(Sorry for the wait! The chapter was going to be half as long, but I decided to spend some more time to keep writing the next plot point. I hope you enjoy it!)



It's around two-thirty in the morning and we've been driving aimlessly for the past hour. Our goal at first is simply to put as much distance between us and the strange cave, but at some point, we realize we need a new destination. We need a new objective. We need to refocus and figure out what to do, because not having a game plan means having to face our terrifying reality: we're way out of our element.

Jones argues we should head for the ocean, where there can't possibly be any mysterious caves, and Pablo says something about hiding out in the Alaskan wilderness until we figure out our odds. Marcus opts for staying and doing something about the army of Blanks we're leaving behind. It's loud and messy in the van, and I'm tempted to shove my head through the window, before Hermes sends us a text that creates a whole different kind of chaos.

The nest has moved deeper underground, but their Source is still on the surface and is heading south. Cut off the beast's head and the rest of the body might have a chance to recover.

"Their Source?" Jones exclaims, fidgeting anxiously next to me. "I thought there was only one Source!"

Janie is sitting behind me, half of her body practically hanging over my backrest as she reads the text message for herself. "The rest of the body might have a chance to recover. The rest of the body means the Blanks, right? Does this mean—wait, is he saying we can turn people back to normal if we kill the Source?"

"Damn," Marcus says, mirroring my own shock. Carson. This could save him.

"But he's the Source, right?" Jones says. "Why would he tell us to kill him?"

Janie rubs his hair affectionately. "God, you're dumb. Hermes is our Source because he made us this way. The text message from Hermes says there's another Source, which means this other alien dude is the one responsible for making all those people blank. By killing him, they would be free from his mind control."

"Maybe," Pablo says skeptically from the front passenger seat.

"Wait, but if Hermes is our Source, does that mean he's mind controlling us?" Jones asks.

"I think the term Source is used arbitrarily," I say. "Hermes is the Source of our abilities. This other being is the Source of the mind control." I frown. "At least, specifically in this case. Hermes called it a nest. That implies there is more than one—each one with its own Source."

Jones groans so loud my ear hurts. "Seriously!"

"It would explain the disappearances across the country," Janie murmurs. "They're taking people, aren't they?"

I shiver at the thought of more Blanks out there. "It seems very likely."

"We should follow the lead," Marcus says.

Jones sits up straighter. "What? No. Hell no! We need to be going in the opposite direction, man." He looks around at the rest of us. "Am I the only one who thinks it's crazy to take on one of them?"

"It's not like he or she can make you guys blank," I point out. "Once you flip, you become immune, remember?"

"You think that matters? For all we know, these guys can blow us up with their minds. Or make us throw up all of the blood in our bodies." He makes a gushing-water gesture near his ears. "Or imagine gallons of blood pouring out of your ears. How does that sound to you?"

"You've got one overactive imagination, my friend," Pablo says.

"And you all are crazy! Can't we go back to finding flippers? I mean, it's what we've been doing for months. Why are we changing the game plan now?"

"You see any flippers falling out of the sky?" Marcus asks. "We waited around for three weeks before we heard about that kid we found hanging from the tree. We're fresh out of flippers. I wouldn't be surprised if the Shroud got to the rest of the kids."

"That's exactly what will happen to us, too!"

Pablo tsked. "Jones, you've been with us for five months and you're finding out just now that we don't like to run away from danger? Dipshit."

He pouts. "No need for name-calling, Pablo."

"Don't mind him." Janie grinned. "He's just dealing with a serious case of blue balls, that's all."

"And you're nothing but a frigid bitch as always," Pablo retorts.

She sticks her middle finger out when he looks back with a sneer.

"We're going to check out the lead," Marcus repeats, firmly this time. "I don't trust this Hermes asshole one bit—would it have hurt him to tell us all this months ago? But if it's true, this could finally put us ahead. We'll be the hunters for a change."

