“Yaya.” I held a hand out to her, and she took it. “You told me to make the right choice; what did you mean by that?”

She bowed her head. “It’s a long story. And I wasn’t at liberty to tell you. Though now there is no choice.”

Her words were cryptic and strange, and they made me nervous.

From the hallway a soft groan rolled through the air along with the sound of bare feet slapping the tile floor.

“Mom, stop letting the Mormon missionaries in. They’re very nice, but we aren’t changing religions no matter how many times you pinch their bottoms.”

I stood up, unable to stop myself. My mom, Beatrice to her friends, stepped into the room, yawning. Her pink fluffy robe she’d had for years was tied around her waist. She had the same dark-brown hair and brown eyes that I’d had before I’d been turned, and though she’d always been shorter than me, the difference was marked now.

“Hi, Mom,” I said.

Her eyes popped wide, and she clutched at the throat of her robe. “Alena?”

Tad stood up. “Hi, Mom.”

She wobbled where she stood, tears welling up in her eyes. “My babies.”

I didn’t care what the Firsts thought about me. I was me, and she was my mom, and she recognized me and that was all that mattered. I ran to her, wanting nothing more than to grab her in a hug. Tad was right behind me and snagged my arm before I could reach her, snapping me to a stop.

“Don’t. Look at her eyes, Lena. She’s afraid of us. The church will punish her for being near us, for even touching us and acknowledging we’re still alive. You know that as well as anyone.”

We were maybe three feet away from her, close enough that I could see the horror in her eyes, the tears on her cheeks. I froze where I was. “Mom. We aren’t sick.”

Tad tugged me back. “It’s not that, Lena.” I knew he was right. It wasn’t the possibility of the virus that scared her.

It was what we were.

Super Dupers. Supernaturals.

Monsters.

Yaya came up beside me and slipped an arm around my waist. The warmth of her arm centered me, and I felt a tiny pulse of strength flow from her to me. Knowing she stood by us was enough to keep me there, facing my mother even when I knew what was coming.

“Beatrice. You hug your daughter right now.” Yaya shook a finger at her daughter. “I raised you better than this.”

That was just it. Mom had turned to the church for guidance even over her own mother’s teaching. The church had become the place where her every question was answered.

Mom didn’t move; she stood as still as if she’d been turned into a statue. “I can’t. She isn’t . . . Tad isn’t . . . They aren’t themselves. They’re monsters, not my beautiful babies. My children are dead. They brought it on themselves, sinning. This is their punishment.” Her mouth moved with two words I didn’t think we were supposed to hear. “And mine.”

How was this her punishment? That made no sense.

I stepped back, a final cold wash of understanding flowing over me like ice water poured on top of my head. This was what she believed: that we were some sort of demons now. I’d known it; it was what I’d believed most of my life. What I’d believed when I’d looked Merlin in the eye and told him to turn me in order to live.

“You would choose the church over us. I get it. We’re lost to you. I just thought you should know we aren’t dead. That we’re still here.” I turned, surprised I wasn’t sobbing my heart out.

Because I think maybe I’d known all along this was a futile trip. That Mom would turn from us, and even with that, I’d needed to be sure we were outcast. I’d needed to see it for myself in order to put the past, and what was left of my family, behind me. “Come on, Tad. Let’s go.”

“What about Dad?”

A bitter, harsh laugh I didn’t recognize escaped me. “You think he’ll be any different? You think she’ll let him?”

As if speaking about him had summoned him, our father, Clark, strolled down the hall in nothing but his pajama bottoms. Lean like Tad, he had green eyes and darker hair. Tad and I resembled him more than our mother now.

He lurched to a stop behind Mom, his jaw dropping open. “Alena. Tad.” He made a move to step around Mom and she put an arm out, stopping him despite the size difference between them. He looked at her, then us.

“Bea. You can’t be serious.”

“The church doesn’t allow interaction with supernaturals. You know that. They could kick us out.”

His green eyes met mine and he smiled. “Unless you’ve put cameras in the house, they won’t know.” He pushed her arm down gently and walked toward us.

He caught Tad in a hug first, thumping him on his back while I stood there in shock. “Good job. I didn’t think you’d be able to convince her.”

“Almost didn’t.” Tad grinned at him, and then Dad came to me. He pulled me into his arms and held me without the back thumping. “I’m glad you came home, Lena Bean. We . . . I hoped you would take the cure.”

I jerked back. “The money was from you?”

Mom gasped.

Dad half shrugged. “Life is life. Even if I couldn’t see you, I wanted to know you’d had a choice. That I’d done what I could to make things better and given you the freedom to live a life outside of what—”

“Clark, when the priests find out they’re going to kick not only you, but me out too! We’ll go to hell!” Mom grabbed his arm, seeming to forget that it brought her closer to both Tad and me.