid bias I shouldn't have had, dear. Copies are people, and even though you're not one, I shouldn't have let fear stop me from loving you and taking care of you."

She was crying so hard that her words blended. I remembered a moment where I'd seen a hint of fear in her eyes—when I'd grabbed her hands in my room and she'd almost pulled away.

"I wasn't even planning on meeting you now. She'd been planning to take you from school days before I did. She was trying to get things together, and like always, I was just trying to get her to go to work and do her job and keep things going for all of us. Selfish, like I've always been when it comes to her personal life and you. She'd missed several meetings already. Kamon had heard about it. I volunteered to watch you to avoid a disaster and happened to fall in love with you that night in the kitchen. Dear, I understand if you hate me now. "

I refused the dramatic cry pounding against my chest. I pulled Lydia's comforter over my head, trying not to think of her watching me through a magic mirror and crying in this very spot.

"It wasn't your job to raise me. I don't hate you," I said. "I just want to be alone. Goodnight."

She whispered it back, still crying, and left the room.

I fought the urge to sleep brought on by sadness and the oranges lingering in this bed, not admitting to myself that I was waiting up for Lydia. I stopped staring at the clock at eleven. In New Haven, mingling time was ending. It was the perfect time for someone to bang on my door for a laugh, and Lydia was working. She would have missed them bullying me, probably like she'd done for years. I lasted until three AM. Either I'd missed her between then and when my eyes popped open at eight, or she never came home.

Sophia hovered over me without talking as I crawled out of bed and washed my face. She walked me to the dining room for breakfast. As she sat my plate down, I looked into her bloodshot eyes. She looked like she'd been crying all night.

"May I sit?" she asked. "She doesn't usually let me."

I slammed my hand on the table, rattling the glass, a lifetime of anger shooting out of me in a moment. I was surprised everything around me didn't shatter or catch fire. "I'm not her!" I screamed. I took a deep breath, sinking into my chair. I certainly sounded a lot like her just then. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"It's okay, dear. I know you're not her." She sat in the seat next to me and snapped herself up a plate. "You are more like your father. She says that all the time."

"When can I leave?" I asked, because I didn't want to cry today.

"I don't know yet. She found the camera in your closet and the picture of you and Nathan. We know it was a part of Remi's plan. You came close to being turned over to someone very dangerous, and Lydia is very upset about that. We've done some digging, and it seems like Liam is more dangerous than I thought. All this time of keeping you away from this life could be wasted if she doesn't clean up the mess I made by bringing Remi into your life. You're powerful. These hunters would give anything to have you. Own you."

"Why?"

"Because of the things you could do. Influence thoughts, create wealth. And they would believe that you're capable of killing without leaving a trace, even though I know that you're not. That's not even considering Lydia and what some would do to hurt her or extort her. Taking you would give someone a lot of power, dear."

She didn't have to say that they would breed me. That fact clogged the air along with everything else. I was still in danger.

I couldn't hide my fear. My fork trembled on the way to my mouth. We ate in tense silence, and she cleared the plates when we finished.

"This place is very safe. She wants me to leave you here while I take care of some things."

"Of course she does."

She hugged me then obeyed her boss' orders to leave me alone in her home.

As I brushed my teeth and hair, I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing a lot of him and glimpses of her. I made a mental note to avoid my reflection for the rest of my life.

I stuffed my arms with snacks and drinks and went in the most interesting room in the apartment. "CC," I said and activated the system again.

I dumped my snacks in Lydia's white chair and rolled it into her real office. I watched the screens for hours. It was kind of cool being in several countries at once. I had to stop watching the Kamon tracker. He moved around so much and so fast. It freaked me out. My heart jumped all three of the times his red dot flashed near Paris.

I heard my phone chime in her room, and I ran to answer it.

"Hi, Emma," I said.

"Chris, are you alright?" she asked. I stretched out on Lydia's bed and sighed. I was so far from alright.

"I'm fine," I lied. "How are you guys?"

"We're okay. Well... Paul and I are. Nathan isn't really talking to us. I'm sorry we left. He scared me, so I went along with it. I don't want you to think I feel differently about you now. Paul either. We know you're not evil."

"Thanks," I said, wishing Nathan would've been this cool about it. They also hadn't kissed me countless times. He had a right to be more disgusted, I guessed.

"I was calling to see if you've heard from Sophie. We're getting worried. She isn't answering and we saw you on the news."

"What?"

"The news. It's saying you've been found."

I ran to the TV and clumsily mashed buttons on the remote. It kept switching between white noise and the DVD menu for the cheer-off movie. "Emma, what's it saying? I don't know how to work the TV... maybe because I'm in Paris."

She tried to help me navigate it, but it was no use. She ended up just telling me since I wouldn't be able to understand the news here anyway. My face was on most of the channels out there. The story was that I'd been found alive and unharmed and was in a safe place. Apparently, I reported never seeing a witch and couldn't recall much from that night.

"Sophia is fine," I said, when she finished. "I saw her a few hours ago. She's probably working."

... With her long time boss and rival Lydia Shaw.

"Thanks. If you speak with her, please tell her to call."

"I will. Oh, and... Emma, could you tell Nathan I said hi and that I'm sorry?"

"Sure."

I decided to watch the teen movies instead of surveillance. The next one on the stack was the same as the last two, just with a soccer team and kissing at the state championship. I couldn't lie. I liked them all. I changed it out for the next movie about the antics of the ghost of a homecoming queen. I called Sophia while the previews rolled.

She answered on the first ring.

"Hi, love. Did you eat lunch?" I um-hummed slowly. I shouldn't have been surprised that I could reach her when they couldn't. "How can I help you?"

"Emma called. They're worried. Where are you?"

"In California getting your house ready." She sighed and paused. "No more lies. I was getting your house ready, but now I'm trying to locate Remi. We are having trouble finding her and Liam. All we know is that they're looking for you. Obviously there's nothing to worry about since you're safe at your mother's house."

I groaned. "Don't call her that. Please, call her Lydia."

"Okay, love. I will. And I'll be done soon and will be there to make you a nice dinner. You aren't scared, are you?"

"A hunter is after me... besides that and everything else, I'm fine. Don't forget to call Emma." She agreed, but it felt like she wasn't about to call her. I heard the worry in her voice. She was too focused on work right now to answer the phone for her family.

I put my phone on the table, trying to forget about everything but the movie on the screen.

The newly crowned homecoming queen hopped into her pink convertible and sped down a dark road. Poor thing. As her car flipped, my cell phone beeped.

One new message from Nathan.

I took a deep breath and flipped the phone open. My thumbs shuddered, trying to get to the message.

Hey, Chris.

Chris! Not Leah. I exhaled loudly and smiled. I replied, Hi. I'm so sorry. Are you still mad? I almost died waiting on his response.

No, baby. Where are you? he texted back, two minutes later.

"Thank you, God!" He'd realized like Sophia had said he would, and of course I would forgive him for running away from me. No question.

Paris. Long story. I love you.

I love you too. I miss you like crazy. I'm dying. I need to see you right now. It can't wait.

I looked around and rolled my eyes. I wanted to see him, too, but I knew Sophia wouldn't bring him here.

I replied: Sophia will be here before too long. I'll ask her to bring me to you.

No. I'm in New Orleans. I just had Paul bring me to the house to see you. I thought you were still here. Please come see me. I'm going crazy from being away from you.

I stopped the movie, smiling. At least something could go right in my life. I could still have him, the first person to love me. Well, the first person I knew to love me.

Okay, baby. I'll see you in a sec, I replied.

I ran to get dressed up, even though he'd mostly seen me in sweats. I pulled on nice jeans and a black lace shirt I'd never worn. I rolled my eyes when I slipped my feet in the pumps from yesterday. I was doing way too much. He already seemed over it, but I needed to make sure I'd get my boyfriend back.

I brushed my hair into a ponytail. Searching for pins to make it tighter, I found a tube of lipstick. Red lipstick. I slicked it on and smiled. Hopefully, I was about to smear it all over his lips.

I closed my eyes and opened them in front of the mirror in my bathroom. Well... Cecilia and Vincent's bathroom.

"Nate?" I called as I walked down the steps to the second floor. CC met me instead. I shook my head at her. "Later," I whispered. "We can talk later." I knocked on his door. It was open but empty. "Nate?" Now Vincent was behind me, I could feel his taller chill as he grabbed my hand. "I know we need to talk, but I'll come back after I handle this, okay?"

He followed me down to the first floor. I thought maybe the doors were locked and Nate couldn't get in.

I went out to the patio, alone now. The sun was setting on a quiet and normal day here. Calm and easy like I needed my life to be.

"Nate?"

He didn't answer. I'd forgotten my phone in Paris, so I couldn't call him to see where he was or reread the text to make sure I hadn't misunderstood him. While I waited, I planned what I would say to him. I walked around to the pool, remembering my birthday night. Maybe I'd bring that up. I just needed to convince him of how much I loved him. Well, that I could love at all.

Or maybe I could write him a letter telling him I was glad he was born like he'd told me. That was the moment I realized how deeply I was in love with him. Or maybe, since he was a goofball, I'd get some eggs from the fridge and pretend to scramble them on the concrete. Maybe it would ease the tension. Then we'd kiss, hopefully.

I heard whispers and smiled. He had to be walking this way, maybe on the phone or talking to Paul too softly for my ears.

"Hey, babe," said the wrong voice. I jumped and spun around. Remi smiled, decked out in black leather. "Don't you look nice. Got a date or something?"

"Where's Nathan?"

"You'll see him soon enough," she said. "This was too easy. All I had to do was use Sparky's phone and you came running to me. Well to him, because you're a slut. What kind of girl comes over from a text?"

She took one step forward, I took two back, and she laughed.

"So you turned yourself in, but you still wanted to see your boy-toy, right? I'm so happy. You almost ruined things for me." Her tone seeped into my ears, speeding my heart, and awakened my darker side, my furious side. She stepped up again. I didn't move this time. "Oh! There she is. I'm tempting you, like you told me not to. Show me what you got, show me some magic."

She did not want to see what I had.

She shoved my shoulder. I shoved right back, but harder. Then she had the audacity to slap me. Me... the girl who could debone her.

For the quickest second, I considered restraining Leah or Lydia or whoever the villain inside of me was, but I'd done that enough over the years. Suddenly, Remi had long blonde hair like Sienna, then short black hair like Whitney. Then her face and hair changed to the countless other girls who'd joined in on the Leah bashing. Everyone who thought being called a lesbian was hilarious and loved to see me fall and scream.

My hands clutched her throat before I felt them move. I brought her to the ground easily; I used more than my hands to get her there. I grabbed a fist full of her hair and slammed her head against the edge of the pool for the slap. Then again for bringing the hunter to my house and ruining my life. Then harder for those girls who I'd never get to punish.

