Mr. Sinclair smoothed his suit over his torso. “Very well. And how will you punish this one for making outrageous accusations?”
Sister Agatha regarded Brielle with a look of curiosity, and Brielle couldn’t tell whose side the Sister was on.
“I will speak with her in private, but I think for now the missed chance at being adopted is punishment enough,” Sister Agatha said. “Brielle, wait for me in my office. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, if you’ll follow me back inside, I think I know just the girl who would be perfect for your family.” She waved an ushering hand toward the orphanage, inviting the Sinclairs to follow her.
Brielle had rushed to Sister Agatha’s office as instructed, preparing her words of protest and explanation.
When Sister Agatha finally entered the room and closed the door behind her, she sat beside Brielle rather than on the other side of her desk. Her face was stony and unreadable, and Brielle was certain she was about to be punished. It was so unfair!
“Sister, I don’t know how to explain it, but I know what he did.” Brielle’s words came out in a high-pitched flood. “He’s a bad man! You can’t let him adopt any of the girls here, please!”
Sister Agatha put a comforting hand on Brielle’s shoulder. “I’m only going to ask you this once, and I need you to be honest with me.” Her eyes locked on Brielle’s to stress the importance of her question. “Did Mr. Sinclair hurt you or touch you inappropriately?”
Brielle frowned and shook her head ever so slightly. “No, but…Sister, I saw him hurt others.”
“What do you mean you saw?” Sister Agatha asked. “Did he hurt any of the other children here?”
“No, he hurt his girlfriends,” Brielle insisted. “I saw him do it, in my head. And if he adopts any of the girls here, he might do the same to them.”
Disappointment deepened the wrinkles on Sister Agatha’s face as she closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know where this is coming from, Brielle. But I think it means you’re not ready to be adopted. And it’s unfair of you to try to take that same chance away from others.”
“Sister, that’s not what’s happening,” Brielle protested, getting more and more desperate. She couldn’t explain how she’d seen what Mr. Sinclair had done. It was crazy. No one would believe her accusation without proof. But she couldn’t just sit by and let someone else fall into his clutches. “I want to be adopted more than anything. You know that. Which is why you have to believe me when I say that Mr. Sinclair is a bad man.”
“How do you know that, Brielle? Have you ever met him before today?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly.
“Have you seen or read anything about him in the news?” Sister Agatha continued.
“No, but—”
“Then how do you know?”
“I just know,” Brielle shouted, slamming her hands on her lap. “Please, you have to believe me. You know I wouldn’t lie.”
Sister Agatha looked at her for a long moment, then rose and rounded the desk to sit in her usual chair on the other side of it. “I’m sorry, Brielle. The Sinclairs are a very prominent couple, and they can offer some needy orphan a good home. Without proof they are unfit parents, legally, I can’t do anything to prevent them from adopting her.”
Her? Oh no, they’ve chosen someone.
“Who?” Brielle asked, mouth suddenly dry.
“Your friend, Cassandra.”
The bell rings, and Brielle gratefully comes back to reality, eager for a more engaging class that would keep her from reliving the past. She’d quarreled with herself over that incident for years. Should she have not said anything? After all, her actions came to no avail; the Sinclairs still adopted her friend. If she’d just made them dislike her without upsetting them or Sister Agatha, maybe she wouldn’t have lost Cassandra as a friend. Maybe she would have saved Cassandra from him. She might even have been adopted years ago because Sister Agatha wouldn’t have excluded her from events in fear that she’d scare off other parents.
Brielle shakes her head as she walks down the hall to her next class. No, things couldn’t have gone any other way. Because warning people about who Mr. Sinclair really had been the right thing to do, and Brielle always tries to do the right thing, even if it costs her.
But none of that matters anymore. She has a second chance. The Pierces are interested in adopting her.
She just needs to be...normal.
4
Tristan
Mirror Point High looks like so many of the other high schools Tristan’s seen, he doubts he’ll even remember it once they leave. Multi-storied and square. Brown brick and narrow windows. He scans it, thinking of his vision, but nothing about it feels familiar...
Of course it’s not. There’s no way it would be that easy—rock up to school, find a Zodiac Heir, take them home to proudly show Zarius and Tess.
Feel like they’ve actually got a chance at winning this.
Standing in the parking lot, Tristan hears the screech of tires. He holds still, pretending he hasn’t noticed as his body goes on high alert.
Zarius’s voice whispers through his mind. Skins are everywhere.
Chardis chooses his vessels carefully, infiltrating their minds and taking control of their bodies. The possession blackens their hearts until it’s the same pithy void as Chardis’s soul. Unfortunately, it also gives them unnatural strength.
And the ability to turn invisible.
You drop your guard, you’re dead.
Zarius hasn’t sugarcoated the truth during their training. Some days, his words are as brutal as his kicks. But he can’t afford to. If Tristan isn’t ready for anything, anytime, his days end.
And so does the Universe.
But someone shouts, there’s a brief argument, and it’s over. The usual bustle of students resumes around him, one or two glancing at Tristan, most too preoccupied with each other or their cell phones to notice the new kid.
Tristan doesn’t mind. It gives him time to scope out the place.
He strolls toward the entrance, looking casual and self-assured. He’s learned this whole process is quicker if he hooks up with the right kids from the get-go. He just has to find them…
There’s a wide set of stairs that lead up the front door, pale and stained. To the left, Tristan notices a bunch of kids on the other side, prowling in the shadows. The Outcasts, as he likes to call them. They like to wear black boots and too much eye-liner. They’re so busy perfecting their blank stares and life-sucks attitude to know what’s going on in the school.
They’re worth keeping a note of as it’s possible some of the Zodiacs have struggled to assimilate, especially with their powers unchecked, but they’re not the people Tristan wants to talk to right now.
Someone sweeps past him, and Tristan registers the sharp scent of soap. Three teens, clothes neatly pressed, stride up the steps, books in hand. The High Achievers. They get the best grades, love to talk about books and Anime, and generally come from well-to-do families. Usually intact families. Odds are, they’re not a Zodiac. Plus, they spend too much time in the library to be of use.
Tristan hears a tinkling laugh and he slows, knowing he’s getting close. A bunch of kids are hanging around the doors on the right, laughing and chatting. All girls, their hair straightened and glossy, their midriffs peeking between their leggings and tees. Two of the girls crowd in close, lips pouting. Tristan waits for it. Yep, there it is. The requisite selfies.