(Updated every Sunday)

Davey holds the steering wheel tightly while I wait for him to explain what's going on. It took me about two seconds after seeing Carson to recognize the older boy. Davey Matthews, Carson's adopted older brother. No wonder he looked vaguely familiar. He was on TV the day he and his family gave the press conference about Carson's disappearance.

Once I identified him, getting in a car with him in dark and secluded parking lot wasn't an issue. Carson spoke highly of his brother, albeit with frustration. Davey had looked out for his kid brother growing up to the point of fault. He protected him then, just as he is protecting him now. Which goes a long way toward easing my distrust.

In fact, the only scary part about getting into a car with this stranger is the teenage boy handcuffed in the backseat.

Davey catches me glancing back and reaches for my arm. As though sensing my sudden tenseness, he withdraws his hand and says, "Trust me, he's completely out of it. I gave him enough sedative to put down an elephant and a couple of horses. And even when he's awake, he won't try to hurt you. Not until he knows he can."

I don't know how I missed that slight drawl before. It's not as pronounced as Carson's, but it's still there as a testament to his southern roots. I shiver once I absorb the meaning of his words. Until he knows he can. Does this mean that Carson would kill his own brother if his hands and legs were free?

"Where to start?" Davey mumbles, breathing warm air into his cupped hands.

"At the beginning would be great."

"Alright. Like I said before, we met about six months ago. After you guys were on the news and we heard a lot of you had been killed, we didn't know what to expect. We almost lost our minds when we couldn't find him. No one would tell us what happened to him. We kept waiting, kept praying he'd turn up on his own. He never did."

"So how did you end up finding him?"

"I didn't. You did."

I kept my promise to go back for him? It's the best news I've heard since I woke up in this scary world. Still, how the hell did I manage to sneak back into Gardiner's base and extract a cold-blooded killing machine of a teenage boy?

When I ask Davey, he shrugs. "You didn't tell me."

"I didn't?" My eyes narrow. "You're saying I didn't trust you?"

He gives me a teasing smile that, strangely enough, reminds me of Carson. "Hey, don't look at me like that. You're the most secretive girl I've ever met. It drove all of your other boyfriends crazy, I'll bet."

I don't answer him, mostly because I'm in shock at the idea that this perfect stranger is my boyfriend. He sighs. "Sorry, I guess this is all weird to you."

No kidding.

"Considering how difficult it was to crack open your shell the first time around," he continues, "I'm not surprised you're not falling into my arms now. But I'm not going to push you."

"I can't imagine myself with you," I say bluntly.

He winces, which makes me feel bad. He's not bad looking, far from it. He's handsome in a wholesome, rugged sort of way. Nothing like Alec's model-esque attractiveness, or Marcus's tall-dark-and-smoldering looks. No, he's not the issue. I am. I'm just not the type to have a boyfriend. I've never had a boyfriend, not counting the few precious moments with Marcus. I have no idea how I went from being with Marcus to this guy, and frankly, I'm starting to think I'm better off not knowing.

"You were saying?" I ask, trying not to fidget with discomfort.

He fiddles with the miniature laser on his keyring, using it to trace a red-dotted path across his dashboard and center console. "I was away at college when you reached out to me. You said you found me online. You told me you had my brother and you were on a quest to save him. You asked me to keep it a secret because you couldn't afford to trust anyone."

"Not even your family?"

"No. If they'd found out about Carson, they would've wanted him home. It wouldn't have been safe for anyone." He takes his thumb off the laser button and lets his hand fall into his lap. "Besides, I didn't see the point in getting my mom's hopes up. By then, we'd heard of people blanking across the country. Not one of them ever turns back."

Sadness saturates his voice so heavily that my throat aches. This guy has spent the last six months lugging his brother around in the hopes that he can turn him back to normal. I can't imagine what it's been like to be so close to someone you love and not be able to talk to him, to hold him, to protect him from his enemies. "I'm sorry."