It looked like she was screaming. I couldn't hear it, but I did see the blood running into the pool. I thought about pushing her into the water and holding her under, but I didn't. I guessed Lydia hadn't made me a killer. When it came down to it, I didn't want Remi to die.

I just wanted to beat her ass.

Considering what I could have done, I'd taken it easy on her. I'd been moving things since I was an infant. I supposed I could have moved her heart out of place. I had a lot of power packed in my little body, according to Sophia, so really Remi should be grateful that I only busted her face up.

But I still wasn't prepared for her to smile as she rolled over, blood slithering from her nose to her mouth, coating her teeth. She laughed. Before I could react to the new whispers in the air, a needle pierced my neck.

"She's going to be pretty useful once we get this magic out of her," Liam said.

I couldn't move. Every muscle in my body stiffened. Like if I fell, I'd shatter like glass.

"I want to drown her. Just kick her in. I've already brought in three today," Remi said. She got up and reached for me. I couldn't feel her hands. I couldn't feel my own.

"No, I like this one," Liam said. "And you promised four."

She dropped me by the pool. I tried to open my mouth to scream, something, but I couldn't. I was numb, shackled there, this weak, vulnerable body on the pavement. As they argued over Remi killing me or not, my vision blurred.

It felt like I was dying... and that felt nothing like what I'd dramatically called death before. This was quiet and slow. It didn't burn. It felt empty. Like everything was drifting away from me.

And all I wanted, of all things to want, was my mother. I wanted her to hold me. Sing to me. I wanted to smell the most calming scent there was in the world. I wanted to tell her what I hadn't before. That I missed her. Even though I didn't remember her face, the moment I smelled her I knew I'd been missing her for a long time.

I remembered that feeling, of wondering where she was, of hoping if I screamed enough she would come back to me. I remembered when that hope faded, when she faded from my infantile brain, only leaving whispers of herself behind—her scent and her song.

Tears poured from my eyes, but I couldn't wipe them. I still couldn't move.

To say I couldn't feel any part of my body, I'd never been so in touch with myself. I knew what was wrong with me now. Why I'd been so quiet as a child, what had made me so sad and lonely. I could call it depression, or an inherited personality, or both. But I was overwhelmingly sure that at the heart of it, I was just a girl who really missed her mother.

Liam ordered Remi to pick me up. For a moment, I thought I was going into the pool, about to meet the exact death she'd saved me from—a hunter drowning me—but we moved from my backyard instead.

It was darker where we landed. Bricks raced passed my eyes as she carried me down a hall. A squeaky joint told me a door had been opened.

"Remi, you need to get to the infirmary. You can't go in his quarters looking like that," Liam said. His quarters? "Especially not when you have four offerings. He won't be pleased."

Offerings?

She slammed me down on the cold brick floor. I heard gasps and some commotion. "Get back!" Liam screamed. "Remi, insert her needle. I won't be here to do it for you every time." Remi kneeled in front of me, her face still bloody. "You don't have time for a stare off. Get it done."

I barely felt her grab my dull arm. She fumbled around on the ground, and Liam smacked his lips. It sounded like several things made of glass dinged on the floor but didn't break.

"You need to be smarter than you are if you're going to make it here," Liam said. "This is a simple blood test needle. Something you'll do every day. No one asked you to do anything difficult... yet." He sighed, and Remi scrambled to find a vein on my arm. "I see several, Remi. Hurry!" I felt a prick. Remi bit a piece of tape off and secured the needle in place. "Clean this mess up when you come back. We need to rush to get you fixed since you let this tiny girl beat you up."

The door slammed, and I tried to roll over to my back. I felt too heavy to move.

"Christine!" Emma said.

She pulled me up and propped me against the wall. I could see the room then. The walls were made of old red bricks with chains coming from them. One was attached to Emma's ankle. Paul's, too. There was a pale, almost blue, man asleep and chained in the corner. Next to him was a dark-skinned woman with a little girl in her arms. She couldn't have been older than five. And in the last corner, Nathan. He stared at me with sad eyes. I had to look away.

"How did she find you in Paris?" Emma asked.

I pried my mouth open against the immense pressure.

"I came back to the house because... I thought Nathan texted me to come see him."

"I don't have my phone," he whispered. I nodded. That would have been nice to know before I went to New Orleans like an idiot. "You beat up Remi?"

I wanted to deny it, but I nodded again. He looked at the ground. Still disgusted by me, I guessed.

Whatever Liam stabbed me with was wearing off. I could feel the stinging needle more. Then I saw the needles in all of their arms except the sleeping man. Even the little girl's.

"What are they doing?" I asked.

"I heard them say they need to blood test us before we can be offered since the lead hunter doesn't hurt humans. Just us," Paul said.

That would work well for me, but they would find magic in their blood.

"Are they watching us?" I asked. They all shook their heads. "No cameras?"

"None," Paul said. "I don't think these humans need things like that. They only need our blood and a flame."

"But Remi knows you guys," I said. "Why would she need to test you?"

"She knows us, he doesn't. He needs proof," Paul said.

I saw the glass vials Remi had spilled on the ground, and I got an idea that could keep us alive, at least until Sophia noticed we were missing. Or Lydia. "I'll give you my blood. Those are empty. We'll fill them up and use them for your tests."

"You can't do that. You'll pass out," Nathan said.

"Someone, hook a few up to my arm. Quick," I said, ignoring him.

"You're human?" the woman asked. I nodded. "Please, do one for my daughter. I won't even ask for me. Please."

The woman crawled to me, her daughter curled and afraid in her lap. She took one of the empty vials from the ground and hooked it to my arm.

"Do one for yourself, too," I whispered. "If she makes it, and you don't..." I paused, about to choke on my words.

"I feel weird asking," she said and I... snapped.

"So you want to sacrifice yourself so you can be her hero? You're not a hero because that's stupid! You would rather risk your life than raise your daughter? You'd make her grow up without you? It will be your fault that she won't know who she is. Hearing about conditions and creatures and just accepting it as fact. And she'll miss you, even if she doesn't remember everything about you! You'll turn into a terrible feeling, deep in her heart, and it will never go away. You can't..."

A chain slid across the floor as Nathan came closer, cutting off my rant. The woman had backed away from me, and the little girls eyes were bulging out of her head. Emma swept her hand over her lungs and up to her mouth, like she was reminding me how to breathe.

"Sorry," I whispered to the woman. "I'm... yeah... sorry."

"It's cool," she said, face still turned up. "And thanks. I'll keep all of that extra stuff in mind."

Nate took another needle from the ground and wiped the tip on his shirt, sterilizing with cotton. "It's for her," he said, nodding to the lady that Lydia's baby, who grew up to be Leah, had just gone off on for no reason. "Close your eyes so you don't feel it." It didn't work. I felt the pinch and the blood rush out of the vein he'd poked. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said, even though I wasn't. I'd been tricked into meeting Remi, had a fight, been drugged, and was now offering up my blood to a child and projecting my pain onto her innocent mother.

"I'm sorry she made you think I texted you," Nathan said.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have believed her." My legs regained feeling and I kicked them around, rattling the chain on my ankle.

He gently pulled the little girl's needle out of my arm when the vial filled. "Can I see her?" he asked her mom. She brought her daughter to Nathan. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. "What's your name?"

"Kelsey," she said, in the cutest voice I'd ever heard.

"Hi, Kelsey. I'm Nathan. I'm going to tape this on your arm, but you have to keep very still so it doesn't go in, okay?" She nodded. "And when they come to take it off, I need you to pretend that it stuck you. Can you pretend to cry?"

She smiled and looked back to her mom. "Yeah," Kelsey said.

"Good. And you also have to pretend to be human, okay?"

"But, I'm not. I can make stuff fly," Kelsey said.

"I know, but we can't say that today. It's a game," Nathan said.

She smiled, her little eyes excited. "What do I get if I win?"

"I'll get you a new doll," her mother said.

Nate had pulled Kelsey's old needle out and taped the new one on while she wasn't paying attention. I wanted to smile with them, but I couldn't. I'd probably given them false hope. Remi could pull off the tape and see that it wasn't in her arm and we'd all be screwed.

I was close to crying by the time he'd finished securing a new needle to Mallory, Kelsey's mom. But we had to try something. I was too weak to even try to move myself, and they were all too afraid to try a spell, fearing it would backfire. Lydia would call them idiots for that.

"Can you do more?" Paul asked.

"I can do all," I said, still hopeful. Paul crawled over and slid two more needles into my arm. I smiled at Emma instead of wincing. They hurt even more since the drugs had completely worn off now. "You, too," I said to Nathan.

He shook his head.

"Stop being an idiot," Emma said. "You expect us to leave you here?"

"You're not coming with us, Nathan?" Kelsey asked. "Please come." I don't think any of us could have been more persuasive than that. He couldn't tell her no, so he found yet another vein to puncture on me.

"What are we going to do with those?" Emma asked, pointing to their vials filled with blood that wouldn't pass the test. I rolled my eyes. My plan seemed even more ridiculous now.

"Maybe I can help with that," the sleeping man mumbled. Nate pulled me closer as the really sickly guy sat up in what I hoped was a puddle of sweat. "Cover the little girl's eyes." He coughed and crawled to the blood. Then he drank it... like literally downed the whole tube, then two more after that one. "That's better. Much better."

It was so disgusting that I almost didn't notice I was in Nate's lap. Almost. But it wasn't the time to comment on it, not while the guy sucked down blood and licked the remnants from his lips like it was fudge. The nuns would call him a demon—not a vampire, apparently they didn't exist. They were only evil spirits inhabiting human bodies that were demented enough to drink blood. And because I'd been raised to think that, I was terrified of him.

"Is he going to go potty again?" Kelsey asked. Mallory shushed her, and Paul laughed. He and Emma weren't trembling like I was. I looked back, and Nate was glaring at my arm, not at the... whatever he was.

"No, sweetie, I'm not," he said. As the color came back to his skin, I saw that he was actually kind of handsome. "Because we are about to get out of here. If they think you're a witch, you must have human powers, and this is obviously my lucky day. Did you make her drop the needles?" I shook my head. At least I didn't think I had. "She's just really dumb, then. I know her boss is. The blonde guy. Complete idiot. Now that I have a little strength, I might be able to help." His voice was southern and charming and... Emma really noticed how cute he was.

Paul pushed her. "Stop staring," he said.

"They're done," Nate said, pulling out the last three needles. The evidence of our scheme was all over my arm. Nate saw, too. "Can I?" he asked, raising my arm to his mouth.

I nodded, and he licked the puncture wounds. "Ewww," Kelsey said. Her mother shushed her again.

"Do you have the rest of this forecasted, gorgeous?" the former sickly, now handsome, man asked me.

"No," I whispered.

"I can help. I've been here for two weeks. They bring in new prisoners every few days. They either join them or..." He sighed, looking at Kelsey. "They get K. I. L. L. E. D." Thankfully, she didn't put the word together. "Let me handle it," he said. "Follow my lead when they come back."

