“Unless she’s—” Tori began.

Simon’s glare shut her up. “She’s fine. But we need to get them and our dad out. Chloe’s aunt doesn’t think he was taken by them, but he must have been.”

“I’d have to agree,” Andrew said. “Nothing in my own searches has suggested any other explanation.”

Derek looked over sharply. “You’ve been looking for him?”

“For all of you.”

We drove for almost an hour and passed through only one big town. We were getting farther and farther from New York City. Finally, Andrew turned into a private drive even longer and more winding than his own.

“Where are we? A safe house for supernaturals?” Simon nudged me. “Like something out of a movie, huh?”

“Well, it certainly has played that role before, for supernaturals on the run from Cabals,” Andrew said.

“Cabals?” Tori said.

“A whole other situation. But this place really serves more as a hostel for visiting members of our group. It was owned by one of our first members—an ancestral estate that he willed to us for the cause.”

“What cause?” Tori asked.

“Monitoring and ultimately disbanding the Edison Group.” He slowed as the dirt lane turned rough. “Or that was our original goal. We started as a band of former Edison Group employees, defectors like me who were concerned about their actions. Not just the Genesis Two project—that is one of our main concerns, but the Edison Group goes far beyond that. Eventually, we were joined by others, who took issue not only with the Edison Group’s activities but with those of the Cabals and other supernatural organizations. Still, the Edison Group has remained our primary focus—monitoring their activities, conducting small acts of sabotage.”

“Sabotage?” Simon said. “Cool.”

“Small acts. Our main goal has been on monitoring, to the growing disgust of some of our members, myself included.”

“Was Dad involved?” Simon asked.

Andrew shook his head. “I suppose you know your dad and I had—”

“A falling-out.”

“Yes. And it was over this group. Your dad always stayed out of it. Too political for him. He’d been willing to help, but otherwise he didn’t participate. He thought it would call undue attention to you boys. But I was pressured by the others to bring him in. As the father of two subjects from the Edison Group’s most ambitious—and potentially dangerous—project, he’d be the perfect person to help attract powerful new members from the supernatural community. He was furious. All his work to keep you hidden, and now I wanted this. I’ll admit, I supported the idea. But I underestimated the danger you faced from the Edison Group. I see that now.”

He turned another corner, slowing more as the ruts in the road got deeper. “After your dad and you two disappeared, and we heard rumors the Edison Group had you boys, some of us began arguing for a more active stance. We were convinced you—and the other subjects—were in danger. Others with more influence insisted that the group wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Well, they were wrong,” Tori said.

“Yes, and with your story, we’ll have the proof we need to take action.”

We turned yet another corner and the house appeared. For a moment, all we could do was stare. It was like something out of a gothic novel—a huge rambling Victorian, three stories tall, surrounded by forest. If there were gargoyles up there, shrouded by darkness, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Cool,” Simon said. “Now this is where supernaturals should live.”

Andrew chuckled. “And, for the next few days, it’s where you’re going to live. You can settle in here and rest while we make plans.” He glanced back at us as he parked. “But don’t get too comfortable. I’m about to ask the group to conduct a jailbreak at Edison Group headquarters, and it’s been a lot of years since any of us have been there. We’re going to need your help.”

Forty-three

I WENT TO BED and I slept. I wasn’t sure I would, with the lingering excitement of the night, my fear over Aunt Lauren, my worries about the surrounding forest, filled with animal corpses waiting to be raised. But for the first time in weeks, we were safe, and that was all the encouragement my exhausted brain and body needed to shut down and bless me with deep, dreamless sleep.

I knew this wasn’t the end. Not by a long shot. Even the first step—persuading the rest of this group to go back—wouldn’t be as easy as Andrew hoped. And even when it was over, it wouldn’t truly be over. Not for me.

I was changed. Not just the genetic modification, but me—I was different. The very thought of going home to Dad and our condo and my school and friends made my brain reel. That life was gone now. Maybe I’d go back to it someday, but it would be like replacing an actor with someone who looked, sounded, and even behaved differently. I wouldn’t be the same person. I wasn’t even sure I could play the role.

My old life felt like a dream—a mostly pleasant, uneventful dream. Now I’d awakened from it and realized who I was and what I was, for better or worse. There was no closing my eyes and sliding back into that blissful dream of normal. This was my normal now.