MINE TO POSSESS

“They didn’t spend much time on it. Just street trash, you know.”


Tamsyn’s eyes were suddenly pure leopard, a reminder that under that warm human skin lay the heart of a predator. “I’d like to get my claws on anyone who describes these children as street trash.”

“So would I.” She flexed her fingers. “I might not have claws, but I can use a knife.”

Tamsyn’s eyes flashed to human in a heartbeat. “You sound very sure.”

“One of my adoptive brothers—Tanner—he taught me to use knives when I developed and he thought men were looking at me funny.”

“Brothers.” The single word held a wealth of affection.

Talin had never really considered how much that act of Tanner’s had meant to her, but now she smiled. “Do you have any?”

“No need. I had the whole damn pack watching over me.” She put the photos down, then stood. “I need to think.” To Talin’s surprise, she went to the counter and began pulling out ingredients for some type of baking. “I think better this way,” she said, noticing Talin’s expression. “The whole Earth Mother routine works for me.”

Though it was said in a self-deprecating tone, it was clear Tammy was deeply content with who she was. Talin ached for that kind of peace, that kind of self-acceptance. “I like cooking, too,” she found herself saying, when she didn’t usually share anything. “I used to do it with my adoptive father.”

“Do you want to help?” Tamsyn’s eyes brightened. “I’d love a cooking buddy. And if you do the cookies, I can finish up a batch of muffins. I figure Kit and Cory deserve something extra.”

Talin hesitated. “I have to work on why these particular children might have been targeted.”

“You can do that as well on your feet, stirring”—she brought a bar of dark chocolate to her nose, breathed in the scent—“or chopping chocolate.”

“You fight dirty.” Pushing back her chair, Talin walked over. Yes, she could think about the kids even as she did this. It was not thinking about the kids that was the problem. They were ghosts in her mind day and night, whispering at her, pleading with her.

We’ll get the bastards, she promised them, subconsciously including Clay in her vow. And we’ll come for you, Johnny D. Just hold on a little while longer.





CHAPTER 18


Jonquil could hear the sounds of their shoes in the corridor. His hearing had always been good. Better than good. It had saved his life more than once, helped him avoid getting the crap kicked out of him even more times. But today, he knew danger approached and he had nowhere to run.

You have every right to be proud. Stand up straight.

Talin’s voice was a whip in his head. She’d said that to him the day he’d been nominated for some dumb city medal. All he’d done was pull a scared little kid out of a building going up in flames. The small burns he’d sustained hadn’t even hurt much. But they had wanted to give him an award. He’d been planning to sneak out of the whole deal—like his posse would care that he had a medal—but then Talin had come along, bullied him into a stupid-ass suit, and brushed his hair.

That was when she had told him to stop slouching and be proud. Damn if he hadn’t walked onto that stage and taken that worthless bit of tin from the frickin’ mayor. Stupid. Except that he’d never thrown the medal away, hiding it in his stash of important stuff. He hoped his stash was still where he’d left it when he got out of this hellhole. And he would get out—he had to apologize to Talin.

The footsteps were getting closer. Closer. They stopped in front of his door.

Fear coated the back of his throat, but he pushed himself upright, back straight, head held high. They could hurt him, but he wouldn’t let them break him.

The door slid open to reveal two figures. For a second, before his eyes adjusted to the light, he thought they were painted white. Then he separated out the elements that made up the whole. Their hands were gloved, their faces covered with white surgical masks, and they wore white scrubs like he’d seen at a clinic once.

The only points of color came from their skin, eyes, and hair. The tall one on the left had dark skin, sort of like the color of really thick toffee, the kind that made your teeth stick together. It was all sort of glowing and rich and would have been pretty if he hadn’t known that she was there to hurt him. Her eyes were a freaky, pale bluish gray—like a wolf’s, he thought—her hair so dark brown it was almost black. He decided to name her Blue.