He stuffed the rest of our evidence in his pocket, the unused blood and all—possibly a snack for later.

"This will work," Emma whispered. "They'll just... let us go." No one answered her childishly hopeful thought. "How much time do we have?"

"Probably less than an hour," the guy said. I was too scared and tired to ask his name.

"I think you're going to faint soon. You should rest," Nathan whispered in my ear. "Do you want me to put you down?"

I looked up, right into the eyes that hated me the other day. I wanted to ask him to take me back, but since I couldn't take knowing that he was only being nice because we could die soon, I just shook my head and nestled on his chest.

I didn't fall asleep completely. Faintly, I heard them talking about how Remi had asked Emma if she could have her wizard boyfriend bring her to Texas to see her. Sophia had told them to stay away in the one brief moment that they'd seen her after the blow up at my house, but Emma agreed to meet at a bar out of habit of saying yes to Remi. Paul went to protect her. Nate went to give her a piece of his mind. She pretended to apologize to them. They remembered eating half of an appetizer, then waking up in this cell. Liam had taken Mallory and Kelsey from a nearby restaurant by himself. They were his offerings, we were Remi's. And Phillip, the... whatever he was, couldn't be killed easily, so he was being tortured in the cell, wanting to drink his cellmates every day but restraining himself.

It dawned on me as I floated somewhere between sleep and awake that I shouldn't think of Lydia or being a copy around people who could read minds. Liam obviously couldn't read mine because he thought I was a witch.

"Think she's going to be able to walk in those after giving so much blood?" Emma asked, sounding three miles away. I felt my shoes come off. "I think I can fit them." Other shoes, lighter ones, went on. "I love these. I wonder if she'll let me borrow them."

Besides the fact that it was wishful to think we'd be alive to share shoes after tonight, those weren't mine. At least I didn't think so. They could belong to the person I couldn't think about.

Our cell door opened and startled me awake in Nate's arms. Remi looked better, like her face hadn't collided with concrete. Liam shoved her out of the way so he could walk in first. I wouldn't call him handsome. He looked like an average guy, like the boys at school, but older. Thirty, maybe.

"Test the blood then get yours in line, Remi. They'll be after mine," Liam said.

Phillip gestured to Mallory to cover Kelsey's eyes. He stood behind Liam, and I wanted to cover mine, too. He grabbed him by the neck and raised it to his teeth. While we braced for a bite, he reached in Liam's pocket and pulled out a radio.

"Transport to sector five. There are humans here," Phillip said, in a perfect imitation of Liam's voice.

He dropped Liam and stood over him, waiting for him to stand. Remi jumped at Phillip with a needle in her hand. He smacked it and it shattered on the ground.

"Listen, Liam. She lied to you. We are human," Nathan said.

Liam scrambled to his feet, pointing at Phillip then at Nathan. "Liars. You will be tortured for what you just did."

"No, it's true!" Emma said. "We can prove it."

Phillip kneeled in front of Kelsey and peeled the tape slowly away from her needle. She remembered to cry. It was very convincing. She may have a future in acting... if she lived through this. "Test it," Phillip said.

Liam took a lighter from his pocket and tipped the vial over it. This time, I was glad to see nothing happen.

"I watched you!" Liam said. "I was sure. Shit! He's going to kill me. A human kid. Shit!"

"I know for a fact that mine are not," Remi said.

"Test me," I said, holding my arm out. It was the only one still inside a vein. She did the test and gasped. The rest of them pulled out their needles before it could be done for them.

"Something's wrong. They're... I don't know... they did something. Let's just bring them to him. He'll get to the bottom of it."

"Shut up! You answer to me. I should've known when you couldn't get me pictures of them in action. Don't say another word, Remi. Understood?" Remi nodded and bowed her head. She didn't seem like someone who'd submit so easily. Maybe the purging had changed that. Or maybe she was afraid of him. I didn't know for sure. I was entirely too tired to hang on to any of the whispers in the air.

Liam snatched his radio from Philip when the rest of their tests came back negative. "Hurry with that transport. Now!"

"If you don't walk me out with them, I'll make you both my dinner," Phillip said. Liam nodded and unchained us from the wall.

When transport came, Liam prepped us to keep quiet in the halls and threatened to find us if we ever breathed a word of this to anyone. Nathan held my hand the entire time. The outside air was cool and salty, and waves crashed against the shore, too calm to say we'd just walked out of hell. To my surprise, Liam pointed to a boat and ordered us to move towards it. I'd assumed transport was a person with the power to bring us home.

"You are making a big mistake, Liam," Remi said as we pushed through the sand. "We can't go in there with nothing. This is my big night. My first night with him. I can't fail!"

He groaned as Mallory lifted Kelsey inside the boat. Then Emma and Paul went. Then Phillip. Nate stepped in and turned around to lift me up.

"Okay. Her. We can take her," Liam said. "The famous one. We'll say we got her because of that. If he blood tests her and finds magic, then it will be a plus. Maybe... maybe it will work."

While we were stunned, Liam, who apparently had an infinite supply of needles, pulled another from his pocket. Nate grabbed it before he jammed it into my neck and crushed it in his hand.

Liam winced and glared at me. "If you don't come, everyone on the boat is getting off," he said. "Your choice."

It was an easy one to make.

"Okay," I whispered.

"I'm staying, too," Nate said. I shook my head at him, trying to push him away. He held my arms against my side and pressed his forehead against mine. I gave up. He wasn't going to leave me.

Freedom was so close, and it was snatched out of my reach. Emma and Paul yelled for us as the boat sped away from the shore, and Remi and Liam pushed us back inside.

# Chapter Fifteen

"We'll take credit for them both. Understand?" Liam whispered to Remi. She nodded. "Did you practice?"

"Yes, Liam, a thousand times. I told you I would."

He sighed. "You'll understand when you have a student. It's nerve wrecking. All of mine have died. I can't fail again. I won't get another chance."

We walked up flights and flights of stairs and then down a long hallway, a glint of light ahead of us.

"C-13, exit," a voice said in the distance. A glass door swung open and a figure stepped out. From here, it looked like a boy, my age or a little older. He met the large man who'd called him out of there and turned on his heels like a soldier. "C-14, exit," he said. Another boy stepped into the hall, slow and controlled, as we walked closer. Liam and Remi slowed. So did my heart. "C-15, exit." Another boy emerged and got in line behind the others. "Liam, you may pass."

They motioned us to start walking again. Nate had to pull me. I couldn't move. They'd come from three rooms with glass walls and doors and pure white furniture. It was clean and neat, no mess other than a few books on the beds and floors.

"Triplets," I whispered, when I saw their faces. They were dressed in stretchy black pants and shirts, muscles pushing at the fabric. "Copies," I whispered, even softer. Nate tightened his arms around me, pulling me further away from what my life could have been, where my life could be headed.

At the end of the hall, Remi and Liam pulled wide hoods over their heads. The room we stepped into looked like a chapel. Candles flickered all around us. Nate held me so close that I heard his heart pounding against my ear.

More robed figures pushed past us, some with one or two frightened prisoners in their grips. The triplets marched to the front. I'd lost blood and been drugged. I needed a bed, not to be made to kneel on a marble floor. Liam forced Nate to kneel closer to him. I wanted to grab his hand and try to escape, but I felt like I did in the shower before my fit—woozy, jittery, like I'd hurt myself by trying.

I inched to my left, closer to Nathan, and Remi grabbed my arm. She didn't speak, but the look in her eyes was such a terrible mix of fear and anger that I knew neither of us could move right now.

"Those who willingly enter his quarters, let your voice be heard," a rough voice like crackling fire said.

"I willingly come," they all said together, one voice, well trained.

Footsteps interrupted the silence. Well, as silent as this room could get for me as my growing strength allowed me to hear them again.

"Greet me," a man said, passively like he was bored.

I looked up at him, and my heart stopped. Kamon was as handsome as he was in Lydia's memories, just with graying hair in one spot. He'd kill Nate and breed me for sure if we didn't get the hell out of here.

Remi peeked up at him, awestruck and teary eyed. He was the man she wanted to impress, not Liam. She'd followed a witch around for him. I remembered what she'd said on the phone call I'd eavesdropped on. She'd said that Sophia always told Emma where not to party. Sophia would know exactly where Kamon was at all times, and Remi latched on to Emma in hopes of finding him. She wanted to be here. She was never obsessed with Nate. She was obsessed with the man who would've drowned me.

"Hail, Kamon. We assemble today to show our undying loyalty for making us whole, our commitment to learning your ways, and our devotion to your cause."

Right hands shot up into the air everywhere.

"And to you, Julian, we pledge to avenge your death, but stray from your flawed path." My hands balled into fists, suddenly more upset with the dead man than the person I couldn't think about. "To you, Kamon, my Master, my Lord, you have made me what I am. Without you, I have no home. No life. I am nothing. Please accept my humble praise."

Kamon sat back in an ornate black throne. He crossed his legs and raised his chin. He had to really believe he was a king, no a god, to these people.

"I accept," he said, like it was a bother to speak to them. The hooded figures bowed their heads again. Only the prisoners and the triplets who were standing near his throne were left with stretched necks. "Who has something for me?"

Remi pulled me up, and Liam grabbed Nathan. I reached for his hand but missed.

There was a clear hierarchy with the hunters, and Liam and Remi were at the bottom. They moved us out of the way each time a hunter stepped in front of them with their offering. We ended up at the end of the line.

One at a time, the offerings, mostly witches and wizards, were brought before Kamon. Ten passed, accepting his offer to be purged, until the first one objected. The stocky man was covered in dirt and scratches, like he'd been fighting.

"C-14," Kamon said, chuckling. The middle triplet stepped up, and the stocky man thumped to the ground, his neck cracking without C-14 moving a muscle.

No one else objected.

Then it was our turn. Liam and Remi bowed to Kamon. Liam took another step up and bowed again.

"Master, we have brought you two offerings today," Liam said. "Both human. I pray you accept them."

"Do they willingly come?"

"No, Master."

Kamon laughed and leaned forward. "Then you'd better have a good reason for bringing them here. Julian was dismembered because he chased after those who didn't worship him like I did," he said, his voice darkening with each word. Dismembered? Wow. No wonder I wasn't allowed to see that happen. "Surely, you don't expect me to make that mistake."

"No, Master," Liam said.

Kamon glared at me. His eyes were a hypnotizing mix of green and brown with a hint of blue. That's when I realized I was staring.

"Are you sure they're human?" Kamon asked, tilting his head to the side, eyes still locked with mine. "They're awfully silent."

I knew he meant our thoughts and I was grateful. At least her... well our... secret was safe.

"We aren't sure, Master," Remi said. "We need you to figure it out for us." Liam turned around and raised his hand, poised to slap her.

