“It’s scary how quickly truth can be rewritten,” he continues. “Within one generation after the Exodus, the truth of the original Makers and their discoveries was mostly forgotten, and by the next generation, completely so. Remnants of their legacy remain, but only under the guise of myths and legends.”

There’s a part of me that was never sure whether I really believed all the Families’ stories, that wondered if it has all just been exaggerated and lost in translation over the years. But hearing how Michael’s story fits with what I’ve been taught—it starts to sink in that this could all actually be real. I feel almost weightless, my muscles tight and trembling with a mix of excitement and confusion.

Michael’s pacing takes him to the kitchenette. “It’s been a long night,” he says. “Let me get you something to eat.” As he putters around, I observe him with new eyes, looking for signs that he’s from a society hidden by some big historical conspiracy. He looks normal. But there are subtle hints. There’s no branding on anything he’s wearing. His shoes look well worn, well made, and just a little too old-fashioned. He wears no watch. And I don’t think he has a cell phone, or if he does, he hasn’t pulled it out all night. I mean, that alone is weird.

He sits next to me on the bed and places a tray with a cup of tea and some cookies between us.

I’ve been too distracted to realize how hungry I am. I take my time eating the cookies and washing them down with tea. Michael’s not very good at sitting still. He runs his hands through his hair, chews his nails, drums his fingers on his knees.

“You know that you sound crazy, right?” I ask him, the way I assume a random teenage girl who has not grown up among the Families would. “Hidden society, centuries-long conspiracy, and all that?”

He stills his fidgeting and turns to face me. “I understand that it’s hard to second-guess everything you’ve ever learned. And there’s so much more than what I have told you. If you come with me to Genesis, I can show it all to you.”

It’s the exact invitation I’ve been hoping for. And it sounds incredible. But being kidnapped has really clobbered my enthusiasm.

Michael’s eyes brighten, and his dimple makes an appearance. “You know, Michelangelo was a Maker.”

This gets my attention. “What?”