Pablo laughs and crosses his feet on the dashboard. "I don't give a damn about Blanks or not, but I'm not about to pass up the chance to kill one of these sons of bitches."

"That's what I'm talking about. What about the rest of you?"

"I'm in," Janie says. "But I'm not sure if it's the safest place for April to be."

I know she's being realistic, but it still hurts to hear that. It's a reminder that I'm more of a liability than anything, which makes me more determined to proof I'm anything but. I need to be there to make sure that we succeed. For Carson. For all of us. And even if I blank, I'm just one out of thousands. What could it possibly hurt?

"I'm your link to Hermes," I say. "There's a reason he's not contacting anyone else. Besides, I might be able to lead you to the Shroud. You only found out about the cave because of me, remember?"

Marcus stares at me in the rearview mirror, and I look away, hoping he can't see the sweat coating my forehead. "Alright," he finally says. "April stays with us. I'm guessing the rest of you are up for it. You can bail out if you want, Jones. Just tell me when to stop the van."

I see the violent shudder that passes through Jones, and I know he's thinking about the Blanks we saw back there. "I'm good. Just don't expect me to go into any more creepy caves, alright?"

It doesn't escape my notice that Willow is the only one who isn't contributing to the conversation. I look over my shoulder to see her looking out of her window. Her silence feels purposeful. Full of secrets. Earlier before we got in the van, when everyone else was too distracted to see us, I grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her aside.

"I know it was you," I whispered, searching her face for answers. That moment was her chance to come clean before I pulled Marcus and the others into it.

She stiffened. "What?"

"You did something to me while I was sleeping. You made me follow the shadow."

"I—I can't begin to guess what the hell you're talking about."

"Willow, for God's sake," I snapped, tightening my grip. "Be upfront with me for once in your life. Why did you do it? You could have gotten me killed!"

Willow snatched her arm back so quickly that I was left clutching air. "You have no right to accuse me of something like that. You really think I would do anything to put your life in danger?"

"There was a time when I would've said no, but I don't know you anymore. And the fact that you're going to keep lying right to my face—"

"I don't know anything!" she hissed. "Whatever you think I've done—you're wrong. How can you be sure you didn't dream up my involvement in this? Or—or maybe your brain is getting the past mixed up with the present. We both know you're not stable."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"No, I just mean—" The apologetic look on her face changed into something cool and distant. "Take it however you like. The fact of the matter is that you're the last person who should be trusting her brain right now."

"No thanks to you!"

She shook her head sadly. "You should be thanking me. Losing your memories was the only shot you had at being normal. You're better off now than you were a week ago. At least you're here and not trapped in that place. The less you remember, the less you have to be stressed out about, and the better your chances of being yourself instead of their puppet."

"Am I supposed to believe you have nothing but good intentions for me?" I snapped angrily, my eyes brimming with tears. Dammit. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I couldn't seem to get a grip on my emotions. Being in that place—no, remembering that place had changed me. I felt like I was spiraling down a drain and I had nothing to hold on to.

Willow held my gaze for a long moment. "It doesn't matter what you want to believe."

Then she brushed by me and joined the others. End of conversation.

I'm annoyed all over again as I remember that encounter. Her self-righteous indignation, the way she manipulated our conversation until I felt like the bad guy. She did force me to follow the shadow, and no amount of protests will make me forget that. The million-dollar question is why. To hurt me? If so, why bother telling the others to track the phone that she herself gave me? A few more minutes and I would've been sealed within the crystals, as good as dead.

But she could've said something in the first place instead of sending me chasing a literal rabbit down a hole.

I glance down at my phone, remembering the other mysterious person in my life. I send him a text.

Why are you helping us kill one of you?

I'm expecting an ambiguous or impersonal response at most, so it nearly bowls me over when he responds with: I don't support genocide no matter who is perpetuating it.

My heart lurches, and I read the text again.

Me: Is that what they want? Genocide?

Him: They want to survive. Good intentions. Wrong methods.

Me: Your conscience is telling you that what your people are doing is wrong?