"Drop your hand. She isn't talking to you. When did you become her master?" Kamon said. He motioned Remi forward and smiled at her. She actually blushed. "Tell me why you need your master to figure out a simple blood test?"

Her hands shook, and she took a loud breath. "I never want to disappoint you with a mistake. I am nothing. I need you for everything. I think we all do." Her tone sent chills up my spine. She sounded brainwashed. Insane.

"Remi..." Kamon said. Her face lit up, like she was surprised he knew her name. "I think you should sit in the front from now on. Liam has no business leading someone smarter than him." Remi fell to his feet, and I jumped. Nathan pulled me closer, but I couldn't try to escape. I was too worried for her. I knew how her life would unfold. She'd live to please him, possibly be bred. If she ever changed her mind, ever decided not to be devoted to him, he would make her life hell. "Get up, pet. Take your spot." I shivered. Julian used to call Lydia that. Remi stood with a face full of tears and ran to where he pointed, at the feet of the triplets. "Liam, you may return to the back."

"Thank you, Master," he said.

Kamon stood from his throne, and Nate stepped in front of me. "Cute," Kamon said. I wrapped my arms around Nate and tried to pull us back to my house. I shook, so hard that Nate tried to steady me, so hard that my nose leaked blood on his back. "Excuse me, young man. Give her to me."

"No!" Nate yelled.

Kamon chuckled. "How do you humble a man, boys?"

"Make him a prisoner of the ground, Master," the triplets said together.

As I held him, Nate's back twisted, and he fell. He screamed, shaking all over. I reached for him, but Kamon flung him to the back of the room with a gentle wave of his hand. He moved closer to me, smiling, and I knew it was over. I also knew that because of the horror demented men like him had done to my family, I couldn't cry or show an ounce of fear.

"Who trains you?" he asked, smiling, as charming as a prince from a fairytale. I didn't answer, just stared at him while I contemplated spitting a mouthful of blood in his face. "Who owns you?"

"No one."

He laughed. "You are bleeding. You're either well bred or poorly trained. Join me. I can help you. You strike me as someone who belongs here. Do you feel at home, staring at them?" he said, pointing to his brainwashed followers on their knees. "Or perhaps them?" he said, pointing to the triplets.

I knew with unsettling certainty that if Kamon had gotten to me before Sophia, this offer would have been appealing. To finally be among people like myself, to finally not be an oddity. I would have joined him. I would have thought I was meant for this. But Sophia had gotten to me, so living alone in a glass box and being a killer would never be okay. I would rather die.

He reached his finger out and slowly collected my blood on his nail. His touch infuriated me, and his finger snapped as I stared, twisting painfully away from the knuckle. I'd never broken a bone before, but I'd imagined doing it hundreds of times. I didn't even feel myself do anything. He grunted, but moved away as more of his fingers bent in the wrong direction. I wasn't even looking at them. Then his right arm went. Then the left.

He howled, and an arm wrapped around my stomach.

Lydia turned me around. Her eyes were burning, and she was shaking all over. I knew it was because of me. Because she couldn't handle the thought of me being hurt. I wanted to jump in her arms, thank her for saving me. Every piece of me knew she wouldn't push me away, but we were around the man she wanted her child hidden from. Witnessing a world she never wanted me to see.

I pointed to Nathan, and she nodded.

"Get him," she said.

I ran to him. He was stiff and straining, maybe to keep from shifting.

Lydia circled Kamon, shuddering. He laughed.

"Shut up," she said, but I hadn't heard him say a thing. "I could end you right now if I wanted to."

He laughed again, stretching his mangled arms, breathing in like he enjoyed the way it felt. "But you won't. You know what will happen if you do. You've taken a student, I see. Maybe two? A boy and a girl. I thought you were against that."

She jumped at Kamon but caught herself before she touched him. "This will be over soon," she whispered.

"I know. I've seen it, too. You must be afraid," he said.

She walked away without turning back. She didn't look afraid at all. She took my hand and lifted Nathan with the other. I was seconds from this nightmare being over, but I suddenly felt more fearful than I had the entire time.

"Remi!" I screamed, like her life depended on it. She was the reason why we were here, but I knew more about this world than she ever could. I knew how it ended, how the decision to stay here would infect the rest of her life. "Please come with us."

She said nothing, didn't even look up. On her knees, she looked hollow, like the little personality she'd had a few days ago had been snuffed out. I wondered what she would smell like to Nathan now. I wondered what I could have done to stop it.

"I'm sorry, but we have to go," Lydia said.

We left the chapel in an instant, leaving Remi behind to fester with Kamon. And all of those people, and the triplets, too. If she wasn't afraid of what he was doing, I had enough fear for the both of us.

# Chapter Sixteen

Sophia swept me up in a hug a moment after we left the chapel. She was crying harder than she had last night.

"My love," she said. "You're okay. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Sophia," I said. "Where are Paul and Emma?"

"My house. They were dropped off in the middle of nowhere and got home. They called me, and we found you as fast as we could."

"And the others?"

"All fine. Thanks to you, I hear," she said, holding me the tightest she'd ever held me.

I saw the room when she let me go. We must have been in California. The furniture was newer and sleeker. It wasn't separated into two rooms like Vincent and Cecilia's. A black loveseat faced away from the rest of the room in front of a flat screen, sectioning off a sitting area. The bedroom was black and white with random hints of color like the yellow lamp, blue pillows, and green rug. I marveled at the careful and interesting design until Lydia groaned as she put Nate down on the bed.

Right, his back had made an awful sound. I ran to them, and she flipped him over. His cries weren't human, and they brought tears to my eyes.

"Sleep," she said, touching the back of his head. His breaths slowed and his cute snores followed. "Can you..." She darted her eyes to me then back to him. "Hear him?"

"No. Kamon couldn't either," I said. "I guessed his middle name. That's it."

"Thomas," she whispered. "Human given. Theresa." She shivered. "Strange." While I would have loved her to solve the mysteries in his past, it felt like his present and future were more pressing at the moment. I pointed at his back, and she pulled his shirt over his head. "His spine. It's broken." The scream stuck in my throat. I just wanted this awful day to be over. How many more times would I feel like I was dying? "It's healing by itself already. I just need to set it right. He's going to be fine. Do you want Sophia to check you out?"

Sophia didn't wait for me to answer. I told her about the sedatives as she ran my bathwater. She cleaned the blood from my face and made me drink two glasses of water and one of orange juice before I got in the tub. After, she snapped and brought us to the kitchen. It was similar to the kitchen in New Orleans, just with darker wood and red chairs.

I wasn't in the mood to eat, but she forced a sandwich down my throat.

"You don't want to go and be with Emma and Paul?" I asked. She shook her head, but I didn't believe her. "They're your family, Sophia, and you've been with me for days." We'd both jumped forward and backward on the clock, and I'd bet she hadn't slept like I had.

"I love you like my own family, and this could have all been avoided if I didn't bring Remi into your home. Or if I hadn't gone through your phone and decided to give you and Nathan some time alone before intruding. Or if I'd let your moth—-... Lydia handle everything and didn't intrude in the first place. She isn't speaking to me, and I am the most afraid of her when she's this silent."

I knew why she would be. Lydia had nearly killed her for calling me a copy. And even without that, Lydia was pretty terrifying.

For the first time, I initiated a hug with Sophia. She needed it.

"Go home. Go to bed," I said. "I'll tell her I'm fine, and if she's still mad, you and I can team up against her. She can't take us both." She laughed, and I pulled back to kiss her on the cheek. "And you've taken great care of me. I can't imagine what I would be doing today if you hadn't come to get me. I wouldn't have friends. And I wouldn't have you."

She wiped her eyes and kissed me a million times, all over my face. "You're nothing like her. Not even a little bit," she said.

When she left, I took a tour so I didn't have to see Nate all broken and mangled. Outside, I found a pool that Sophia hadn't filled.

"A pool house," I said, walking closer to it. I'd seen one in the cheer-off movie. The captain lived in one instead of sleeping in the house with her parents. It was more convenient for her boyfriend. I opened the door and peeked inside. There was a little kitchen and open space where I guessed a bed or a sofa would be. In the movie, it was a bed, with clothes scattered all over the floor.

In the big house, there were six bedrooms, none furnished but mine. I was meant to live here alone.

The living room was amazing. The light blue sofa was long and a semi circle. It could probably seat ten. I walked over to my new movie library that surrounded the TV, impressed and excited. I wondered how Sophia knew that I'd love all of these cheesy, predictable movies when it was a shock to me. Maybe she knew that despite being the product of a seriously tragic love story and growing up depressed and lonely, I was still a teenager.

"Hi," Lydia said. Her voice made my heart twinge. I hadn't noticed she had on all black like a hunter until then—a black turtleneck, black pants, and long black boots. I waved without speaking, still taking her in. She could pass for my sister, well... half sister. She definitely looked too young to have a seventeen-year-old daughter. "He's fine. Knocked out, but fine."

"Thanks."

I hadn't noticed the clock on the wall until then. It was quiet enough to hear the seconds pass.

"Can we talk about what happened?" she asked.

"Which part?" I whispered.

She chuckled and sat on the sofa. "Right... you've had a rough couple of days." I sat unnecessarily far away from her. One more inch to the left, and I would've been on the floor. "You saved their lives. Do you feel like a hero?"

"No," I said. It came out dryer than I'd meant it to.

I listened to the clock for a minute as she drummed her fingers on her knees. She stretched her neck to both sides, making the silence even more awkward.

"What was Kamon talking about?" I asked. "What should you be afraid of?"

"Nothing. Kamon doesn't scare me."

That sounded like a lie, to keep me calm, it seemed. I felt like she'd lost the right to lie to me, however. "It sounded like he meant you couldn't kill him."

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous fidget. "I can't." The tense silence asked why for me. "To me, he is Kamon, the man who could hurt my child. To the world he is, Dr. Kamon Yates. After Julian, I wanted to kill him, but he disappeared. He used to send letters to my office to taunt and threaten me. He was a ghost for a decade, constantly eluding me. About seven years ago, he emerged at a benefit in his honor. Julian trained me to fight, and he had Kamon in a lab most of the time. He's very smart. His research has cured quite a few diseases and caused many advances in medicine. Specifically, a form of childhood cancer. So, while I have wanted to kill him and remove that threat to you, it hasn't been possible. It still isn't. And if I did, let's say blow his home up like I did with Dreco, he has people in place waiting to expose me and the agents and the hunters for what we really do."

I couldn't do anything but shake my head. Kamon was an evil genius, using science to appear as a good man to the world. Like Julian used politics, I guessed. Of course the Special Defensive Coordinator for the U.N. couldn't kill someone like that, someone who healed sick children. And Nate and I had met him, possibly gotten on his radar. Wonderful.

"Don't worry about him," she whispered. "He'll never... ever touch you again. No one will hurt you."

