Talking to June made her feel normal.

She told her about Victor, and Mitch. About her sister, about the day they drowned, the way they came back, her slowly, and Serena all at once. She told her about Serena’s powers, and about Eli.

“Is he like us?” asked June.

“No,” growled Sydney. She took a deep breath. “I mean, he’s an EO.

But he’s not like us. He thinks we’re wrong. That we shouldn’t exist. So he started killing us. He killed dozens of people before Victor stopped him.” Sydney’s voice sank until it was barely a whisper. “My sister . . .

she and Eli . . .”

But it wasn’t all Serena’s fault.

Her sister had been lost for a really long time when Eli found her.

Sydney had been lost too, but Victor had been the one to find her.

It wasn’t Serena’s fault that Sydney got the hunter and she got the wolf.

“I know what happened to Serena,” said June.

Sydney stiffened in her seat. “What?”

A sigh. “In order to take someone’s face,” said June, “I have to touch them. And when I do, I see things. Not every-thing—no room in my head for that much useless memory—just the bits that make them who they are, the ones that matter most. Loves, hates, important moments.

Mitch—I touched his arm that day in the park, right before you and I met—and I saw him standing before a fire. There was a girl’s body in the flames. But all I felt was his regret.”

Sydney closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “Mitch didn’t kill Serena,”

she said. “Victor did.”

“Why would he do that?” asked June.

Sydney let out a shuddering breath. “My sister could control people.

She had this hold on them. Could make them do anything she wanted, just by saying the words. She was strong, powerful. But . . . she was like Eli. She thought people like us were lost. Broken.”

“Maybe she was right,” said June.

“How can you—” started Sydney.

“Hear me out,” pressed June. “Maybe we are broken. But we put ourselves back together. We survived. That’s what makes us so powerful. And as for family—well, blood is always family, but family doesn’t always have to be blood.”

Sydney felt hollow, worn out. “What about you?” she asked. “Do you have a family?”

There was a long pause. “No,” said June softly. “Not anymore.”

“What happened to them? Did they die?”

“No,” said June. “But I did.” A long pause. “You see, they wouldn’t recognize me.”

“But you were you first. Can’t you just . . . change back?”

“It’s complicated. What I can do,” she said slowly, “makes me invincible. But only as long as I’m someone else.” June hesitated. “I buried someone. So did my family. There wasn’t a grave, but I’m still gone. And it needs to stay that way. When I came back, I decided that no one would ever hurt me again. I gave up everything—every one—in exchange for that.”