I'm not sure if I can call it that. Do they even have feeling?

Him: My conscience doesn't dictate the truth.

Me: I'll take that to mean you don't want to talk about yourself anymore.

His silence is all the answer I need.



I underestimated what it would do to me to remember my time in the glowing green crystals. Even with Willow's caution, with Janie's hesitation, with Adam's ominous warnings, and especially with Marcus's hostile behavior, I believed it couldn't possibly be as bad as everyone made it seem. I was wrong.

I come awake violently, suffocating like never before. Jones shouts in surprise, leaning away from my writhing body as far as the van's space will allow him. Janie holds on to my shoulders to keep me still. Marcus is yelling instructions at all of us. Thirty seconds later, I'm still gasping for breath and it's starting to set in that I might actually die this time.

"Let me out!" I manage to scream and clamber over Jones' legs once Marcus pulls to the side of the road.

It's nearly pitch dark out here, and I miss the ground and land on my knees. It doesn't slow me down. I crawl along the dirt-covered ground until I reach a boulder and brace my back against it, wheezing the whole time. You're not going to die if you breathe. Force yourself to. In. Out. In. Out. Keep going. More, more, more—

"Jesus, April," Marcus says, kneeling in front of me.

The van's headlights bathe us in its glow. He sees my instability, and the fear and worry on his face is like more dirt piling on top of me. I push his hand away. "Don't. I'm fine. I just—just need to catch my . . ."

I can't finish the sentence. The stars above are spinning out of control. My whole world is spinning, even the boulder I'm leaning against. Even Marcus. I let out of a sob. If he's not stable, if he's not the one who can ground me, keep me on my feet, what do I have left?

"Oh, God." I bury my head in my hands and squeeze my eyes shut so I don't have to see the world go dimmer around me. I know what that means.

I'm losing it.

I'm blanking.

"Fight it," Marcus says gently.

He's touching me again, this time on the shoulder. His hand is warm, but I'm frozen down to my soul. It's like he's made of ice and I'm made of fire, and there's no way we will ever mix. Either I'll extinguish his warmth—or he'll burn me alive.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

"Rose." The word is a soft prayer, a plea. His forehead touches mine, and I tremble. "Please. Stay with me. I can't protect you if you're gone."

An unexpected memory enters my mind. A recent one. It moves as quickly as a comet, but I catch its tail and latch on to it. Give it all my focus. Marcus bending toward Saige the way he's doing with me right now. Marcus kissing Saige. Marcus using Saige to hurt me.

Fury as hot as molten lava melts my ice. I snap awake. The world becomes crystal clear again, and I can feel myself in it, hear the crackling woods behind us and taste the dust-saturated air. I open my eyes and shove him so hard he tumbles back in the dirt. "I said don't touch me! You have no right."

He sits there frozen in place, the arm that broke his fall still bracing him. There's no way to describe the shock and bewilderment on his face. And beneath that, something sad and angry that makes me think I confirmed the worst thing he believed about me.

But apologizing is not an option. As he picks himself up and returns to the van, his movements jerky with anger when he dusts himself off, I watch him with a degree of calm. My breathing is still uneven and my heart's hammering in my chest, but I know the worst has passed. I'm back in control, for now at least, and all it took was losing Marcus again.



Adam Grover turned over on his hard cot, his knees bent so he could fit on it. He was shivering uncontrollably, still feeling the ice-cold water engulfing his body. It felt like tiny crystalline pieces of ice were still embedded in his skin. He blew into his hands, a futile effort. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get warm.

Still, it beat yesterday's electroshock therapy. That used to be one of his least favorite activities as a kid, and now that he was older, he found that he hadn't developed any tolerance for it. It was the smell of singed hair and burning skin. Even after so many years, he still remembered it.

He knew what Gardiner was doing. These sadistic experiments were the same as before. Except the experiments at the research facility ended once he flipped. Did Gardiner doubt him now? Did they think he was capable of blanking? He'd already shown them his ability—he had no reason to hide who or what he was—but that hadn't satisfied them. They still insisted on sending the four of them off to the torture chambers.

