Storm Brew

When my eyes peaked I felt heavy disorientation. A headache had claimed a special, torturous, place in my brain. My frontal lobe ached, throbbing after a night of crying. I wished my memory had been wiped clean. But the memory of what brought on such a violent reaction was still looping me into its web like a careful, resilient Black Widow.

My limbs weren't cold—contrary to my heart, if I still had one. I felt grateful for the near heat sprite. It was so warm and familiar… the smell of worn leather nuzzled its way into my sensitive nostrils, making my fingers twitch, grasping for the material underneath.

Since when were bed sheets made out of leather? They aren't, I thought trying to squirm in what felt like a restraining jacket.

When our eyes met, the first difference I pinpointed were the dark circles below his eyes. They weren't very accentuated, it didn't matter, though. I hated the sight of them on his face—it made me think of when I found him in that cell... all alone, hurt, starved—the memory made me wish I'd shot Drew more than three times.

Hoarsely, I invoked my voice, feeling the slightest pang of relief.

"You stayed."

"You wanted me to." Nate whispered, quietness filled his voice.

"You didn't sleep," I stated, behaving like a Zombie on crack. I couldn't come up with viable conversation, just facts.

Nate's nod was short and hesitant like the smallest movement would earn a negative reaction from me.

"You wouldn't stop crying, I was worried." There was a slight breath from his part. "I still am."

I looked at him hollowly knowing it didn't help his worry, but I didn't care about it. Really I didn't. I was this close to Nathaniel and for the first time since a long, long time I didn't feel the urge to kiss him, to be with him. Not right now. With every glance I took of him I could see Nate felt the opposite. Nothing triggered in me, though.

He didn't know. Not yet, no one had told him.

I was certain Anna knew by now. Aric must've been forced to tell her or maybe she'd gone to the source. The file—the thing I wanted to set aflame.

"I need a shower." I came up with so he'd release me. I couldn't be with him.

"I think that can wait, don't you?" his finger pads smoothed my bangs to the side, my eyes gazed at him like I was a deer and he was the headlights. "Talk to me, princess. What's wrong?"

What's wrong… what happened… Things he wanted to know, things I didn't know where to begin explaining.

I pushed his hand from my skin—leaving him stunned. I took that minute to slid to the end of bed, getting to my feet.

"Melissa," he stood lighting fast at my side. "Are you feeling alright…?" You're scaring me, I could hear it implied. Maybe he had the right to be scared.

I turned with a mighty calm expression, I don't think I ever felt so calm. Feeling this calm wasn't normal—people who felt this calm were serial killers about to go out into the world for a killing spree. My head cocked ever so slightly, my lips felt dry, caked with dried saliva and tears. I parted them twice before anything came out.

"I don't feel anything." Our eyes were locked but unlike all the other times, I wasn't connecting with Nate on any level. I was glazed over.

The hand holding mine did nothing to keep me in place when I began walking away, it simply slipped.

Under the running water my eyes closed. I sighed deeply. There wasn't anything worth inside me anymore. My best friend was an assassin and lied about it all my life, the person I was in love with… seemed to like killing more than he cared about me. Aric was…

I slammed my naked back into the tiled wall; my eyes flew open, staring at drops of cold water raining from the shower head. I did feel, but I'd rather I didn't.

I felt depressed, angry—most of all… I was disgusted with myself. And that was the worst thing you could feel about yourself.

No matter how I scrubbed off I didn't feel cleaner. The filthiness remained, it wasn't coming out—and it wouldn't. I'd be like this forever... tainted. My skin was turning red by now—my arms, my legs, shoulders—every inch of me was wrong. I couldn't simply wash it away with water or soap bars.

I waswrong. I hated it and now, I had to live with it forever. What had she been thinking? My Mother, why had she wanted me to know? I was better off not knowing—I banged my fists into the wall. How was I supposed to—what did I—how could I…?

I bared my teeth, slamming my fists into the tiles again—until a scream rippled through my throat. It was haunted, deeply strangled, laced with fury and revolt.

On the other side of the door I could hear Nate banging a hand over it—yelling at me. I didn't bother with sending him away, he wouldn't go. I had tried ignoring him for days, to hurt him, and he still hadn't gone away. It would be impossible to make him leave after yesterday night's weakness.

After getting into my clothes, I looked towards the door. Nate was on the outside.

