“Yes,” answers Landon. “We had a bit of a near-miss back in Boston. The Academy has the whole city on watch.”
Mollie sighs as she beckons toward the path, and we follow in a cluster, like a group of baby ducklings trailing behind their mother. “I’m not surprised,” she admits as we walk, putting her hands in her pockets. “I heard about what happened at the convention centre. Bad business, and it’s not going to stop any time soon.”
“Speaking of which,” I say, “how on earth do you know about… well, any of this?”
“It’s a long story,” Mollie echoes my earlier words. “The truth is, I’ve known about shifters since I was a little girl. My parents were on the committee managing human-shifter relations in the U.K. That was before I realised just how corrupt the organisation was.”
“So you… what, keep tabs on us?” asks Hunter, sounding incredulous as we come to a stop beside the main road.
Mollie chuckles. “Hardly. Although I’ve spent enough time sheltering shifters on the run that I have a decent network of contacts.”
“Is that why you took me in?” I breathe, staring up at her.
She turns to me, fondness in her eyes. “When I found out they were using innocent children to create hybrids, my heart went out to you. A little girl experimented on as a baby, with no parents to speak of and no understanding of the world she lived in…” She shakes her head sadly. “I thought I could keep you safe. I just wasn’t expecting the humans to take you away from me.”
“So they reassigned you, is that it?” asks Silas.
“They knew I sympathised with the shifter community, yes,” replies Mollie. “When they caught wind of the fact that I was fostering you, Millie, they were fit to be tied. I think they wanted you kept in the dark as long as possible, so that you would be malleable, susceptible to their propaganda.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when I was living with you?” I ask.
“I wanted to,” admits Mollie. “God knows I wanted to. I planned on it, too, once your powers started to manifest. Looking back, I could have saved you a lot of grief if I had come clean earlier.” She sighs. “At any rate, when I found out they were dragging you kids to the U.S. for some bullshit peace talks, I had a bad feeling. I texted you from a burner phone. I had hoped you would at least be able to keep yourself safe…”
“Well, none of us has died so far,” Landon observes dryly.
We continue to weave our way east, towards the centre of the city. The sun is warming me up a little, although my muscles are still fatigued; I end up having to lean on Landon for support as we go, and I’m not oblivious to the curious glance Mollie gives me when she sees the physical affection.
“So, tell me,” she says as we turn onto a quiet street, “just how do you kids know each other?”
“We’re friends,” Xander supplies. “Well, at least Ruby, Hazel, and I are. As for the others…”
“We were the original test subjects,” Silas explains quietly. “For the hybrid experiment.”
“Then you haven’t had an easy go of it,” Mollie observes. “For whatever it’s worth, you are all welcome to stay at my flat as long as you need to. I can’t promise I can keep you safe, but I’ve done a decent job with the other shifters who have passed through.” We arrive outside a pristine-looking apartment, following Mollie inside and up to the second level. She unlocks the front door and we file in one at a time, finding ourselves in a sprawling, well-lit, multi-room flat.
“This place is huge,” breathes Hazel.
“The perks of having friends in high places,” Mollie says, grinning. “Make yourselves at home. Although, I have to say, this is an interesting situation.”
“How so?” asks Shade incredulously.
“All six test subjects under one roof,” marvels Mollie, putting her hands on her hips.
“Six?” I ask, my eyes going wide. “You mean, there’s another one?” I’ve always known that there must be, since I have access to the witch form, but so much time has passed that I was starting to think I would never meet her.
“Damn right, there’s another one,” Mollie says, peering down one of the hallways. “Edith!” she yells. “We have more guests! Come out and say hello!”
“Just a second,” comes a muffled female voice.
Moments later, a door opens, and I find myself face to face with the last piece of the puzzle, the last ingredient in my strange past.
Chapter 8
To describe her as “pretty” would be an understatement. She was radiant, almost ethereal, like I might picture a fairy, if fairies existed. Her stature is svelte and petite, her skin pale and pearlescent, contrasted by her jet-black pixie cut and vivid green eyes. The girl smiles, and although it only takes a second for her expression to shift from vague distrust to jovial friendliness, a second is all I need to feel a brief pang of unease.
For a moment, neither of us speaks, and I can’t shake the feeling that she’s sizing me up as much as I’m sizing her up. This is the last test subject, the girl responsible for giving me my witch powers. I’m expecting to feel happy, reassured, even, now that the last question has been answered. By all accounts, it should be cathartic, especially considering the danger our little posse is in…
But.
Something about her gives me pause, and the frustrating thing is that I can’t even put my finger on it. She’s gorgeous, that’s obvious, and I can feel the others watching me expectantly, no doubt curious about how I’ll react to the new addition, but something still feels off.
You’re being ridiculous, I tell myself, forcing myself to smile at her. There’s literally no reason to be suspicious. If anything, you should be happy to have finally met her. So why the hell do I have this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach?
The girl breaks the silence, her voice tinkling with the hint of an Irish lilt. “You must be Millie Brix,” she says, extending a delicate hand to me. “My name is Edith Conaway. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I blink, my movements stiff and rusty as I accept her proffered hand, half-wondering if I’ll break it if I shake it too hard. “You know who I am?” I ask with dull surprise. It’s a stupid question, considering who she’s been living with, but it takes me aback just the same.
Edith laughs, a bell-like sound that is half-beautiful and half-grating. “Of course,” she says. “It would be a bit strange if I didn’t at least know your name, considering…” She gestures vaguely around. “Well, everything.”
“I… guess that’s a fair point,” I admit.
“Mollie told me about what happened at the peace convention,” Edith goes on, sidling up to my former foster mother with a familiarity that makes me bristle in spite of myself. “It must have been dreadful. For the humans to attack like that…” She shakes her head. “Well, you’re safe here, at any rate.” I glance over at Hazel, who clears her throat. “Oh my god, I feel like a buffoon,” exclaims Edith. “Here I am, acting like you’re the only one here. Are the rest of you shifters as well?”