At least I'm used to it, he thought to himself. Poor Saige, Lisa, and Rachelle had never gone through anything like this before. He couldn't say for sure, since Gardiner was keeping them isolated from one another, but he had a feeling they hadn't. It wasn't like the public-school system was known for waterboarding students.

Aggravated, he lifted his head and punched his pillow to get it into a better shape. Would it have killed them to give him something that wasn't anything more than a pillowcase stuffed with bulgy pieces of foam? He wasn't expecting a fluffy duck-feathered pillow like the one at the Ritz-Carlton that one time they had sprung for a couple of fancy suites, but come on.

Thinking of their stay at the hotel six months ago made his chest warm and cold at the same time. There was that one night he'd never forget. The night Janie had given him more than five seconds of her time. All it took was a hot tub crammed full of stressed-out teenagers looking to forget their troubles and a bottle of wine that had made him feel loose and limber for the first time he could remember.

They'd sat side-by-side in the tub, and she'd spent the first fifteen minutes hate-flirting with Pablo before they both seemed to become aware of how much they were pressed up against each other. He nearly spit his mouthful of wine when she moved her leg deliberately, making sure to rub against him from ankle all the way to his knee.

Normally he would've jumped out of the tub and hidden in one of the bathrooms. Avoiding Janie was his standard behavior, as it had been since they were twelve and he realized he liked girls for more than friendship. But his brain was sluggish that night, in a good way, and he'd felt bold. He'd pressed back, and the fact that she stopped speaking abruptly, the way she inhaled a little, sent lightning coursing through his body.

Naturally, Janie made the first move. Later, after allowing the others to get ready for bed before him, he floated into the bathroom, still feeling warm and light-headed from both the relaxing hot tub and the prolonged physical contact with the only girl he'd ever liked. He turned to close the door and instead stumbled back when Janie slipped inside.

"What—"

The question never left his lips. She pushed him into the wall and covered his mouth with hers, hungry and passionate in a way that made him weak in the knees. He couldn't believe this was happening. Janie was kissing him. Running her fingernails across his nape. Pressing her chest against his. She smelled like soap and toothpaste, and she felt better than that duck-feathered pillow. It felt like his mind was narrating every little detail, taking everything in so he wouldn't forget a single thing.

"Take off your shirt," she murmured between kisses.

Her words barely penetrated his foggy mind. "Um—what?"

"Your shirt." She pulled back to look at him with her brilliant amber eyes, so full of want. For him. Her lips curved upward teasingly. "This is the part where you try to get me naked, too."

A bucket of ice water would've done a worse job of cooling him off. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He was such an idiot. This was normal for her. It was what she did: luring guys in with her seductive golden eyes and beautiful smiles and confident words.

This moment meant everything to him—and nothing to her.

Sick to his stomach, he pushed her away and muttered something about how he really needed to the bathroom—even though, in his blind daze, he walked out of the bathroom. It was the first and last time she ever looked at him like that.

Looking back on it, the memory of that kiss was the only light he had in this place. He turned on his side and closed his eyes, wondering if he should have let it get farther than that. Maybe it had meant something to her, too. He hadn't seen her with anyone since. At least nothing serious beyond flirtation.

It had to mean something, right?

Adam snorted. Yeah, right.

The door to his cell swung open, and he winced at the sudden bright light. A scowl immediately settled over his features at the sight of Alec. The other boy had changed a lot since the last time he'd seen him in the Gardiner base. His light brown hair was longer, almost grazing his chin now. A light dusting of hair covered his face, a beard that was reminiscent of his father's, Jonathan Blaine. And his vivid green eyes no longer had their usual merriment. They were flat and gazed at him with near indifference.