"Open the door, Mel." He tried once more, it surprised me how he hadn't kicked it down yet. "I want to… I…"

I brushed my teeth mechanically, blinking every once in a while into the mirror. Suddenly, I cast my gaze downwards. A few more minutes of doing nothing, just thinking, in the bathroom, I walked up to the door twisting the key. Nate took a step back, eyes skimming me—down to my wrists as if expecting to find traces of some kind.

I shook my head going to brush past him.

"I didn't cut myself. You can stop searching for a bleeding vein." My shoulder bumped his forearm.

He whirled and made me do the same by taking hold of my arm with the kind of force that used to leave bruises on my skin. I glared numbly at him.

"We're going to talk. You're going to tell me what the hell happened—what yesterday was all about."

"I don't feel like talking." I shot equally aggressive, I had never liked when he manhandled me.

Nathaniel propelled me towards him, muscles bulking underneath the T-shirt, the leather jacket was gone. I gritted my teeth at the hot poker screwing around with my anger, next thing I knew my knuckles were buzzing with mild hurt, but there was a growing satisfaction inside me as I was released.

It lasted seconds, until a new sensation took over my cheek.

My head returned to its original position staring at Nathaniel, whose left cheek sported a nice looking red spot, and the smallest corner of his lip was split showing a redder shade.

I watched as Nate's hand fell to his side.

I didn't need to feel my right cheek to know how it was burning intensely. That was the first time I didn't get away with hitting him, the one time I thought I would, I didn't. Surprises never ceased with Nathaniel that was sure, the weirdest thing was, I didn't mind he'd hit me back.

We stood, staring into each other's eyes.

"I don't want to be with you—" I started out softly, not yelling.

"Can you stop feeding me lies you don't even believe in? I'm tired of chasing you around, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I'm getting fed up with the whole charade, because I am and I'm this close to…" He trailed off swallowing.

I don't know why but hope sparked into my heart. I was just dying to hang on to something. Nate was the person I wanted to rely on if I needed to—last night was more than proof—and right now I did. I wanted his comfort, his strength, but I couldn't let myself enjoy it even if I knew he… he wouldn't mind that I was wrong. That was Nathaniel, he didn't mind that I'd killed, that I'd ran away from him and Anna, in the end he forgave me for everything—because on all those levels he understood me, when he didn't, he tried. I remember thinking once, that was all I could ask from him, from anyone, that they tried.

"You're close to what?" I whispered noticing how that little bit of hope he'd created transpired into my tone. "To… leave?" I added hoping that wasn't what he meant, in the end I didn't want to drive him away from me. I wanted to drive him away from the Hive. Somewhere, I still believed Nathaniel would cave in.

Nate's mouth parted, I never noticed myself inching closer.

"Why were you crying yesterday, and the screaming in the shower—what's it all about?" I backed up slowly, shaking my head a little.

"I don't want to talk about that." I declared, feeling my spark dying like a fire in the cold desolated winter.

Nate followed my every step until, finally, his arms wrapped me, lifting me from the floor. I was standing at his height, my face tilted away from his, though.

His eyes burned with their usual fight and resolve, beautiful, twinkling brandy irises that bored down into my soul. I should feel ravished on some personal level, but I did the same to him, or used to. Right now, I didn't have the strength to dive into Nate's soul to see what was wrong, that and I didn't need to. It had never been more obvious what he was feeling.

"You remember all those talks about who to trust?" I nodded never breaking our eye contact. "Remember how it always ended?"

It was impossible not to.

"With you telling me to trust you…" I responded sheepishly, feeling Nate grabbing my legs softly, adjusting them so it would be easier for him to hold me.

"That's right," he confirmed. "And you did, no matter what twisted, horrible things I said or did to you. You believed in me—believed I'd do the right thing to help you." Our chests were glued together, and in this position Nate could kiss me—it wouldn't take much, but he didn't. It surprised me.

Nate was taking a talk seriously, normally he'd just try to kiss me and think it would make everything alright. It would, but only for the duration of our kiss.

"Do you still trust me?" he asked, placing his left cheek—the red one—against my own.

Against every judgment, I did. What was what they said about love? Oh yeah, it was blind. Well, in my case it wasn't blind, nah-huh, it was mindless—stupid, foolish, there was a long list of adjectives.

"Always." I leaned my head down, burying it in the crook of his neck.

Nate lowered his chin to my shoulder.