Davey smiles at me. "Shit, April, don't be sorry. If it wasn't for you, he'd already be dead ten times over."

"So what did you do? Quit school and join me on this crazy campaign to save your brother?"

"Pretty much. You told me about the metamorphosis inhibitor serum. That's probably why Carson is in a semi-comatose state half the time. Meaning, he'll just sit there and stare blankly at nothing. Like those parasites have vacated his brain or something."

I'm assuming he means the Shroud. "That's different from other blanks?"

"Yeah. If they don't find one of you to kill, they'll just go out and pick on anyone they run into. They're never inactive, but Carson is sometimes. It's like . . . I don't know, like the Shroud loses the signal to his body. But at the same time, he can't return to it. It'll happen for hours sometimes. Makes it a little easier to look after him." He rubs his eyes wearily. "It's the only time he'll let me feed him. Barely. Otherwise he would've starved to death by now."

"And you think the serum did this?"

"You thought it did." He shakes his head and chuckles. "It's real trippy telling you these things. Just a short while ago, I was the one sitting there with my mouth hanging open. Anyway, that's why you've spent the last six months trying to find more of it, with Sam's help."

"What?" I squeak.

"Sorry—I didn't mean it like that." Davey grimaces. "He's still, um, dead. But he didn't leave you high and dry. He gave you clues. Sam might be dead, but the people who engineered the metamorphosis inhibitor serum are still around. Some of them might even know about a cure to the blank condition."

My head spins painfully. And here I thought Sam's death was the end of his influence in my life. His guidance. "How did he give me clues?"

"He emailed you stuff before he died. There's a doctor we're looking for by the name of George Hansel. A microbiologist or something fancy. It was hard to track the son of a bitch down, but we placed him somewhere in the Midwest before . . . you know."

"And you think he can help us?"

"He was heavily involved in the project. At least that's what one of Sam's men told us when Sam instructed you to contact him. That security guard you ran into when you were escaping the facility—yeah, that guy. Anyway, Hansel quit working for Gardiner years ago. Apparently, he had a falling out with Jonathan Blaine about the direction things were going. When he came onboard with the project, he thought the goal was to find a way to make people healthier."

"It worked, didn't it?" I say, thinking of what we discovered back at the facility. Those of us who were part of Gardiner's experiment—we don't get sick. Never have, and probably never will.

"Blaine might've left out the part about weaponizing you guys. Hansel went underground for a while. He did a seven-year stint teaching biology at a community college. And then when you guys went public with Gardiner's extracurricular activities, he disappeared. Lucky for us, Mr. Security Guard has been feeding us information."

"What's his name?" I ask. I'm surprised he'd want to help us. The last time we saw him, we left him handcuffed to a chair—and that's after Marcus shoved a gun in his face and threatened to blow his brains out. I'm so glad I didn't let him.

"Hermes."

I stare at him. "Hermes?"

"Yup. The messenger of the Greek gods. The patron of travelers—which means us, all things considered."

"He's also a trickster," I point out. Davey is grinning. "What's so funny?"

"You said the same exact thing the first time you heard it. It's good to know some things never change. But that description matches him. He never says or does anything in a straightforward manner. Makes it frustrating to deal with him."

The throbbing in my head has intensified. I close my eyes and rub my temple to ease the pain. "Hey, you okay?" Davey asks, the humor in his voice replaced by boyfriend-like concern.

Sometime ago, I would've lied. Told him that, yes, I'm perfectly fine. But who am I kidding? He knows nothing is okay about any of this. On the other hand, whining isn't part of my programming, so that's out of the question. "Do you know the others?"

"You mean the Scooby Doo gang?" He flashes a smile to take the sting out of the remark. "You suggested I join them. I did on and off for a couple of months. Didn't work out."

"Do they know about Carson?"

"Hell no," Davey said emphatically. "That's my baby brother you're talking about. We tested the water with hypotheticals. They made it clear they wouldn't take him in. It didn't help that Marcus hated my guts. You two were cozy back then, so I can understand why. He didn't like that you were spending so much time with me."