That sounded like a vow. One she'd made long ago. The tremor in her voice darkened the mood. Our past rushed into the room, fast, threatening to drown us both or force us to float together. She leaned into her knees and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"Christine." She sniffed, crying already, drowning already. "How about I start with the truth Sophia and I should've told you days ago?" She took a loud breath and closed her eyes. "You are my baby who I've always wanted to protect but somehow manage to hurt instead."

Her breath caught, and she covered her face.

"First, by leaving you. Second, by giving you powers and making you deal with them on your own. I had my eye out for obvious things. I never saw you do anything, and your grades were average... not like you could know things without studying. I thought it meant you were normal."

I hadn't thought about it that way. She would've seen what I wanted everyone to see—my performance of a shy, human girl. One who never cried. "I hid it well, I guess."

"There aren't many things that can be hidden from me, so it's not an excuse. I should've known more about this... when I was carrying you and hurting you with my powers, when you were transporting all over your dorm on accident. I let myself be clueless."

"Why?" I asked.

She leaned back on the sofa, wiping her eyes. "I think I'm... delusional. I was, anyway. You were safe from the dozens of horrible futures I'd seen about you, so in my mind, nothing else could be wrong. And I mostly watch you when you're sleeping. Especially the last few years." She huffed and paused for a minute, sniffing and whimpering. "I knew Whitney had left, but I didn't see it. I didn't see why. I figured you'd had enough of her. I found her to be terribly annoying. I assumed the other girls were annoying too and you preferred to be alone. I assumed... too much."

I refused the tears building in my eyes. I thought if I closed them, the tears would be trapped there, and I wouldn't have to cry for the millionth time.

"You didn't think I was lonely? You didn't think I was hurting from being picked on?"

I wanted to say, you didn't think I needed you?

"I didn't see it. It's not an excuse. I know. But I saw... my baby. I saw what I wanted to see. You sleeping every night. Growing. Alive."

"You ignored me," I countered. "And you would have ignored me forever. Let me be alone forever." I was winning the battle with the tears, but the rest of me was crumbling under the weight of this. I heard her move right next to me on the sofa. I felt safe, like she wouldn't let me drown, so I jumped into what we were really talking about. "You gave up after you killed Julian. You sat in that forest and you let them take you. You let them take my mother from me."

In the moments it took for me to catch my breath, the obvious truth nipped at me, impossible to ignore. I imagined her sitting in that forest, covered in blood, and I knew why she'd sat there. How do you put one foot in front of the other when you dismember someone without the help of a weapon? She didn't move because she couldn't move.

"Well... after... after you should've come to get me," I said, clinging to my point. "No matter what. You should have fought whoever could have hurt me, tried harder to find Kamon. You put so much energy into making the world safe and you left enough threats behind that I still needed to stay buried. That's stupid. It's ridiculous. It's like you let the Lydia who was my mother die."

It became eerily quiet again as I stumbled on another truth. That Lydia Gavin, the girl she became in the diary, had died. Whether it was from leaving us or dismembering the man who beheaded her parents, she was gone.

"I know. I'm sorry, and I don't deserve your forgiveness. I'm not even asking for it. I just can't live with you thinking you were in any way unwanted. I love you more than anything in this world. Nothing has come close from the moment I knew you were living inside of me."

The tears seeped under my closed lids, begging me to see her side. However rash and delusional her decision was, she'd done it out of fear and love.

Like I was speaking for the baby who'd woken up without her mother, and the lonely little girl who'd missed her so much she formed a habit of sniffing oranges, I whispered, "How could you think I would get over you leaving? I missed you so much."

Just as I broke, she pulled me to her lap. I folded instantly. Surrendering to that scent. To her. It was a strange feeling, getting my strongest need met without ever knowing I needed it. To be held by my mother. The woman who smelled like oranges and left me with nuns who didn't smell like this. I didn't want to cry anymore. My brain was wired to feel calm here. And satisfied. And safe.

"I don't regret hiding you, baby, because I know you would've been hurt because of me. Either by Kamon or being stuck in solitude with me. I wanted you to have a normal life. That's why I brought you there. That's why I kept you there. But I do regret how you've felt about yourself. The magic. The devil. I could die knowing you had to deal with that."

She lifted my face up and kissed my nose. God, this felt so natural, so right. Tears fell from her eyes onto my cheek. She was shaking and I was calm. Maybe too calm.

"Wednesday," she whispered. "Your future shifted away from what it had been for years—leaving St. Catalina at graduation. I got worried, and I left work to check on you through the mirror. You were eating in the courtyard by yourself. Normally, I'd see that you were alive and go back to work. But I waited to see what could possibly be changing your life so drastically that I'd felt it in Paris. Then I saw them picking on you. I saw everything I should have seen. Everything I missed. I'm so sorry."

I sighed, adjusting in her lap, finding an even more comfortable spot. I didn't know what to say to that, so I went with nothing. She was right, she should've known. She should've made sure I wasn't dying there. But in her arms, as calm as I was, I didn't want her to feel worse about it.

"I thought I could fix things and Sophia thought she could, too. And tonight... God... you ended up exactly where I never wanted you to be. Again, because I wasn't watching." She squeezed me, shaking and crying, unraveling more.

"But you came. I'm safe now," I whispered, breathing in her scent. Absently, I ran my fingers through her hair. I dropped it because she was Lydia Shaw, and that was weird. And I was pretty sure I was supposed to be yelling at her right now. She kissed my cheek. I smiled and played with her hair again. With my eyes closed, I could feel myself floating to a different time. Where I was completely content. Where I loved and felt loved. "I remember you so vividly. How weird is that?" I asked.

"Not weird for you. Your memory is advanced. I knew that was a characteristic of copies, but I don't think of you like that, so I've never considered it. I never thought about you missing me because... you remembered me. I didn't think about a lot." I didn't bother trying to fill the silence. I was busy twirling her hair around my fingers, loving the feel of it, remembering the feel of it. "And once and for all, let me just say, you are not evil."

She shook me a little for emphasis. I chuckled. "Okay. Somehow, you saying it makes it real," I said.

"Good. You have powers, but you were not bred. You have your own personality. You don't act like me at all. You're actually nice."

I chuckled again. "You let magical kind live. That was nice."

"That was Sophia's doing. I couldn't care less. They actually give me more work to do. Life would be easier if they were extinct." She laughed. "See? You would never say that. Totally not my copy."

"But... the anger. I flash out so easily. My nose bleeds, too."

"Everyone gets angry. It doesn't mean you're a copy."

I pulled my knees in tighter, feeling two days old. "But what about the nosebleeds? And I think I had a seizure in the shower the other day."

"Seizure! Doing what?" She lifted my head, inspecting my eyes. I smiled. I loved how rattled she got over me.

"Trying to find out something about Remi. She wasn't in the house, but I found her and I could hear and—"

"See her?" I nodded. "Being in someone's mind that way is dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. Please don't do that anymore." Her reprimand burned even though her tone was sweet. I frowned and tucked my head under her chin, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, baby. I just want you to be careful. People with natural powers often hurt themselves because they push themselves too far. They don't know when to stop because they feel too confident and capable. That's where the nosebleeds come from. Straining. Just be careful. You just have to concentrate and take your time and listen to your body when it says to stop."

She rocked me a little, and I nuzzled my forehead against her neck like I'd done it a thousand times.

"Okay. Oh, I remember your song. I sing it all the time."

"I know," she said, crying harder. "I hadn't watched you take a bath since the nuns stopped bathing you. Sophia tried to pull me away from a memory because you were in the shower, but you were singing that. I think my heart stopped."

I smiled, wishing I could have seen her and Sophia jumping around in my head now. Their weird relationship would have been funny to watch.

"You must use the same shampoo," I said.

"I do. It's something my mom used to make for me."

I let her cry for a while without interrupting while I played with her fingers. They were slender and long like mine.

"Do I really own this house? And the one in New Orleans?"

"You own this one as of last week when Sophia mentioned it when you made her scramble for a better lie. You've always owned the one in New Orleans. Once I learned Kamon hadn't been there when Julian killed my parents and didn't know about that house, I put it in your name. The school promised to give you your bank account information at eighteen. The keys to the house and other things like my mother's jewelry were waiting for you at the bank in New Haven."

Wow. If I hadn't lost it after the fire alarm, I would have gotten a wonderful surprise next year. But I would've lived there alone. I was glad things happened this way.

I concentrated on how her chest moved when she breathed. I remembered the rhythm, how I used to move with it. I'd missed that when she disappeared. I waited another minute before I continued with my questions.

"Why do you still work for the government if you never wanted to?" I asked.

"I don't have much of a choice. I am technically a murderer. On multiple counts. If I didn't want to be found, I could make it that way, but I don't. I wouldn't have a life either way."

I suppressed a sigh, hoping she wasn't reading my mind. I didn't want to fight with her, but I didn't agree with any of this. She certainly hadn't made me as irrational as she was. I could clearly see that she should've killed Julian without leaving my dad and me.

I didn't think like her. I wasn't her copy, which meant my emotions and my sanity were my own. I didn't flash out because of her. I wouldn't be suicidal because of anyone. I'd had a hard life. I'd been picked on every day. It wasn't magic. It wasn't my mother. It was me, and I could control me.

I measured my thumb against hers, then the rest of my fingers. Her nails were filed to severe points, almost claws. I wondered how'd they look polished, probably a lot less scary.

"Why would I be able to read your mind? You asked me not to in Paris," I said.

"You could if you tried. The more you practice anything, the better you get, and you were born with my powers. That makes you stronger, even though you haven't been trained or explored nearly half of what you can do."

Stronger than Lydia Shaw? And I had more powers? "Whoa," was all I could say to that.

"And you're smarter than me. I would have never thought to offer my blood to them. I would've blasted and fought my way out without thinking about it first. And I'd been in New Orleans for days getting your house ready, and I didn't sense my parents. I only messed with the spirit world once while I carried you, and you can do it well, without trying." Weird. I didn't think I was doing anything special with the ghosts. "I plan to ask Sophia to free their spirits from the house so they can move on... when I'm speaking to her again."

I laughed, happy for my grandparents and amused by her tone. Poor Sophia.

"I love her," I said.

She groaned. "Of course you do. She acts like a sweet old lady with you. With me she's a... never mind." We laughed hard for a minute. "Did you like those kids she brought to the house?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Especially... um... Nathan?"

I sighed. I was about to have to talk to the woman who saved the world from magic who happened to be my mother, about a boy who happened to be a shifter. Creepy.

"We were together, but we broke up because I lied to him about being a witch."

"I know. I was with Sophia when Emma called. I made her bring you to Paris because you were so heartbroken. I was going to lie and tell you I knew Catherine so you'd stop worrying about me finding you. But I couldn't lie when you mentioned the diary."

I knew why she would think being heartbroken merited a trip to see my long lost mother. She was dramatic when it came to love. Fall on her knees and beg, dramatic. Erase memories to save lives, dramatic.