"Then you know you can tell me anything. I'll help you, always." I jumped a little, startled as his lush lips touched my neck gently.

A massive sized sigh escaped before I began telling him the horrible discovery I'd made.

***

"You're not wrong," Nate whispered allowing me to curl up in his arms further. "You could never have imagined something like that happened. It's not your fault, Mel." His finger traced my arm over and over.

We were on the bed. There hadn't been anything going on between us. Nate hadn't tried any moves, if he had I wouldn't have allowed them. I think he knew. We were just laying together, like we had been when I woke up. Nate knew I wouldn't back down from my resolve concerning us, but he also knew I needed him at the moment, so he wouldn't refuse me. I felt even worse about myself, about doing this to him, because I could see longing, want and need in his eyes as well—I wanted to know what had happened between him and his parents, but I didn't think I could deal with it right now. Too many truths about parents and all…

"It doesn't change the fact that I was made out of a…"

Nate shrugged softly looking to me.

"You don't have to say it." No, but I had to come to terms with it and you should always call something by what it was. "Yes, I do." I replied with a little more conviction. "My Mom was raped and I'm… a product of it."

It felt awful saying it out loud, just like expected. It sounded ten times worse than when I echoed it in my mind. Shivers of sadness and anger racked across my whole body killing my heart a little more every time.

Nathaniel stopped brushing my arm only to twine our fingers.

"No wonder she didn't want anything to do with me."

"That's not true," Nate lowered himself a little more so we'd be face to face. "You know it's not. Anna's proof, isn't she? Your Mother asked her so many things about your life and she talked with me about you, I know she loved you, princess."

I rearranged the position of my head on the pillow.

"But she got pregnant with me because of…" I couldn't say it again. Nate's arm wrapped my waist once more.

"She could've stopped the pregnancy, right? She didn't. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"That she was a masochist? I mean, every time she looked at me she was probably reminded of… that night and who would want that?" I snuggled into his chest. "No one would, Nate. Why would they? Why would she…?"

Nate's chin rested on top of my russet head, his breathing was soft, slow and calm. I hoped he could transfer some of that to me, because I was the complete reverse.

"It takes two people to make a baby." I jerked my head staring him in the eye, pleading he wouldn't give a lecture on how kids were made. We were way past the birds and bees talk. "What I mean is, you have two halves and together they make a whole. You're not just Vi—"

I cringed, "Please don't say his name." I begged, eyes throbbing with unspoken pain.

"You're not just his daughter, you're Elena's too and I think that's what she thought of when she looked at you. She thought what a wonderful daughter she had. Look, I'm not saying you didn't came out of something horrible, because it is an awful thing, probably one of the worst experiences for a woman—" He cupped the cheek he'd slapped gingerly. "But in the end, you were a good part of that. If your Mother decided not to have you she'd be killing off part of her, she couldn't do it because of that." His cool finger brushed my eyebrow. "Besides, you look so much like her it would be impossible for her to think about anything else."

I looked like her… But did I look like him? I had no idea what he looked like.

"Do you look like your Mom?" it hit me that I'd never asked him what his parent's had looked like, perhaps because I knew it pained him when they were brought up. "Does it hurt a lot... remembering them?"

Nate relaxed into the mattress a little while after, looking like he'd thought it over.

"It's easier to talk about them with you than with anyone else—but yeah, it stings." If I could muster a smile I would've given it to him, for being honest with me. I stayed quiet as a far off glazed expression took him over, right before he started talking. "You know I don't have a good memory of my Dad, but... I saw pictures—Mom showed them to me after he died, she did that a lot. I don't think she wanted me to forget him." My eyelashes fanned my cheeks as they dropped for a little while, imagining Nate as a child—"I got his eyes but my hair's courtesy of my Mom. Aric has her eyes, though." There was a tense pause between us when he finished saying 'Aric'. "I really want to beat the crap out of him."

"It's not his fault, either." It was true, but I was pretty pissed at him, just like Nathaniel. "Can I help?"

There was a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I'd love to see you punch him senseless but I figure he owes explanations."

"Can I do it afterwards?"

"You betcha." He agreed tucking strands of semi-wet hair behind my ear.

I didn't want to go anywhere, if I could choose I would spend the rest of the day with Nate. Cuddled up, cozy and safe. I didn't have much of a choice. My brain wouldn't stop throwing questions at me, since Nate didn't hold those answers I had to look for someone who did.