I leap at the opening. "Do you know why we broke up?"

"No. To be honest, you're pretty secretive about almost everything except Carson. One day you guys were together, the next you weren't." He stretches his legs and shifts in his seat, as if easing some discomfort. "It changed you. You weren't happy for the longest time."

His description is teasing at some part of my brain I can't unlock. Like an ill-fitting key that won't turn no matter how much I jangle it in the lock. Instead of trying to remember, I think about the implications of his revelation. If I was unhappy, it has to mean that the break-up wasn't mutual. Which seems to match up with everything else I've been discovering.

"I better get back," I say uneasily.

Davey glances at his wristwatch. "Yeah, it's getting pretty late. I'll fill you in on everything when we meet up again."

I frown. Marcus said something about traveling at the break of dawn tomorrow morning—or rather, today. "How will we do that?"

"Once you find out where you're going, you text it to me and we'll meet up there. Maybe by then, Hermes will have more information about our elusive doctor."

"We're going to Denver, I think," I say. "Do you know why?"

"A Blank attack at a park. Twenty-four dead. Usually this happens when someone flips."

"Flips?"

"Yeah, has a power-triggering seizure. And then humans in the area start to blank. You guys have been all over the country trying to collect flippers before these human Blanks get to them. Do you know where you'll be staying?"

I bite my lip before admitting shamefully, "No. I'm not sure they'll tell me. They—they don't trust me. Or they don't believe in me anymore."

"It's okay. You can text me when you get there." Davey is quiet for a moment, and I get the feeling he's choosing his words carefully. "Things have been rough for the past few months, April. Maybe losing your memories was for the best. I know you didn't want it, but—"

My head whips in his direction. "What do you mean, I didn't want it?"

"Oh, right. You don't remember. You were against having your memories blocked. Willow kept proposing it, but you refused every time." He looks intently into my eyes. "You told me that if she ever hypnotized you, it meant she'd forced it on you against your will."

"Why?"

"She wanted to help you."

I'm too pissed off to think about her right now. "No, I mean, why was I against it?"

He shrugs. "It's one of those things you didn't share with me. But to be honest . . . in the last few weeks, you've seemed frantic. You've barely visited Carson lately—or me. The last time we talked, you said to me, and I quote verbatim, 'It'll all be over soon.'"

"What will be over soon?"

"Beats the hell out of me. Another mystery that is April Parker. But I'm guessing that's why you were so against the hypnosis. It felt like you were on a personal mission, and you were determined to finish it no matter the cost."

"I have to go." I'm already at the door as the dull words emerge from my mouth. My rubbery legs won't hold me, and I nearly fall onto the asphalt. Bracing a hand on the car, I move away from it and hurry back the way I came.

"Wait, April!" Davey yells after me. "I'll drive you back. It's not safe."

I run away in response. My body is an orchestra of pain, but I push through it, relishing the pounding of my shoes and the cold air stinging its way into my lungs. The sensations take me back to simpler times. Running was my life, my way of dealing with being boxed in by Sam's existence. Now I'm free to go wherever I want, but I've never felt more trapped.

I slow down about a block from our sanctuary, my heart pounding. I wanted to know, didn't I? I wanted answers. But my head is as stretched as an over-inflated balloon, crammed full of conflicting revelations and thoughts that keep tripping over one another in their mad dash for coherence. And there isn't a soul alive that I trust to help me make sense of it.

Not even Davey, for all his earnest and selfless desire to help his brother, can be trusted. Because he knows parts of me that I don't want to share. He holds pieces of my soul, and I want them back so that I can keep them under lock and key.

The front door is locked when I try to push it open. My stomach sinks. Is this their way of telling me that I'm not welcome anymore? I'm about to walk around to the back of the building when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Texts from Davey.

Sorry if I freaked you out. It's a lot to dump on you.

