Once I was settled in the chair across from her desk, Ms. Cho didn’t bother with small talk.

  “Testing has revealed that you have a unique gift,” she said.

  No preamble, no “how is Latin going,” just straight into the weird.

  “My…gift,” I repeated. “Like the Satyr?kin charm thing?”

  She folded her hands. “Occasionally,” she said, “when a Kindred has parents from two different lines, they do not simply ‘take after’ one or the other. Usually they do. Very rarely, however, something else happens. A new expression emerges.”

  I gripped the chair arms tighter. “New expression,” I said. “That sounds…safe.”

  One corner of her mouth twitched. “We are calling your gift Bright Life,” she said. “You have an unusually strong life force. It manifests as enhanced endurance, resistance to toxins, and accelerated healing.”

  My brain did a quick, panicked inventory. All the running, then climbing the fence without getting winded. The way the Wraith’s claws had already started to scab by the end of the day.

  “Oh,” I said weakly.

  “The natural resistance to compulsion is a holdover from your father’s line,” she went on. “But rather than developing his primary ability, you expressed Bright Life which, as I said, is unique to you. Cross?line ancestry is necessary.”

  “Cross?line,” I said. “As in…?”

  “Two different legacies,” she said. “Two different Others, one from each parent.” She paused, then clarified, probably because I was still staring like an error message. “In almost all cases the child presents one line or the other. Very rarely they interact and create something new. It is not inheritable.” A shadow crossed her face. “Unfortunately.”

  I stared at her. A protest clawed its way up.

  “But my mother is human,” I blurted. “She’s not—she can’t—”

  Cho’s sigh was soft, but it felt like it had been waiting a long time.

  “I have been looking into your father,” she said. “His name matches one in our records.” She paused, and for the first time since I’d met her, she looked…hesitant. “I am very sorry, Diana.”

  The room tilted a notch.

  “Finley Sinclair,” she said, “was killed in battle ten years ago.”

  Something cracked in my chest.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “He…he didn’t leave us?” The whisper escaped before I could swallow it.

  “No,” she said simply. “He did not.”

  The floor felt unsteady under my feet, even though I was sitting down.

  “Prior to that,” Cho continued, “he was married. His first wife was Banshee?kin. She died a year and a half after having their daughter.”

  The word Banshee?kin hung in the air like a bell tone.

  “Your father remarried,” she said. “Linda. Your mother.”

  My world went sideways. The seams showed. Linda at the kitchen table with her grocery-store coffee and yard?sale mugs. Linda smoothing my hair back when I was sick. Linda’s signature on every permission slip.

  Mother. Not mother.

  Satyr?kin father. Banshee?kin first wife. Bright Life.

  I sat there, gripping the edges of the chair, while everything I thought I knew about where I came from rearranged itself into something I didn’t recognize at all.

  As I walked out of the office, I plastered a smile over my face—too wide, too bright—and returned to the lunchroom, to my friends, like nothing at all had changed.

  When I got back to the table, everyone wanted to know what the meeting was about.

  Forks paused halfway to mouths. Conversations hiccuped. A dozen sets of eyes landed on me.

  I gave them the safe bits.

  “Cho did more testing,” I said, picking at the crust of my slice. “Turns out I have a…thing. A gift. She’s calling it Bright Life.”

  That got their attention.

  “Bright Life?” Maya echoed. “That’s…dramatic.”

  “What does it do?” Luis asked, leaning in.

  I rolled my eyes a little, trying to make it sound less like I was describing a superhero trading card. “Apparently I’ve got an overpowered life bar,” I said. “Extra stamina, bounce back fast from getting knocked around, harder to poison. Rapid healing. That sort of thing.”

  “Explains the Wraith,” Jamal said. “You were back on your feet way too fast for a normal human.”

  The twins made identical impressed faces.

  “That’s so cool,” Sera said. “Do you know how many people would kill for bonus endurance?”

  “Please don’t say ‘kill,’” I muttered, but I couldn’t help the tiny flicker of pride. It was…kind of cool. In a terrifying, my?body?is?weird way.

  To them, it slotted neatly into the grid. Naga?kin speed, Cáo?kin strength, Satyr?kin charm, Banshee-kin danger sense…Bright Life. Cool. Exciting. But normal. Another branch on the Kindred family tree.

  They didn’t know my history. Didn’t know about Linda. Didn’t know I’d had another life before this one, too early for me to remember.

  So to them, nothing about it sounded…wrong.

  And if Sketch heard about my power later? That would be okay too. He’d think “Diana has freaky good stamina now,” not “Diana’s carrying two legacy lines and a dead father I never met.” He didn’t know where it came from. How it needed two different Others braided together.

  He didn’t know, and for now, that felt like the only part of this I had any control over.

  The knowledge Cho had gifted me felt like a bomb with a loose pin.

  If I moved too fast—boom.

  If I turned it the wrong way—boom.

  I couldn’t tell Sketch. I couldn’t even picture saying it to…Mom.

  Linda.

  She hadn’t told me. She’d let me live a lie. No wonder she always held back, kept that tiny bit of distance no amount of lemon cleaner could scrub away.

  She knew. She had to know. She knew I wasn’t really hers. I was a package deal that came with my father. Then he died and she was stuck with the parcel.

  Stuck with me.

  The thought was too big, too sharp. I couldn’t face it, so I shoved it down, hard, and pretended the conversation had never happened.