That someone was in the next room with my best friend doing things I'd rather not picture, especially now.

It was a whole new level of awkwardness.

I didn't trust Nate wouldn't start knocking some heavy sense into Aric the minute the motel door cracked open, so we both went. Though, before we walked up to the door I packed my stuff and piled it into Nate's car. I just wanted to leave after having this talk...

"Please knock," I whispered feeling weird.

He grinned, looking down at me amused, "Why? Afraid their doing something they shouldn't?" I wrinkled my nose up at him, his eyes slit only to widen afterwards. "God help me," he muttered shaking his head before knocking three loud times.

Nate rubbed my shoulder as the door came open, thinking I'd run.

Anna appeared on the other side wearing a shirt that we all knew didn't belong to her, the jeans were skinny proving they couldn't be anyone else's, though. Her hair wasn't messy, her eyes were on me obviously.

Nate placed a hand on the door frame, pushing it a little. Ann's eyes shot to him.

"Are you going to let us in?" he nodded towards the room making no comment on her attire.

"Yeah, huh, sure." She mumbled after spying a glance over her shoulder. "Come in."

Nate stayed behind, allowing me first passage into the room—even if I didn't look forward to stare Aric in the eye, little alone listen to what he had to say. Assuming he actually had answers.

When Nate sat beside me on the couch, I noticed he didn't keep any distance between us. Any other time, I would've scooted to the side, this time around though, I stayed right there. Unmoving.

There weren't any bags, I imagined they'd placed them inside their cars too. At least Anna knew I wouldn't want to stick in Illinois for much longer.

My eyes were suddenly glued to the brown file where my Mother's name, the assault date and the criminal's own identification were imprinted. Nine months or so after the rape incident was my birthday. My insides tingled with icy chills. When Nathaniel reached down for it, reading the content I glanced to a wall, forcing the emotions that had swept over me when I'd read it.

Aric came strolling out of the bathroom with a graphic T-shirt, jeans and jacket. He didn't look like he'd been having sex at all. I would've questioned Anna about the manly shirt she was using, but the timing was all but right.

"Calmed down?"

I couldn't help but grit my teeth feeling like a rabid dog ready to jump and attack.

"Do you know how much its killing me not to throw you under a truck?" I whispered with a dangerous slit of eyes.

He ran a hand through the thick mass of dark hair.

"Isn't there something people say about not hating the messenger?"

"You knew what that file had, you knew what I was going to find out. You knew since we met." I crossed my arms to keep my hands from shaking with frustration. "You could've spared me the knowledge."

A somber shadow of sadness crossed his glowing eyes.

"No, luv, I really couldn't. It had to come out. You needed to know the truth, all of it. Your Mother knew that, that's why she led you to the evidence." He shifted under my tearful gaze. "For what's worth, I'm sorry. I really am." It didn't make me feel much better.

There was a torrent of movement behind me, then a hot presence over my shoulder made itself known. Nathaniel glanced at him directly, eyes sharp, sparrow like. I honestly believed Nate would kill Aric if he didn't have a nice excuse for all that was going on, from my Mother's rape, to his knowledge about everything and his involvement with both The Order and us.

"You better tell the truth, the whole truth, with no holes in between. I'm running dangerously low on patience for you." Nate stared into his emerald eyes—not jokingly at all.

Aric's sigh was one of relentlessness.

"Okay," he agreed, surprising me and everyone else in this room, I think. "Where do you want me to start?"

I took a breath before standing a little straighter.

"The beginning is always a good place." My head tilted studying his profile as he sat lazily on the room's arm chair.

"Alright," he crossed his leg, the skin under his T-shirt showed as he stretched his arms. "My Father is an absolutist when it comes to power. Since he's from one of the two founding families he always had control over a lot of things. My Mum," I felt Nate pull back a little. "She was from the other family. Don't ask me what she saw in him, but they got married and they had me. I don't remember, but I know that four months or so later my Mother was gone. She'd left my Father and The Order. She got out and divorced him." I found my mouth parting but he gave me a long stare—or it felt that way to me—saying not to interrupt. "Guess she found out some other indiscretions Vincent committed."

My brows pinched, "Like what he did to my Mother?" I muttered with a bitter edge.

Anna glanced at me from where she was leaning on the wall. Aric settled deeper into the chair's backseat.

