He really did want her to socialize more, she realized, even if it meant studying. Maybe she had been working too hard. “That would be great.”

“Then I’ll see you around…nine?”

“Perfect. Thanks!”

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too.” Mary Ann disconnected and handed the phone to Aden. She grinned. “Your turn.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m here,” Aden said, gazing around Mary Ann’s house. Dan had actually said yes. Granted, Victoria had gotten on the line and had told him to agree, but still. Aden was here.

He and Victoria walked around the living room; Riley, who’d already been there, remained beside Mary Ann in the entryway. It was spacious, with soft red couches, a blue-and-green rug, and several tables with orange-and-pink marble tops. Tying it all together was multicolored fringe that dangled from the lampshades.

“My mom decorated the place and my dad just didn’t have the heart to change anything after she died,” Mary Ann said, and he could hear the affection she still harbored for the woman.

“I love it.” It had character and warmth. Livability.

One foster family he’d stayed with had had leather furniture and glass tables. A single smudge had sent the wife into a cleaning frenzy. Another foster family had filled their home with only white and beige furnishings, just like every institution he’d ever been committed to, and though they’d never acted as if they minded, he’d been afraid to even step on the carpet. His favorite foster family hadn’t been able to afford anything but mismatched, threadbare stuff and he’d felt most comfortable there.

He would have lived with them forever, if possible, but Eve had transported him back in time and he’d changed the future. When he’d returned to the present, it had been as though he’d never stayed with that wonderful family.

“Riley tried to describe this place to me,” Victoria said, “but I didn’t believe him. Who could have guessed?” She sighed with longing and joined Aden at the unlit fireplace. Her gaze skidded over his neck, then returned and stayed. More and more, as the day had worn on, her focus had been lingering on his pulse. “Our home is very dark. Colorless.” Now her voice was thick, almost slurred.

Was she hungry? Her skin appeared paler than usual, no color in her cheeks. “Where is your home, by the way?” If he had to, he would drag her outside and demand she drink from him. “I know you’re from Romania, but where have you been staying?”

“A large group of us traveled here, so we had to buy the biggest home we could find. It’s far enough away to give us the illusion of privacy, but close enough that we can run into town at a moment’s notice.” Her gaze never lifted from his neck.

He leaned his head to the side, widening the expanse of skin she could see. Her breath hitched. Oh, yes. She was hungry.

“You can drink from me, you know?” From the corner of his eye, he saw a framed photograph on the mantle and lifted it.

“No,” she croaked out.

“You sure?” The photo was of a man, a woman and a little girl. Obviously Mary Ann was the little girl and the adults were her parents. She looked just like her mother. Same dark hair and eyes. Same lean face.

“So, Aden…do you see any ghosts here?” Mary Ann asked hesitantly.

Before he could answer, his companions began chattering frantically.

That man, Eve said on a gasp. I know him.

He is familiar, isn’t he? Julian said.

Aden drew the picture closer. The man had a clean-shaven face, blue eyes, and was a little boyish, like hundreds of people he’d seen over the years. “It’s Mary Ann’s dad,” Aden said, frowning. “We can’t know him.”

Yes, yes, we can, Eve replied excitedly. We’ve seen him before. In person. Remember? Just add a beard and glasses and you’ll—never mind. I’ll take you to him.

No, everyone shouted in his head at once.

“Aden?” Victoria asked. Her hand cupped his shoulder, hot, a brand. “What’s wrong?”

“No, Eve, no!” Aden roared, focused only on one thing: survival. “Please don’t do this to—”

But it was too late. His entire world faded to black. He was falling down…down…spinning and screaming and flailing for an anchor—an anchor that constantly danced out of reach. His stomach churned and sharp pains tore through him, burning, scorching.

His body began to melt, skin pouring away, muscle disintegrating, bone crumbling until he lost his hold on reality, losing himself completely.

“Are you still hearing voices, Aden?”

The question jerked Aden from a long, dark tunnel, slamming him into something solid. A brick wall perhaps. His mind was not as quick to reach the wall as his body, so his awareness was gradual. Where was he?

He blinked, the world coming into focus little by little. He sat in a plush leather chair. All around him were bookshelves overflowing with books. In front of him was a desk cluttered with files and papers. To his left was another leather chair, this one occupied by a man with blue eyes, a beard and glasses.

“What’s going on?” Aden asked, the words garbled. Was he tanked? He didn’t remember drinking.

“We’re in my office, having our session.” The man smiled indulgently. “Have you forgotten already?”

“Office? Session?” He drew in a deep breath, slowly released it. As the air left him, his memory seeped into center stage. He’d been at Mary Ann’s house. Victoria had been looking at his neck with hunger. He’d spied a photo, picked it up. Eve had recognized the man.

I’ll take you to him, she’d said.

Eve.

His molars ground together. Obviously she’d tossed him back in time just as she’d threatened. But to when? Where?

He surveyed himself. Ugh. He wore a plain T-shirt, his scrawny, needle-ridden arms poking out of it. There was a sharp, persistent pain in his side. His pants had holes in the knees.

“Aden, is something wrong?” the man asked him.

“No, no,” he said, because it seemed like the safest answer. He probed his side, wincing. Were those…stitches? “I’m fine.”

“You’re still healing,” was the gentle reply. “And if you want to keep healing, you have to leave the wound alone.”

He forced his hands to settle in his lap.

We’re here, Eve exclaimed happily. You’re eleven. Do you remember this office? The doctor?

Eleven. The year he’d been forked by one of the other patients at the institution where he’d been staying. Dread sprouted wings and flew through him. “The doctor…” he said.

“Yes, Aden?”

His cheeks heated at having been caught talking to himself. The doctor. “Dr….” He couldn’t remember the man’s name. He was youngish, even though he had a beard—which was probably meant to make him look older. Tall, on the lean side.

“It’s Gray.” A patient sigh filled the void between them. “Dr. Gray.”

He stiffened. Dr. Gray. Mary Ann Gray. Mary Ann’s…father? He pulled the photograph to the front of his mind and compared it to the man beside him. Take away the beard and the glasses and the two men were an exact match.

He could have freaked out. He wanted to. But he remained where he was, as if rocks held him down, trying to absorb the shock of what he’d just learned. All those years ago, he’d had a connection to Mary Ann, albeit indirectly, and he hadn’t known.

I tried to tell you we knew her, Eve said.

Well, what d’you know, Caleb said.

“I know who you are,” Aden told the doctor, more emotion than he’d intended in his tone.

Dr. Gray only smiled. “I should hope so, Aden. Now let’s get down to business, shall we?” He propped his elbow on the armrest of his chair and peered over at Aden, expectant.

“I—yes,” he said, though he wanted to shout No! A thousand questions rushed through his mind, but he couldn’t ask them. He had to be careful to appear eleven years old, to answer as he had the first time this meeting had happened.