"Wait!" I sat up. She wiped her eyes, and I closed mine. "Do you still watch me sleep?"

"Um..." I opened one eye. She was smiling. I fell back to her chest, mortified.

"What did you see?" I whispered.

She paused for an excruciatingly long moment. "The last time I checked in to see if you were sleeping, you and Nathan were watching, or not watching, a movie." I groaned, but at least she hadn't seen us in bed the night of my birthday. "I didn't tell Sophia because I didn't want her to be upset with your boyfriend, but I got the message that my baby had gotten too old for me to watch her sleep." She rubbed my back and chuckled. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm the obscene one, remember?"

"I was just upset. I know how much you loved..." I couldn't say his name, but I didn't have to. The mood changed instantly, like Christopher Gavin was sitting on the sofa with us now. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. He's your father. I'd say you're a little more than entitled to bring him up."

Talking about this was so much easier in her arms. I couldn't imagine how much I would've cried by now if I'd stayed in my seat. Since I was so comfortable, floating in her arms in our sea of problems, I decided to tackle the most uncomfortable part of the Lydia and Christopher conversation.

"You guys were so... um... into each other," I said and snickered.

"Oh, God," she moaned. "If my mother wasn't already dead, I'd strangle her for giving you the diary. I wanted to clear that room, I felt it. I felt like I needed to go through all the things I'd stashed in there. I was going to leave the paintings so you'd think they were Catherine's and have something from your past, but Sophia popped up with you before I could go through the boxes. And now my baby knows how insane I was. I can't believe you read all that stuff about us."

"I didn't. If it seemed like it was headed there, I skipped it. Which meant I skipped most of the diary." She laughed and thanked God a thousand times. "Do you miss him?"

"Every day."

"Is he married now?" I asked. "Does he have kids?"

She held her hand out in front of us, and the charmed mirror appeared in it. "No, to both. I don't watch him, but I did today since I figured you'd want to know. He's living in Chicago. He hangs out with the friends he had when we met. That means he's remembered the part of his life before me like I intended."

She whispered his name into the mirror, and it showed him. I smiled, bringing my nails to my teeth, tremendously happy to see him like I'd known him my whole life. He looked the same, low cut curly hair and handsome.

He, a guy on a keyboard, and a woman at a microphone were performing in a smoky club. The music was slow and smooth. The people there weren't paying much attention to them. Maybe they played there all the time.

"He's in a band?" I asked.

She nodded against my head.

We watched the whole set, she cried silently through the whole thing. I still didn't want to cry. I was in the most soothing place there was.

He leaned his guitar in the corner when the woman announced a five-minute break. He walked towards her, and I flipped the mirror over just in case they were together. I knew that would kill her.

He laughed, and she went deadly stiff. She sent the mirror away, maybe back to Paris.

"I can go to him and try to explain everything and help him recover his memories of me so you could meet him," she said, in the same tone someone would volunteer to drink poison in. "Whatever you want, I will do."

I took some time to think about that, listening to her cry, so comfortable I could sleep. What did I want?

Before any of this, I wanted to be invisible and good. Then I wanted Nathan to love me forever. Then to not feel shattered by Lydia. Now I'd wish for her to never let me go. I wanted to laugh about Sophia and meet my dad and be a family. But I wasn't delusional enough to believe that was possible.

Lydia loved me, and if she could be my mother and his wife, she would've been all along. She wouldn't have let me scream for her in that nursery if she didn't have to. This night would be nothing like this if she had a choice. I'd be a normal teenager, up in my room or in the pool house, avoiding her and Christopher. However wonderful that would be, this is how she had to love me – at a distance, but probably stronger than anyone had ever loved another person. I felt very sure that whatever danger that made her give me up seventeen years ago still loomed. If there was no threat, I would have met her the second after it was safe for me to.

The tears won then because I knew I had to say goodbye to my mother again.

I'd derailed her plan in the first floor bathroom when I decided to be a monster. Sophia tried to salvage it, but my secret and Remi, who I was still very much worried about, ruined that.

I wrapped my arms around her.

"I'd love to have you two as parents, but you know that can't work," I said, holding her tight. She broke and clutched me like I was about to disappear. "Have you thought about making me forget?" She nodded. "I think we should do that. I'd be in the way."

"You wouldn't be, baby, but it's the best thing. I thought you'd hurt less if you could believe in Catherine again. If you could go back to thinking your mother would never leave you if she was alive." She pulled my face up to look at her. "I know I hurt you—abandoning you, lying to you. You're taking it easy on me, but I know how devastating this must be."

I didn't say it, but I was more devastated that I hadn't gotten to sit in her lap like this over the years and that I wouldn't again. That upset me way more than the decisions she'd made.

Over the next ten minutes, she kissed me and told me she loved me too many times to count. I imagined this felt like being in front of the St. Catalina gates all those years ago. Or maybe the other times she'd lost me in her head.

"You'll fall asleep as I do it," she said. "I'll make this better. You'll feel so much better when you wake up."

I tightened my arms around her and inhaled. I kissed her cheek, something I couldn't do the last time we'd said goodbye. "I love you, Mom," I said. Her response was incoherent. "You'll be watching me, right?"

"Of course."

"Keeping me safe?"

"Of course."

"Be nice to Sophia."

"I'll try." Our chuckles were lost in the sobs. "Be happy, baby. With Nathan. With everything." I felt myself drifting to sleep. I wanted to change my mind and keep her, but I knew I shouldn't. I wanted to ask her to sing to me too, but I knew I wouldn't make it through the question without falling apart. "Bye, baby," she said.

"Bye, Mom."

She rocked me and started the song without me asking for it. She struggled through it, but I loved every second. As she sang that I was her love, her everything, I fell deep into darkness.

I couldn't believe my mother was someone famous, someone people bowed to, and she loved me. I wasn't someone's evil copy.

I came from a wonderful family who would've adored me every day of my life. A simple family with a normal life except for Julian. Catherine did everything she could to keep me safe. Raymond, too. They'd give anything to be here with me. But sometimes life is unfair and the people who love you are taken away. But I knew their love for me was strong and eternal, and that I should never wonder or worry about it again.

# Chapter Seventeen

I felt myself being lifted and carried, possibly up the stairs. I opened my eyes and screamed.

"You can walk!"

"Yep," Nate said. "It's three in the morning. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to give you your bed back."

"You could've slept in there. I was comfortable," I said, not really remembering when I'd fallen asleep. I'd wanted to watch a movie, but I guess I didn't make it that far.

"It's your bed," he said. He put me down at the door. "Your house, actually." I took in his mood and tapered my excitement. We weren't in danger anymore, and we were still broken up. "That was brave, what you did in the cell."

I walked to the bed, and he stayed miles away at the door. "You, too. Thanks for staying with me and standing up to Kamon."

He whispered, "No problem," and nothing else.

Because we'd stopped talking, I toured my new room. Sophia had taken me away so quickly that I hadn't seen it, and Lydia Shaw was in here working on Nathan. I'd fallen asleep before I could thank her for saving us.

Black and white pictures of beaches and cliffs in red frames lined the walls. The hints of color against the plain background of the room were more my style than the soft pinks I had before. Like Sophia knew what I'd like now because she knew me better. She had been working from a picture in a magazine she'd left open on the dresser.

"Are you going to sleep downstairs?" I asked, staring at the picture she'd copied perfectly. It was the only thing keeping me from crying and being dramatic like Catherine. My living room was in the magazine, too, minus some really cute pillows I hoped Sophia just hadn't gotten to yet.

"I was, but you're awake so I don't have to wait to apologize before leaving." I sighed. At least we'd had the time in Kamon's prison together. I flipped another page to a powder pink room Emma would like. "I'm sorry about what I called you and how I acted. You're obviously not a hunter. I feel awful. I feel stupid. Embarrassed."

"I shouldn't have lied to you."

"I get why you did. I wouldn't be too eager to tell you something that could've changed everything."

That stung more than I think he'd meant it to. Telling him what I was had completely ruined something that seemed so perfect before. Maybe it wasn't. We only dated for a few days. It wasn't like our ten-year marriage ended. I was sure there were bigger heartaches and way more depressing love stories than this. At least that was what I needed to think until he left and... then I'd break down.

"I'm not a copy, by the way. My parents really loved me," I said, like it was fact, not shaky like before. "My powers were an accident." I wasn't sure how I knew that, but it felt amazingly accurate. "Oh, yeah. Sophia knew my mom when she was a teenager. They didn't get along, but she wasn't a killer. Neither am I. I was just going through something that made me think awful things about myself. None of it was true."

"I'm sorry, Chris. I really am. When Sophia found me, she just shook her head at me. Then Emma and Paul, too. I knew that I'd made a huge mistake. I think I knew that while I was saying those awful things to you. When Emma told me you said hi, I wanted to call, but I was afraid to."

"What would you have said?" I asked, turning away from him and back to the pictures on the wall.

"I was thinking of begging... all animal puns intended." He laughed. I smiled, but he couldn't see. "Then I would've said what I should have said when you told me the truth, which was, 'Okay, baby. Thanks for telling me, but it doesn't matter'... then more begging." I walked over to the vase of flowers on the white nightstand, yet another random pop of color in the room. I brought one of the pink roses to my nose in the silence, proud of my performance. I was going for aloof. "You can hear my thoughts right now, can't you?"

I shook my head. "I think you're immune to people like me."

"Oh. How?" I hunched my shoulders. "Sorry. You just found out about all of this. I remember." At least he believed me now. "If I'd called you, what would you have said?"

I dropped the rose in the vase and looked at him dead on, right into those amazing eyes. And I crumbled. "I would've apologized again for lying. I would've told you how much I missed you. I would've begged you to forgive me."

"I guess I should've called." He smiled but twisted it away in the next second. "Is it too late for me to beg?"

"No," I said. He crossed the room in a moment and kissed me, reminding me of every reason I couldn't live without him. I didn't care how much I sounded like CC. I didn't care about anything. The things he'd said to me, being trapped by Remi, and some other dull ache that didn't have a name. None of it mattered. I just wanted to finally kiss him without holding some huge secret and wondering if he'd still love me.

"I'm sorry. It's okay that you're human. It doesn't matter. It never did. I was just insecure and an idiot. Even Paul called me a jerk and said he'd replace me as your boyfriend." He leaned in for another kiss. It lasted a while, a good while. "I love you. I'm sorry. Can I replace me as your boyfriend?"

"Yes." Just when I thought I'd cry, he turned into my goofy best friend and tickled me.

"Can we talk about the red lipstick and heels now?" he asked. I smacked his shoulder, embarrassed.

"I wanted to look sexy," I said.

"Mission accomplished." Somehow, we made it to the bed while we were kissing and laughing. It was like no time had passed at all, like nothing had ever happened between us. We healed as quickly as his spine. "Do you still have the lipstick?"

