I sighed. “No. Stay with Mr. Holland. I’m not mad at you, not really, I just need time to deal with everything. I’ll call you when I’m ready. Okay?”

“Okay. All right. Just tell me that you know I love you.”

“I do. I know. And I love you, too.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I stood, the packet of pictures falling to the floor. In a daze, I tripped my way to my little sister and just kind of fell at her feet. She wasn’t solid to me, and I wasn’t solid to her, but still she traced her fingers through my hair.

“You’re only my half sister,” I said softly.

“And that makes you adore me less?” she asked.

“Never!”

“Well, it’s the same for me.”

“But the woman who gave birth to me was evil. Awful.” Except to me. “She turned on her best friend. She helped kill Cole’s mother.”

“Well, then, I’ve got another bit of good news for you. You are not her. You’re the one and only Alice, perfect in every way.”

Hardly. “I have her push-ability, Em. I’m a lot like her.”

“Well, the other slayers are about to be a lot like her, too.”

Um...what? “Explain.”

Sighing, she said, “When Helen passed her ability to you, it broke through some kind of defensive shield and changed you.”

“That, I know.”

“Changed you more than you’ve realized,” she said. “More than she realized. Now whenever you use your fire on a slayer, you share your abilities with them.”

I wanted to deny it, but there was already proof to the contrary. I’d used my fire on both Gavin and Jaclyn, and they’d had a vision for the first time. “Helen said that once an ability is passed, the original possessor no longer has it. I’m still in possession of mine.”

“Maybe it was the testing you endured as a child. Maybe it was the drugs and toxins you were injected with when you were tortured. Whatever the reason, you are different.”

Who else had I healed? Would they develop new abilities, too? If so, would they thank me—or curse me?

Emma pointed to the packet of pictures. “Why don’t you look them over? I think you’ll be surprised by what you find.”

Chapter 19

OFF WITH YOUR

MESSED UP HEAD

I riffled through the photos of Helen, Sami, Erin and Veronica, my hands trembling. It was odd, seeing the strong, determined woman from my dreams—and the few times she’d appeared to me—relaxed, almost happy.

But Veronica was right. Sami—I—had rarely smiled.

In all but one of the photos, I was sullen, clinging to Helen. In the single exception, I was in a sandbox with the slightly older Veronica; I knew it was her. Those dark curls were unmistakable.

A tear rolled down my check, hot and stinging, and just like that, a dam broke, ushering in an uncontrollable storm. A sob erupted, soon joined by another...and another. Everything I’d compartmentalized, planned to deal with later, burst free of its prison.

“Oh, Alice,” Emma said, then spoke no more.

Sorrow. Trina, Lucas, Collins and Cruz—dead, ashed.

Heartache. Me, the girl who valued truth above almost anything, lived in a tangled web of lies.

Shock. My mother wasn’t my mother.

More heartache. What would happen when Cole was hurt in the woods, like our vision predicted? Would I lose him?

Guilt. I was keeping a secret from Cole.

Though I wanted to wallow in all that I was feeling, I knew I had to let the emotions go. Finally. Once and for all. They were part of the past, and I couldn’t move forward if I was always looking back.

I’d never needed to move forward more than I did now. But all I really knew how to do was stuff the emotions back in their compartments. And I might have done it, except the walls hadn’t just crumbled—they’d exposed a wound, and if I rebuilt over it, I’d find myself back in this tragic place one day.

“Ali? Emma said something was wrong.” Suddenly Cole was sitting beside me, drawing me into the warmth and strength of his embrace.

I sagged against him, burrowing my face in the hollow of his neck and crying. Crying so hard I convulsed. He never let go, just held tighter, running his fingers through my hair and whispering soft words of comfort into my ear.

Things like “I love you, Ali-gator” and “We’ll get through this” and “This isn’t going to break us” and “We’re stronger than that.”

When finally I quieted, he picked me up and carried me out of the room, away from the pictures and the pain. My eyes were swollen; they burned as if they’d brushed up against actual flames. My nose was so stuffy I could barely breathe, and every ounce of energy had abandoned me. Just then, I was nothing more than a melted puddle of goo. Embarrassed goo, at that. I’d probably left snot on Cole’s shirt.

He entered another bedroom; one glowing with candles. It was spacious, with two separate parts. The bed, and the entertainment area, with a plush couch and a coffee table piled high with food. Some of my favorites. Fettuccine Alfredo. Stuffed mushrooms. Fried cheese. Chocolate-chip cookies topped with vanilla ice cream.

“I put together a hideaway for us,” he said, easing me to the edge of the bed. Soft music played in the background. “Thought we could finally have our first date.”

A lance through my acid-ruined chest. “You shouldn’t have done it. Not for me. Cole, Helen is—”