“What’s her story?” Lyric asks, looking under my bedspread. “I know she came here when she was seven, but that’s about it.”

“Her mother was a drug addict like mine. She got taken away and ended up here. That’s about all I know.”

“Strange.” Lyric contemplates something as her gaze deliberately sweeps my room. “Wait a minute… Are you sure he didn’t take anything? Like maybe something Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan didn’t know you had?”

“I have a couple of things…” I open the top drawer and my heart skips a beat. “My knife is gone.”

“The one you were trying to give Rebel Tonic?”

“Yeah, but why would he take that,” I glide the drawer shut and rub my jawline, “out of all the things in this house that have value?”

“Maybe it wasn’t for value purposes.” Her skin suddenly pales as her eyes round.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting down on the bed beside her.

“Don’t be mad, okay, but last night, after the incident, I couldn’t sleep, so I did some searching on the Internet about the Soulless Mileas.” She collects my laptop from the nightstand, sets it on her lap, and boots up the screen. “I think I remember something about rituals and needing an object that belongs to the person the ritual is for.”

“Why?”

“Hold on.” Her fingers hammer against the keys as she types something in the browser then pulls up a page. “Read here.” She taps her finger against the screen

Leaning over her shoulder, I skim the paragraph then frown. “Where did you find this website?”

“After like ten searches, it popped up.” She shudders. “It says they need something off you too… like a belonging you carry or fingernails—weird stuff like that. It’s so crazy. That people do this … it gives me chills.”

I rub my eyes and reread the paragraph again. “It’s pretty vague about what the rituals are for.”

“You talked about a ritual last night,” she says cautiously. “Do you remember anything about it?”

A hot branding iron,

melting the flesh.

Forever marking you with our sins.

Little images sear inside my brain, ironically while I’m not in therapy. My fingers graze the homemade tattoo hidden beneath my shirt and distorted memories jolt through my mind. This mark was their mark. The mark of their group… What I would give to get rid of the ink on my skin, forget it was ever put on me, what it symbolizes—pure evil. “It might have something to do with this, but that’s about all I can remember.” I lower my head into my hands as my temples throb. Between this, the guy breaking in, and still no response from Rebel Tonic, I have a headache. “We need to tell Lila and Ethan about this.”

Lyric slams the laptop shut. “Okay, but you also need a break.” She stands up and slips a hand around my wrist, giving my arm a gentle tug. “How about we go get ready for the art show? We probably can head out there soon, too, if you’re ready?”

“I’m not sure I’m allowed to go to that anymore. Lila said something about me staying home as much as possible.”

“She’s going to the art show, so I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I was eavesdropping on her and my mom this morning and heard them talking about it?” She frees my wrist when I finally get up from the bed. “I guess Aunt Lila is catering the event.”

“Hear anything interesting?” I grab my blue hoodie from the closet.

“Not really.” She frowns, disappointed. “They mostly just talked about the type of cake to serve and what wine my mom wants.”

“I really should press her more about that letter.” I slide my arms through the sleeves of my jacket.

“But you won’t.” She opens my bedroom door. “Because you’re too nice.”

“I just don’t want to come off sounding ungrateful.” I follow her out of the room and down the hallway. “Especially with everything that’s been going on. They have to be stressed out and I’m the one causing that stress.”

“I’m sure they don’t look at it like that.” She slips her fingers through mine as we head downstairs to the kitchen. “I mean, my parents have put up with a lot of shit from me over the years and I know for a fact they still love and want me. It comes with being a parent. Unconditional love no matter how much of a pain in the ass your kids are. And besides, this thing going on isn’t your fault. It’s completely out of your control.”

“I still brought it into their lives.”

“Yeah, but like I heard Aunt Lila say that night, they knew it was a possibility that this could happen and they still chose to adopt you.” She gives my hand a comforting squeeze. “That’s how special you are.”

Even though I don’t entirely agree with her, I brush my lips against hers. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” she says, then she grabs the back of my head and fiercely kisses me back.

Her tongue slips out and parts my lips, causing a shudder to ripple through my body. A good shudder. One that makes me excruciatingly ache inside, long for more.

Suddenly, the door bangs shut. Lyric and I jump apart, breathless and gasping for air. Lila strolls into the kitchen with grocery bags in her hands.