"No, not like that, other things." He said leaving us all wondering about those other things. "But moving on," his head rested on a closed fist, I got the idea he was glancing over my shoulder to Nate, and not at me. "My Mother visited me a lot, Vincent didn't like that, but back then my Grandfather was still around so Mum got a free pass. Dad took care of that after much planning and plotting. He killed my Grandfather," now he was truly looking at Nate. "Our Grandfather," he clarified. "Then he killed our Mother."

I didn't feel like looking behind me but I knew what I would see. A stone still Nathaniel, his face void. In the quietness of the room I could nearly hear the hammering of his heart. When I glanced down though, I saw his hand coiled in a white fist. He was cutting off his own circulation, that couldn't be good at all.

"He told her she should've let me go." Aric appeared as calm and collected as ever while saying this. "Then he killed her."

I thought Nate was going to jump from the couch and hit his older brother, there was tension rippling the air. To my amazement, I witnessed Nathaniel's fist unfolding, shoulders relaxing. An overwhelming feeling came over me. I was impressed by the display of self-control—proud, too.

"Our Mom's dead because of you, is that it?" Nate's voice was frost, I even saw Anna shake her frame as if a gust of cold unforgiving wind had blown into the room.

Aric's eyes met his younger brother's gaze squarely.

"Yes," he admitted with no quarrels. "Not that I asked for her to keep seeing me, I mean, she seemed happy enough with the life she had." He shrugged lightly. "Must have been a Mother thing."

My fingers brushed his on accident, but then, they remained touching.

"I thought you grew up in The Order though, I still don't see why you apparently want to help." I questioned putting my feelings aside for the moment being.

"I was with my Father—with The Order up until I was thirteen."

"What happened after that?"

"I ran away," my eyes bulged a little. "See, when you say I'm in The Order it's true, I am. Because once you're in, you don't get out, not after all the training session you're put through. No matter what you do you're mind will always remember—the flashbacks will never stop haunting you. But if you ask if I'm working for them..." Aric took a little time to grace us with a smirk. "It's different, and the answer's no. I've never done one single job for them. I haven't been home in a while, actually. Not that I know where that is, with the constant moving my Father does I can never locate him—he's quite efficient in covering tracks." There was a nod in Nate's direction. "You saw it firsthand."

Me and Anna glanced to my ex-boyfriend at the same time. Aric said nothing more as Nate thought about what he'd heard. When it sunk into his brain there seemed to be an ignition.

"My house..." he murmured.

I remembered. His house had been empty, like no one had ever lived there when the Police took him there looking for clues on his Mom's whereabouts. Sympathy filled my heart for him, it was horrible.

"The place I grew up in is just as empty as your house was. I checked it out about a year ago when I came back from Australia. There was nothing." There was no underline of pain about that—he didn't miss his home.

Anna had been quiet and distant all this time, but now, she approached us, sitting on the chair's arm. The one Aric was sitting on.

She glanced down.

"You spent eleven years in Australia?" she queried, arms crossed. Again I wondered why the hell was she wearing one of his shirts.

"No," he shifted, I couldn't help but study the look going on between them, and wondered if Anna was feeling more than she had originally planned. "I was around here for a while. I was in a gang until I was sixteen putting to good use the skills I'd been taught. Especially stealing." He mused the last part. "I finished high school when I was seventeen, quit the gang and traveled around the country. That's when I got acquainted with other organizations."

"Like the Hive?" I interjected. He nodded. "Did you know Nate was there?" my demoted-bodyguard did a double take of surprise.

Aric's eyes left Anna's, meeting my face.

"I knew about Nate because my Mother told me. When I was eighteen, I learned that he'd been adopted—"

"How?" I snapped, detesting how calm he always was.

"I had a source there, until she got killed."

"She?" Aric had been gazing intensely at me while saying 'she got killed'… "Drew was your source?" I sounded a little shocked.

He shrugged with a little glare.

"You sound shocked, you shouldn't. After all, she killed your parents for money. Passing information wasn't really that bad."

Nathaniel nodded, a bit distantly, probably absorbed in thoughts.

"I hate to say it, but he's right on this one." Anna stated in a monotone.

My feelings should have been contained, I was trying to get myself—my heart—apart from Nathaniel, but it seemed impossible since he saw through the acts, and after last night I couldn't say I had trouble believing him. I'd ran to him for comfort, I used him as my safe haven, not anyone else.