"Um... no." I spaced out for a moment, trying to think about where I'd gotten it. "Oh, it was for Lydia Shaw. Like... the Lydia Shaw." He looked at me like I was on fire. "Sophia works for her. And she... didn't want me to be alone in New Orleans... so she... brought me to work with her in Paris... I think."

Nathan babbled his disbelief for a minute. He thought Lydia had saved us by coincidence, but Sophia had sent her. He eventually stopped shivering because she was the reason he could walk right now.

"What time do you think you'll wake up?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I wanted to know what time I could stop by to see you tomorrow."

I pushed on his chest so he'd unpin me from the bed. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know yet. Somewhere. But you'll see me every day. I promise."

I almost pouted and whined, but I knew Nathan well. He didn't want to go. He just didn't want to be the kind of person who needed to stay with his girlfriend, especially after running out on her. I'd have to convince him to stay. I twisted my fingers in his hair, not interested in playing fair.

"Nathan, would you really let me stay in this big house all by myself after we escaped from a hunter?" He didn't answer, but he sniffed me. I'd won already. "You'll be here all day anyway. And didn't you say you sleep better with me?"

He nodded and kicked his shoes off, surrendering with ease.

We caught each other up on the last few days we'd been apart. He'd been at Sophia's, sharing a room with Paul. I didn't have much to tell. I'd been asleep mostly. I told him about the movies I'd watched in Paris. He wasn't looking forward to the movie marathon I had planned for tomorrow.

Fighting sleep, I told him everything I knew about my parents—the love story, the tragic ending caused by the man we heard Kamon's followers worship, and that their spirits floated around the house in New Orleans. He apologized with tears in his sleepy eyes for yelling at me and implying that I was disgusting and horrible. With his arms wrapped around me in bed, I felt anything but disgusting and horrible.

"I hate myself for saying that," he said. I was too tired to kiss him to show him I was over it, so I stuck my finger in his ear to make him laugh. And he tried to make me confess to tasting my own earwax as a child until we both fell asleep.

Kamon's prison smelled like mold and urine in my dream. I ran from cell to cell, opening the doors, freeing all the prisoners—witches and vampires and copies with bloody faces. I wanted to bring them to Lydia Shaw, but I didn't know where to find her. I'd get close, running into random houses, one with a laundry room I swore I'd been in, but she was never there.

The helpless people followed me, hoping I would be the one to save them, to end this. I knew I couldn't. I wanted to find the real hero. I wanted to meet her and tell her I'd worn her lipstick. The next door I came to felt like the one. I straightened my clothes, wanting to make a good impression. I opened it and a single orange rolled through the door and stopped at my feet.

# Epilogue

"You two had better have on clothes under there," Sophia said, shaking my shoulder. "Up. Up. Up. I see we'll need to set new ground rules."

Nathan scrambled out of bed, fully clothed, of course. "We just slept together," he said. Sophia gasped, and I laughed. "Literally slept!"

I got out of bed to show my clothes, too. Sophia tossed Nathan his duffle bag.

"Breakfast is ready. You have five minutes to get your butts to the kitchen before I come back up here to get you."

We laughed when she left, and he chased me into the bathroom for a smelly kiss. I grabbed my toothbrush first. "It's going to have to happen eventually," he said.

"Gross," I said, cringing at the thought of him tasting my morning breath.

Nate sniffed under his arms, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "I'm still good. I took a hobo bath last night before I woke you up."

I laughed and made him describe the specifics of a hobo bath. It shouldn't be called a bath at all.

"So... show me your powers," he said.

In our allotted five minutes, I moved two towels from the cabinet to us, showed him the fire, and then brought us downstairs. I was in serious need of a nap now.

Emma ran to me when we landed. "Chris! I was so worried!"

Her thoughts echoed that. I heard them immediately when she hugged me.

"I was worried, too," I said... because I wasn't a creep who couldn't hold a conversation anymore. Whitney would like Christine way better than Leah.

"Can I, dude?" Paul asked Nathan, nodding to me.

"Go ahead," Nate said. Paul picked me up and hugged me, too. This time, he wasn't thinking about my bra. He was just glad to be alive. "That's enough," Nate said.

We met Sophia in the dining room. Emma pulled me to the seat next to her, across from Nate. There was an empty chair with a full plate at the opposite end of the table from Sophia. She was expecting someone else, I guessed. I hoped it was Remi.

"First, Christine, everyone wanted to thank you again for being so brave," Sophia said. I looked down at my plate, uncomfortable with the attention. "And Paul and Emma have something to ask you."

Emma grabbed my hand. "Please, please, please, please, let us stay here. We'll pay," she said.

"I'll do all the chores. Cut the grass. Anything you ask. Please," Paul said. "I gotta get out of the house with my grandfather. He smells like mint and wrinkles."

"Watch your mouth," Sophia said, pointing her fork at him.

"Yes, you can stay. Oh, Emma, Sophia has a magazine with the perfect room for you," I said. "It's pink!" She smiled, and I gave her more good news—telling her about my collection of every predictable teen movie ever made. Nate wouldn't have to watch them with me after all.

I jumped when I heard the doorbell. The last time I'd heard a doorbell, I lost my boyfriend and my world crumbled. I could almost feel myself in pieces, too many to believe losing Nate had caused them all.

Sophia answered the door. Emma and Paul jumped out of their chairs when she came back with the guest—the Honorable Lydia Shaw.

I stood, too. I was the only one who remembered to bow.

"Relax and sit down," Sophia said. "This is my boss. She wanted to join us for breakfast to speak with you guys. Paul and Emma, I expect you to keep this from your parents like you do most things."

It was really awkward and tense as Lydia Shaw took the empty seat. Emma and Paul were still looking like she was about to cage them, and I... was staring at the woman I'd spent hours looking for in my dream.

"Thanks for saving us, Lyd... uh should I call you Your Honor?" I asked.

"Lydia will do."

I looked away because I was smiling too hard, like a crazed fan or something. I guessed since I'd wanted to see her so badly last night, I wasn't too nervous to talk to her. How Lydia Shaw had gone from my biggest fear to an idol in my mind was beyond me.

"On the news, you said you knew. Did you mean like you knew everything about me?" I asked. She nodded and lifted a forkful of eggs to her mouth. "And those things are... okay? My mother giving me powers and everything?"

"It's perfectly okay. I promise. Don't worry." She smiled at me, and I just stared because she was so pretty and so famous and... in my dining room. "The rest of you can relax too. I swear I'm not going to do anything to you," she said. Sophia motioned everyone to eat. "Emma, isn't it?"

"Yes," Emma whispered.

"I met your parents once. Nicholas and Lacy Arnaud, correct?" she said. Emma nodded again, visibly terrified. "Sophia said you're a nice girl and a very talented witch."

"Yes, ma'am. Nothing like my sister," Emma said, nervous and loud. Lydia chuckled, like Emma didn't need to offer that bit of information.

"And Paul, you're Sophia's youngest grandchild?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I've known Sophia a very long time, and oddly, I have never met your parents," she said. Sophia laughed. "Or any member of the Ewing family for that matter." Sophia Ewing? I felt entirely too close to her not to know her last name until then. Or Paul's. "I'm sure they're wonderful, and you, too, Paul." I hadn't stopped staring. I just averted my eyes each time she looked my way only to stare again a moment later. "I wanted to talk to you all about Kamon, what you saw, and also to make sure you understand how incredibly dangerous it would be to ever contact Remi Vaughn again."

Kamon and Remi cast a dark cloud over our star-studded breakfast. We all promised the famous woman to never speak to Remi again. Now that she was in Kamon's cult, she'd be our enemy forever because of my powers and their magic. She said, in a serious and terrifying voice, that if Kamon caught us again, even though she promised to be there if he did, he wouldn't waste time blood testing and talking.

"Christine," she said. Why was I so excited to hear her say my name? It freaked me out. It reminded me of Remi salivating over Kamon saying her name. "If you ever get tired of having nosebleeds and want to practice your powers, let Sophia know. She'll work you into my schedule."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." I grinned at my eggs. I was going to learn more psychic powers from the best there was. I wouldn't have to be afraid of Kamon or sedatives. "Nathan, you're awfully quiet," she said. He stammered through an apology. "How's your back?"

"Fine. Thank you." He looked at me then at her, then back to his breakfast. "Christine and I are together," he blurted out. "I love her. Please don't hurt me."

She and Sophia laughed. Slowly, the rest of us joined in. "I know that. I'm psychic, remember? And it's okay. As long as you don't shift in public, you two will be fine."

"Thanks," Nathan said, his hands still shaking.

"Speaking of public, Christine," Lydia said. "Since Sophia decided to so boldly take you from school in the midst of a crowd, it would be a great idea if you made an appearance to show the world you're still alive."

"Appearance?" I asked.

Sophia got up and put her hands on my shoulders, massaging them like I wasn't going to like this.

"Your school is interested in throwing you a welcome home party. It has been mentioned on the news already," Lydia said.

"Please. I really don't want to go back," I said.

"Not back... back. They have agreed to let you finish the rest of your classes independently. You'll only go for this party. Sophia, didn't you say this was a good idea?"

"Yes." I looked back at the traitor. "Please, sweetheart. It will settle everyone and you'll finally be able to move on with your life. Here, with your friends." I groaned because I didn't stand a chance of getting out of this with Sophia's sweet voice along with a command from Lydia Shaw. "They can go with you. You won't be alone."

"Fine," I said.

Emma, Paul, and Nate shook Lydia's hand when she stood to leave. I had the urge to open my arms for a hug and freaked myself out. I settled for a wave. She seemed fine with that.

When she left, me feeling oddly sad about it, Sophia gave us our new phone numbers that Remi didn't have and gave Nate a new phone since his was stolen.

Instead of watching movies, I helped Sophia and Emma with her room that was next door to mine. They had spells and snaps, and I had my mind... well until I was too tired, and then I had nothing. I needed to be penciled into Lydia's schedule sooner than later if I was going to make this a normal part of my life.

We moved on to Paul's room downstairs. It was way easier. He just needed a bed and dresser, and he didn't care if they matched.

"Nate's turn," I said. Sophia passed the empty room next to Paul's, across the hall from mine. We followed her downstairs, picking up Nate from in front of the TV on the way. She opened the back door, and I groaned.

"You'll be staying in the pool house, Nathan, and you have a curfew of eleven o'clock," she told him. "You'll never know when I'm watching, so you'd better sleep here every single night."

We didn't laugh about the curfew until Sophia left to go to work—meeting freaking Lydia Shaw in Tokyo. We'd find a way around that rule. She hadn't given me a curfew or said I couldn't sleep in the pool house with him.

Emma had the wonderful idea to turn one of the empty rooms downstairs into what she called The Girls Only room. It would be for movies and whatever else we decided to do in there. We covered the floor with pink and green pillows, her favorite color and mine. I had to crash on them after, completely exhausted.

