"What was it about?" "Our history project was about researching our family's origins. We wanted to explore how long our families had been living in this town and trace it back as far as possible," he says, his gaze fixed on my hands. "I already knew about my family because it's impossible not to when you know you'll be shifting by the time you turn fourteen. But what I didn't know was that Azura's, and yours, was just as closely connected." He takes my hand and turns it over, saying, "Azura discovered that while your father's family came from South Carolina, there was a branch of them that settled here on the West Coast at the same time as my family. It was actually the same date. It seemed like they had moved together. Your father's grandfather later moved back to South Carolina-" "Yeah... my dad mentioned that was why he moved out here with my mom," I run my thumb over his wrist. His pulse is steady, and he's telling the truth. "The land my house is on has been in the family for a

"They're not just dreams. You need to talk to Lucien about this," she says. I sigh in frustration and reply, "I have. He told me only a fraction of the truth. It's apparently not his secret to share. But that's what you said too. So who is supposed to tell me?" "Lucien-" "Lucien won't, and I'm getting tired of being led in circles about this. What about Mallory? Can you take me to your Mallory friend? She seems to know all about the same things as my sister was looking into. Dreams. Herbs. The Moon!" "The Moon... No, I can't," she responds, her eyes widening as she shakes her head, "...I can't tell you. Lucien has to." "Really?" I slam my hand against the counter, "I'm tired of this. You all forced your way into my life, and now you can't tell me this!" Something in her eyes flashes as my voice rises and my hand makes contact with the table. She shrinks back, but her eyes glow like Lucien's. They are green and wary, watching me with a warning glare. "Your eyes," I gasp, "They're

His neck feels incredibly smooth as my fingers graze it, triggering a sudden tremor that courses through his body, causing his muscles to tense. With closed eyes, it's as if I'm offering him a soothing massage, bringing him a sense of tranquility. "Stop," he murmurs softly, his eyes fluttering open. We recline in the open fields, bathed in the warmth of the sun. These days are a rarity in our elevated abode, so I relish the opportunity. Leaning down, I plant a gentle kiss on the sensitive spot on his neck, eliciting more shivers. He playfully responds by rolling us over, my fingers tracing a path along his neck. He displays defiance as our lips meet, his fingers trailing down my collarbone and tracing my body's contours. A gasp escapes my lips as his hand ventures beneath my skirt, and his name escapes my lips, met with a growl. The wind picks up, causing goosebumps to form on his skin. As he unzips his pants, I hear my name once more. I glance at Lucien, and he locks his lips with

"These are some peculiar plants you want, Alora," Dorothy remarks as she rings me up at the cash register. "Do you need help getting them in your car?" "No, I think I got them," I say, handing her the money I owe her and pushing the cart to my car. At the end of my shift at the nursery, I decided to purchase some of the herbs Ariella had gathered. Her counsel resonated with me, and I resolved to keep some plants with me rather than continuously foraging for them or purchasing them from stores. As far as I can see, I do not need anything but the plants. Ariella has some tools in her bedroom that I can use. I drop off the plants at home before driving to Skyler's place to pick him up. On our drive to dance practice, he fills me in on the latest school gossip. Apparently, I am no longer a part of it, which is a relief in many respects. Still, I am upset that people have moved on so swiftly from Ariella's death while I continue to feel the effect of her absence. "You never told me that

The GPS instructs me to turn off at Exit Twenty-Six. As I activate my indicator, it adds, "Take a left at the traffic light." My latest investigation into Ariella's background has led me to Bothell, Washington. In her notebook, she describes attending an open mic to listen to a woman named Sashi, a priestess of an alternative religion to whom Ariella seems to be devoted. I am eager at the prospect of finally learning the specifics of Ariella's belief system, as she was notably unclear in her writing about it—the one topic she had not fully addressed. However, Ariella spoke extensively about Sashi Naidoo, who apparently resides in France with her religious order. I realized she is no longer in the United States. Her open mic companion, however, lives nearby, and I had requested a meeting with them. I try not to smile as I drive along the main arterial road leading to the older part of town. I started driving after school last night and drove all night to get to our early meeting. I a