Dr. Vandewater turns her graceful neck and gazes at my mother placidly. “Nothing’s been decided. This batch of plan B pregnancies aren’t going well. We’ve had to change plans.” Her tone tightens and her hands claw around each other for a moment. Then she takes a deep breath and continues. “With the right treatments, she can be saved. Not the fetus, unfortunately. We weren’t able to stop the mutations.”

“What?” I snap my eyes to her.

Her head snaps back, eyes wide as if she’s revealed too much. “Nothing.” She smoothes a hand over her hair and forces a smile. “What happens to your mother is going to be up to you and Clay.”

“To me and Clay?”

She touches an index finger to the metallic disk inside her ear. “Location of Clay?” she asks and then waits for a moment and nods. “He’ll be here in twenty seconds.” She gives a little smile. “Perfect timing.”

Ethan drops my hand and takes a step forward, fists clenched at his sides. “What’re you gonna do to Clay?”

She leans down and smiles at him. “Clay will be fine, little Ethan. Don’t you worry about that.” When she smiles her teeth are straight and white as bleached tombstones.

The doors behind us swish open. Clay charges into the room. He squints against the blinding lights, throwing up a hand to shield his eyes. He stumbles over to me. “Riley, Ethan, what—” His eyes fall on his father and the woman in the suit. “Pa? What …” Shock creeps over his face. “What … the hell is going on?”

Dr. Vandewater claps her hands, her face unfolding into a giddy smile. “Oh, Clay, look at you.” She rushes over to him. “When I saw you on the monitor screens, I said to myself, Look how much he’s grown. Not a boy now, are you?” She pauses a few feet from him, admiring him. “A man.” She looks to the Sheriff for confirmation. He frowns back, but she just keeps smiling like a rabid coyote. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come.”

Clay mouth drops open, his eyes wide. “You … You’re—”

“Yes,” she says, clasping his hand. “I’m your mother.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Now I understand. Clay has his mother’s eyes.

Clay stares into her face, slowly shaking his head. “But, I—I thought you were dead or gone or … Right?” He lifts his eyes to his father.

The Sheriff shakes his head. “It’s your ma, alright.”