So, it wasn't all that surprising when I lashed out in protective mode on Nate's behalf.

"You knew he was there, that you were brothers and didn't care? What kind of person does that?" I began to rise from my seat. I was angry, that seemed a very big understatement—this might have been the last drop.

"Mel," Nate muttered with the intuit of shutting me up, like I'd listen.

"Did you know what that bitch put him through—what she did to him? How could you just leave him—"

"Stop," Nate's hands came to my shoulders, he'd gotten up and now we stood in the middle of the room. "What are you doing?" he whispered so low only I could hear.

I blinked, staring at him slightly aghast. I saw what he didn't want to put into words. He didn't want anyone knowing what Drew had done to him, neither the physical hurt or mental. He just trusted me with it.

I stopped then. Was that what it took to hurt him? Tell people about...

I parted my lips thinking about doing it... I couldn't. He'd trusted me so much with the information, he'd been so personal about it all... there wasn't a chance in the world that I'd do it. Never.

"I wasn't the parental type. I still aren't." Aric spoke up breaking us apart. "Besides, running away from a cult isn't all that fun." When we turned to look at him, my eyes were cast to the floor. Aric's head was cocked.

"Why are you running from The Order?"

"Because I enjoy living." Aric rolled his eyes. "My Father isn't a nice person at all—on any level. He destroys people's lives." The sourness and repulse inside the usual velvet tone surprised me. Aric really didn't like his Father, did he? But what did he win by helping me, what was in for him? "He exploits your weakness, your fears and if you don't have one he'll be sure to take care of that. He's a horrible person and I know that. I hate what he's done, what he still does and that's why I want your help."

There it was.

"How am I supposed to help? It's not like I know anything about your Father." It burned my throat to say it, to think of Aric's Father... because he was mine too.

"Your parents are dead for a reason, Melissa and The Order's after you because they know sooner or later you're going to find out—"

I shot my arms up, "What? What else could I possibly find out? Because I can't take much more of this, any of it. I'm reaching my limit."

His eyes flickered like a green flame.

"They know you'll find the evidence your parents got on The Order and Vincent." My mouth parted as I breathed, puzzle pieces clicking into place. "Your parents knew they were taking a big risk gathering all the proof there was to be gathered against them. They got hold of things... things I couldn't find. They left it for you, so you can do the right thing." I watched carefully as Aric leaned forward, gazing into my aquamarine irises. "They're giving you a shot to end one of the most criminal operations in history."

"And how do you fit into this?" Nate perked up.

Aric's eyes left mine as they fell on his younger brother.

"I'll help you get the evidence and make sure they're delivered into the right hands. It can't be just anywhere, The Order has many police officers and other ranks under their influence—in several states. The one with a lower influence is Washington."

"Just that? That's all you want?"

"No," I jerked my head upwards locking my eyes on him. "I want a file that should be there, along with all the felonies my Father committed."

"What is it?"

Muscles of anticipation jumped his jaw.

"Safe houses—all the locations he could be hiding in, right now." Aric eyed every one of us in turn. "I want to find him, and I want to kill him." I noticed the deepness in his low eyes.

"Okay," Anna said standing, hands up. We turned to her. "So, situation point," she spun pointing a finger down at Aric. "You want to kill your Father and to demolish the organization your families built?"

Looking at her with a razor glare he answered, "That's exactly it."

Nathaniel stepped aside when I took one single step forward. If anyone saw us in here, they'd think we were cornering Aric in the motel's arm chair.

Aric heaved a short sigh, letting his head drop.

"The man killed my family—the people I actually liked. I don't like him, I hate him. I want him dead."

Well, alright, when he put it like that I could believe what Aric was telling us. I still had questions, many of them. Some were best left to be asked in private. Like, why he hadn't told me we were... related. Even if it was through an horrible act. Aric was my half-brother.

My shoulders hunched then dropped. At least now there were things that made sense; like my Mother's change since her visit to Chicago, I'm guessing she joined the Hive for revenge—she wanted to get Vincent back for what he'd done. Hitting where it hurt him—The Order—his source of power.

Something like a whistle called my attention. Apparently, I hadn't been the only one hearing it. They were quiet looking around, no one made a single noise—

"Get down!" Nathaniel's yell was lost in a explosion of noise and a hot wave spreading above our bodies.