"In her old room, mounted on a wall, I summon a television that will be useful to us all," she said, and it appeared. She clapped, and I added a listless hooray. "How about we get the boys to hook it up for us?"

We watched the guy I loved and the guy she pretended not to love hook up the TV and move every movie they would never want to watch into our room.

I realized it was the best day of my life some time around four. Emma and I had watched five terrible but awesome movies, and she'd somehow convinced me that we needed to learn the cheers from the last one. I sucked and had absolutely no coordination. She laughed when she saw that I'd resorted to watching and didn't scold me for not trying like Whitney would have.

Everything was perfect until Sophia came in and sucked all of the air out of the room.

"Hurry and get dressed, loves," she said. "I need to have you in New Haven by 7:30 their time."

Emma pulled out every shirt, dress, and skirt in my closet and scattered them across my bed.

"No," I said as she held up the mustard, see-through one.

"Good, I'll wear it." She changed right in front of me, and I rolled my eyes. The shirt looked infinitely better on her. "What about this?" she asked, holding up a black and green polka-dot dress.

"Okay. It'll do."

"It'll do? This stuff has tags that I don't think Sophia would copy. Do you know how much she had to spend on this dress? Of your money, probably. I doubt she can just afford to splurge like this with all the people she takes care of."

"She was just trying to cheer me up, but I'm happy now, so how about you take this," I said, handing her a pink blazer I didn't think I'd wear. "And this. And this, too," I said. She screamed and pulled the black mini skirt over her jeans, then pulled them off. The nuns were definitely going to hate her outfit.

"Oh... that reminds me," she said. She snapped twice and black pumps appeared in her hands. "Your shoes. Unless I can have these, too."

I stared at them. There was something inexplicably troubling about them.

"Oh!" I covered my mouth, embarrassed. "I stole those from Lydia Shaw." Her eyes widened and she threw them on my bed like she wanted nothing to do with them now. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll just give them back."

I threw a few pillows on top of them until I would turn them over to Sophia, ashamed of my theft from the famous woman.

I told Emma about Sienna and Whitney and how unpopular I was while she plucked my eyebrows and forced mascara on me. With make up on, there was no way I was also putting on heels – stolen or my own. I went with black flats, toppling her strut in like a model to show how awesome my life is plan.

We assembled in the living room. Sophia snapped and we landed in a SUV, all in our own seats.

Cameras flashed in the window, and I groaned. Nathan turned around in the driver's seat. "This is awesome! They think we drove in?"

"Yes," Sophia said. She reached over the seat from the third row and touched my shoulder. "Just breathe, dear," she said. For a moment, my mind blanked. I stared at her, waiting to be reminded of when she'd said that before. Her eyes were watery then. I was panicking. It must've been when I was here last, when I decided I was evil enough to take two lives.

Nathan opened his door and the press went nuts, snapping me out of the daze. Emma and Paul got out, too. I waited, like Sophia would change her mind and get me out of here.

"Come back when you're ready to go."

"I'm ready now."

She laughed. "Stay for a little while, dear. Call if I'm not inside," she said. Nate opened my door, and I stepped out, causing an uproar of questions and flashing lights. I looked back to Sophia, but I couldn't see inside the truck from out here.

"Ten minutes after a heavily tinted vehicle arrives at the school, Leah emerges with three teenagers," a reporter said, facing a camera, not us. Nate wrapped an arm around my waist as we pushed through the crowd.

"Leah! Leah! Care to comment on were you've been?" Ken asked. I answered because Nate and I had watched him.

"A few places," I said.

"What do you think about the rumors that a witch abducted you?" he asked.

"I think it's crazy," I said.

The cameras followed us into the gates and all the way to the doors of the main hall. Like I couldn't hear them, they reported that my behavior (showing up looking glamorous with teenagers I shouldn't know and holding hands with one of them) was suspicious. They added a new theory to the case—I'd run away all on my own and somehow used visual effects to pull off the flash of light.

Paul opened the door, and I held my breath. The feel and smell of the building made me want to wrap my arms around myself and stare at my shoes. Like he'd sensed it, Nate tightened his arms around me. The nuns were waiting in the hall in front of the main office.

Sister Margret approached me first. "Leah, I've been praying nonstop for you. I'm glad you're safe."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry that you won't be returning. We wish you well."

Great. Could we go now?

Sister Phyllis limped closer. "Her Honor said you requested that the things in your room be donated." I nodded, even though Lydia had made that decision without me. It was the correct one. I didn't want to go in there or take anything from my old life into my new one. "And we wanted to thank you for the wonderful idea to start an anti-bullying program and also for donating the rest of the money in your student account to that cause." Another great idea that wasn't mine.

"No problem," I said.

They ushered us down the hall. "Chris, I have a cause. Would you like to donate?" Paul said.

"What's it called?" I said. "The boys with fancy scarves cause?" We cackled in the hall. It had the same effect as spitting on the floor, showing that I was over this place, this building, being Leah. I was completely relaxed when we came to the gym doors.

Every head in the room turned to us. I looked up at the ridiculous banner that said: Welcome home, Leah.

The girls I grew up with and the guys I'd never interacted with applauded over the music. I couldn't focus on any of their faces. It reminded me of when I snapped, hallucinated, and beat up Remi.

Slowly, the attention turned away from us and back to drinking punch and nodding to music.

"This party is lame. Let's spice it up, Em," Paul said. He pulled her to the middle of the gym. Jaws dropped everywhere when they started dancing entirely too close together.

"Do you want to dance?" I bucked my eyes, and Nate laughed. "Maybe later." We sat at an empty table. The buzzing of human thoughts made my head spin. How had I done this all day, every day?

When the devil walked over, I clutched Nate's hand. "Want me to bite her?" he whispered.

"Maybe." We chuckled. It was the perfect moment for her to see. To meet Christine.

Whitney trailed a few paces behind Sienna as they made their way to us.

"So happy you're alive," Sienna said, with the fakest smile ever. "You look... different. Who's your friend?"

She looked back at Whitney, and they giggled.

"Nathan. Her boyfriend," he said. Neither of them believed him, but I was so over Sienna and Whitney and everything about them. In a week, I'd experienced real life and real problems, so they looked as small and insignificant as they had in my dream. I didn't feel anything. Not sadness or rage. They, and everyone in this room, meant nothing.

"Want some punch, babe?" I asked. Like the perfect boyfriend he was, he leaned in and kissed me. It was soft and quick but enough to make them gasp. He took my hand and pulled me between my former enemies. I didn't need to look back to know I'd left them stunned.

He fixed our cups and we perused the snack table. Emma and Paul were busy grinding on the dance floor. Paul took off his scarf and draped it around her back, pulling her closer.

"Can we leave yet?" I asked.

"We've been here all of five minutes, babe."

He snaked his arms around my stomach as he leaned on the table. He swayed slightly to the left, then to the right. I looked back and so did he, avoiding my eyes. "Stop trying to dance with me, Nate."

"Too late."

I let him dance, but I didn't move much. I listened to the buzzing around me as he held on to me. They were all wondering how I'd managed to make friends while being kidnapped. The meanest ones were wondering how I'd manage to make friends at all. One voice was calling, no singing, my name.

Christine. Oh... sweet... Christine. It was a girl. A familiar voice. Christine, I know you can hear me. Remi? I scanned the room. More couples had joined Emma and Paul on the dance floor. Emma inched lower to the ground, finally pushing Sister Margret too far. She looks nice in your clothes. I guess you stole my friend.

I looked through the harmless students for her.

I didn't shiver. I wasn't afraid. My heart shattered, breaking for her, wanting to bring her home with us.

Then I saw her and my heart broke even more. She stood in front of the locker room door. Her dark hair was in a long braid. Her leather pants looked painted on, and her top was almost nonexistent. I had bras that covered more. No one seemed to see her but me.

I looked back at Nate. His eyes were fixed on Paul and Emma getting lectured. He laughed, probably hearing it from here.

It's not over. My master wants you, and I begged to be the one to deliver you. I owe you one. She disappeared into the locker room, and I ran after her.

I blew through the doors. "Remi!" I screamed. It felt like I had to save her from Kamon because there was no one to save my mother from his master. "Don't go back! You'll be his property!"

It was silent except for a dripping faucet.

"Chris!" Nate said, bursting through the door. "What's wrong?"

"I saw Remi. I thought... I saw her, anyway."

"She's gone." I jumped. Lydia Shaw crossed her legs on the wooden bench between the lockers. "I assumed Kamon would send someone here tonight since this has been all over the news, and you did exactly what she wanted you to do." She stood, and I bowed like I was supposed to. Nate followed. "She saw me and jumped through the window she came in from."

"Why did you let her go? We need to help her."

"Not we. You belong in there, dancing with your boyfriend. Remi and Kamon are my problem. You are not a part of that world. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, sinking. I felt like I'd disappointed her, and it hurt. I'd stupidly run after Remi. It could have been a trap with sedatives involved. Thank God she was here to scare her off.

"If I promise to do everything I can to help Remi, will you promise to ignore her?" I nodded. "Good. Nathan, great job of slowing yourself down out there, but keep a closer eye on her for me," she said.

"Yes, ma'am." With her hand on my back, she led us to the door. It closed before I could say goodbye, and for some reason, that hurt too. "Chris, you scared the hell out of me." I stood on my toes and kissed him on the cheek. "I accept your apology, but are you going to tell me what happened later?" I nodded and grabbed his hand. "Perhaps in the pool?"

"I'd like that," I said. His smile told me he'd love that.

My sprint to the locker room hadn't turned many heads. They were used to me being weird like that.

My friends and I left the party an hour after we got there. The news crews snapped pictures and screamed for comments on our way out.

Nate opened my door then climbed in the driver's side. Sophia was stretched out on the backseat reading. "We'll have to drive for a while until we're not being followed, Nathan," she said.

I watched the chaos and the school shrink to nothing as we pulled away from it. I sighed, happy this whole mess was finally over.

Emma held a tube of lip-gloss to her lips like a microphone. "Leah slash Christine slash Cecilia, what do you have to say to the people of the world. Certainly, you don't appear to be a kidnapping victim? What have you been doing?"

Everyone laughed at her fake reporter voice. She held the lip-gloss microphone to me, and I smiled.

"Um... I've been away, figuring myself out," I said. "And I'm not so bad."

####

Continue Christine's story with Book Two, Lost, for .99 cents.

## From the Author

Thank you so much for your interest in Hidden. I hope you enjoyed it.

Check out my website and Goodreads page to rate, review, and discuss. Thanks again!

More by M. Lathan

Lost (Hidden Series Book Two)

Shattered (Hidden Series Book Three)

Awakened (Hidden Series Book Four) coming soon

## Connect with me online:

Website: <http://mlathan.com/>

Twitter: <https://twitter.com/hiddenseries>

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