He wore an unfamiliar uniform. Black pants lined with red, and a black blazer emblazoned with the insignia of Gardiner: a circle and inside it, a red flame with three bold and red vertical lines behind it, signifying the three branches of the organization. Adam didn't know what the branches were, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

"Adam," Alec said as he walked inside. He stopped to study Adam as he sat up slowly. "You look good, old friend."

"I'm not your friend," Adam replied curtly.

"No, I guess not." Alec's upper lip curled almost imperceptibly. "You were always Marcus's friend. Not mine."

And with good reason. Marcus, for all of his conceitedness and volatile temperament, was true to himself. Alec, on the other hand—Adam had always suspected there was more beneath the surface. Shooting Sam had only been the tip of the iceberg.

"Come with me," Alec said and turned for the door.

Adam didn't trust him one bit, but he was eager for the chance to get out of that claustrophobia-inducing cell. He followed him along a massive sparkling-white hallway that was ten times better than the hallways of his research facility. Clearly, a lot of money had gone into this particular building.

"How is the old gang?" Alec said as they walked in tandem. He had his arms crossed behind his back, and his strides were controlled and calculated. Everything about him seemed controlled and calculated.

"Good. You'd know that for yourself if you hadn't stabbed us in the back."

"All I did was open my eyes to the truth." The anger and hatred in his voice sounded old and stale, something he'd harbored for so long. "Sam Parker was a master manipulator. He tried to steal my life from me with his lies. My legacy."

"Your father's legacy," Adam said.

"I used to see that distinction, too. I've grown up a lot since then. My father is a hard man, but he's straightforward and he doesn't play with people's lives to get what he wants. With him, what you see is what you get."

"A killer of children."

Alec laughed. "How many children have you guys killed out there? How many did your captain kill when he was working for my father?"

Adam fell silent, even though he hated being lumped together with a psychopath like Jonathan Blaine. He knew when to keep his mouth shut. Insulting Alec's dad would get him nothing but more time in the torture chambers.

"I haven't seen Willow since you escaped," Alec said, his tone softer.

Adam grunted.

"How is she?"

"Why do you care?"

"That's something I've been asking myself for months." Uncertainty entered his body, throwing off the precise movements of his steps. "Sam is the reason we were together. When I think about the times she told me she loved me, I think of Sam coaching her on what to say. I think of Eli touching her. But I also remember the way she'd smile at me when she said it."

His hand was fisted tightly. Adam glanced at him, frowning. He knew a lot about hanging on to memories. "Willow isn't always honest," he admitted, "but she cares about people. She hurt herself by hurting you."

There was a long moment of silence, interspersed with the thud of their shoes on the linoleum. "I'm sorry for the rough treatment these past few weeks," Alec said, his tone becoming smooth and professional again. "Despite my father's influence, the people in charge of this facility wanted to be absolutely sure that there was no risk of you blanking. Believe me, they put me through the same rigorous procedure. But now that you've been processed, the next phase of your life begins."

"Why are we alive?" Adam asked bluntly. "Why didn't you kill us already?"

Alec's eyebrows lifted in clear surprise. "Christ, Adam. I'm not interested in killing you. The only thing I've ever done is to try to stop you from yourselves. You are in danger out there. You are the danger. The minute you showed up on the Ancients' radar, you set into motion everything that's happening out there now. The human Blanks, the foreseeable destruction of our cities and eventually, our entire race."

The Shroud. The Others. The Ancients. So many names for one big problem. Adam tried to tell himself that Alec was probably lying, but his words still hollowed his stomach with dread.

"This war was inevitable," Alec continued. "From the moment we discovered the Source, we knew we would fight for our survival one day. We were hoping that day wouldn't be for another ten or fifteen years."

He was walking into a room as he gave his speech. Adam followed him in and came upon an unadorned rectangular room that served as an observation deck for whatever lay beyond the glass wall in front of them. And what lay beyond the glass shocked Adam into silence that, for the first time he could remember, wasn't of his own doing.

He looked at Alec, his mouth hanging open.

Alec smiled. "Luckily, we've been preparing."