MINE TO POSSESS

Two days after the night that had given her forever, Talin met with the specialists at Shine and they put her through a rigorous series of tests that confirmed Clay’s hunch and Sascha’s diagnosis.

“Your need for the feedback is so small,” Dr. Herriford exclaimed, “it wasn’t picked up on the initial tests we run on every Shine child.” He shoved a hand through his hair, making the bright orange stuff stick up in untidy tufts. “We’re going to have to redo that testing. If you slipped through, so will others.” His distress was open. “We’ll need to start doing periodic checks as students age, too, rather than just the intake scans.”

Talin had every intention of helping reboot the system, but first she wanted solid answers. “So I don’t have to worry about any of the symptoms?” No more fugues, no more having her sense of choice taken from her. Her hand curled around Clay’s, held on tight.

“Everything you’ve told me,” the doc said, glancing at his small electronic notepad, “the fugues, the lost memories, even the mysterious allergic reaction, they’re all symptoms of Process Degeneration.”

“Doc,” Clay said, cutting to the heart of the matter, “is she going to be okay?”

Herriford beamed. “Whatever you’ve done to address the feedback issue—and if you changelings ever decide to share, please let me know—”

Clay growled.

“Right.” The doctor smiled on, undaunted. “I’m happy to say that Ms. McKade is in perfect health. No Forgotten weirdness—you wouldn’t believe the things I see.”

She jumped off the examining table. “Thanks, Dr. Herriford.”

The doctor’s handshake was warm, solid. “By the way, did Dev have a chance to catch you up on everything?”

Talin shook her head. “We got the CliffNotes version. Why?”

“Well, this isn’t common knowledge,” Herriford said, “but Dev told me to be honest with you. You know about the power discrepancy?”

She nodded. “A rare few descendants have a massive amount.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the interesting thing.” The doctor’s eyes were sparkling. “These kids, they’re not being born with a lesser version of Psy abilities, they’re being born with completely new abilities.”

“How is that possible?” She glanced at Clay and suddenly had her answer. “Mixed blood. The genetics are intermingling and creating something new.” Something beautiful.

The doctor nodded. “There were instances of such spontaneous abilities appearing in the PsyNet pre-Silence—our theory is that these changes stopped because the Council has a firm line on eliminating any mutations from the gene pool.”

“But that’s not happening with the Forgotten.”

“No.” The doctor’s smile grew. “What we’re now seeing are the results of a long-term genetic shift. In some cases, it’s as if the Psy genes express themselves by intensifying the bearers’ human strengths.” He gave Clay a pleading look. “Are you sure you can’t find me some changeling—”

“No.”

The doctor sighed. “As I was saying—these new abilities aren’t Psy or human but a mesh of both, perhaps even all three where the individual has changeling blood as well.” Another hopeful—but futile—glance at Clay. “Very, very exciting.”

Talin scowled. “And all I got is this stupid need for feedback.”

The doctor winced. “I sympathize. Technically, I’m twenty percent Psy. But in terms of my physical and mental abilities, I’m one hundred percent human. That’s the good thing about Shine—we don’t discriminate between descendants. Lots of mostly human kids pass through these doors.”

At least that definitively answered Talin’s question of why she’d been chosen. “Good. But I still think I should have superpowers to compensate.” When she’d finally calmed down enough to process everything, her need for biofeedback had made her feel like a vampire or succubus.

She’d gotten all teary about it to Clay … until the idiot male had started laughing so hard he couldn’t talk. He’d bought her a pair of “genuine vampire fangs” that day. She was smiling at the memory when Clay wrapped an arm around her neck. “What are you talking about, Tally? You have special powers.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you have the power to bring me to my knees.”

That made her blush. Then it made her kiss him.


“Isla,” she said that night.

“What?”

“That’s what I want to name our child if it’s a girl.”

A heartbeat of silence. “How about Pinocchio for a boy?”

“No,” she said, scowling but aware the comment was his version of “thank you.” Isla had been broken, but she had loved her son and Clay had loved her back. Talin would honor that. “You don’t get to pick if you’re going to sentence our poor child to a life of humiliation.”

“Brat.”

“Bully,” she said, smiling lips grazing his as he lifted himself over her, his body a protective wall. “How about Fabien?”

“Sissy name. Even I can do better.”

“So?”

“Joshua.”

She smiled. “I like it. Joshua and Isla.”

“How many kids are we having again?”