I just really miss you. I would've told you anything if it meant keeping you with me for a little while longer. I hope you reached 'home' safely.

He's going to get my company for a lot longer than that if I'm stuck out here by myself.

I'm okay, I text back. Thanks.

I'm debating what else to say when I hear the clink and rattle of chains on the other side of the door. It swings open, and I find myself looking at a crowd of really pissed-off looking teenagers, with Marcus in the forefront.

"Where the hell have you been?" he growls at me from his full towering height. I open my mouth to answer, but he doesn't give me a chance. "You took off in the middle of the night and left the door unsecured for anyone to walk in and kill us all."

"In her defense, your girl did the same thing earlier," Janie says from a corner.

"Willow, I thought losing her memories was supposed to fix her," Pablo whines. "She's still running around like a crazy person."

An unfamiliar voice chimes in in agreement. "Okay, clearly it didn't help. She's going to get us killed eventually. Maybe we should cut our losses while we still can."

"Meaning what?" Rachelle says sharply. "You want us to kill her?"

"How's that any different from killing another Blank?"

Marcus acts like he doesn't hear them. His eyes drop to the phone in my hand, with the messaging app still open, and I know what he's thinking. Who could the amnesiac possibly be texting? Before I can think to react, his hand darts out and he snatches the phone out of my hand.

Crap.

First comes comprehension. Then surprise. Then storm clouds gather in his black eyes, crackling with furious streaks of lightning. He holds the phone up and meets my gaze. "How long has this been going on?"

"I—I don't know what you're talking about."

"What?" Janie says, craning her neck to catch a peek at the screen. She sighs. "Oh, boy."

"You've been with him all this time?" Marcus continues in that scary low voice. "You told me he went home months ago."

I cross my arms to mask how shaky I feel. "Seeing as I can't remember anything, how the hell would I know?"

Apparently, the truth isn't the best thing to say right now. His face twists with fury. He turns his back to me and hurls the phone across the lobby. "No!" I scream when it strikes the far wall and breaks into countless pieces.

I'm sick to my stomach. Carson. Davey. Hermes. How am I going to find them now?

"Jesus, Marcus," Willow says softly.

He spins around and jabs a finger in my direction. I step back at the disgust in his eyes. "You never stop being selfish, do you? All this time, we've been racing from one part of the country to the next saving people just like you wanted, when all along you've been sneaking around with some guy who screwed us over the last time he showed his face around here."

I blink. This is new. Adam intercepts him when he takes a few angry steps toward me. Marcus shoves his friend hard. "Get out of my way, Adam."

"You're not thinking straight, dude," Adam says evenly.

Marcus's chest is moving hard with his breaths. He balls his hands into tight fists. "Are you shitting me right now? I'm not thinking straight?"

It looks like it takes monumental effort for him to get those words out. He gives up on words and, with an animalistic growl of rage that tears through me, shoves his arms into the air and releases all his volatile emotions.

Energy ripples down the lobby, sending with it a cascade of motion. Chairs and a small table fly and crash on top of my broken phone. An information board is ripped from the wall and careens to join the rest of the wayward objects, along with loose papers and countless little objects, all of them creating a cacophony that's deafening in the otherwise-quiet lobby.

The biggest effect is what happens to the wall itself. There's a large hole in it now, big enough for three adult-sized humans to walk through. I'm a frightened and awed mess of trembling limbs. Marcus has come a long way in the last eight months. I wish I could have seen this incredible show of power under better circumstances, and not because those chairs and table are a poor substitute for his real target: Me.

"Let's go," he grits out to Saige, who looks like Christmas has come early.

I'm left dazed. When I don't move, Janie pulls me into the building by the arm and says softly, "Don't mind him. He doesn't mean it."

I think he does. You can't fake hatred like that.

Which makes me wonder what the hell I did to deserve it.



(A/N: Phew, this chapter felt information-dumpy. Sorry, guys! I'll do my best to keep the rest of the mysteries and revelations more interactive. Until next time!)