Chapter 2: The Rude Awakening

I spent the rest of the day trying to convince myself that Rebecca Stone was just a crazy woman who'd done some internet stalking. People found out personal information about strangers all the time. The prophecy was probably something she'd printed off some fantasy website.

Except I couldn't stop thinking about the electricity I'd felt in my pulse. Or the way my classroom projector had sparked and died while I was angry about David's latest text. Or how I'd found my apartment door unlocked when I came home, even though I distinctly remembered locking it.

By evening, I was jumpy and exhausted. I ordered Chinese takeout and settled on my couch with a glass of wine, determined to grade papers and forget about mystical prophecies.

That's when someone knocked on my door.

Three sharp raps, followed by silence. I wasn't expecting anyone, and my few friends knew to text first.

"Who is it?" I called through the door.

"Jake Sullivan. Rebecca Stone sent me."

My heart rate spiked immediately. The man from the prophecy—the rude one who was supposed to protect me from whatever danger I was supposedly in.

I looked through the peephole and saw a tall man with dark hair, wearing a leather jacket and the most annoyed expression I'd ever seen. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

"Can you prove you know Rebecca?" I asked through the door.

"She said you'd be suspicious. Smart woman. She also said to tell you the cabinet door in your bathroom won't stay closed, and your phone's been glitching since Tuesday."

My blood ran cold. I hadn't told anyone about those things.

I opened the door but left the chain lock engaged. "What do you want?"

Jake Sullivan looked me up and down with obvious disdain. "You're smaller than I expected. And younger. This is going to be a nightmare."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing personal, lady, but I usually work with people who have some idea what they're dealing with. You look like you've never been in a real fight in your life."

I bristled. "I haven't needed to fight anyone. I'm a teacher."

"Yeah, well, you're about to get a crash course in violence." He gestured impatiently at the door. "Can I come in, or are we going to discuss your impending doom through a chain lock?"

"Impending doom?" I unhooked the chain and stepped back, immediately regretting it. Jake Sullivan was intimidating up close—at least six-two, with sharp green eyes and an attitude that screamed trouble.

He walked into my apartment like he owned it, scanning everything with practiced efficiency. "Nice place. Terrible security, though. Your locks wouldn't stop a determined teenager, let alone the kind of people who are looking for you."

"What people? And why should I trust anything you say? You could be some psychopath who—"

Jake turned to face me, and his expression was deadly serious. "Because three women with your bloodline have died in the past month. All of them were found with their throats cut and symbols carved into their skin. All of them thought they were safe in their locked apartments."

The air left my lungs. "You're lying."

"Am I?" He pulled out his phone and showed me a series of newspaper articles. "Jessica Roberts, age thirty-one, found dead in Portland. Marie Williams, twenty-seven, found dead in Seattle. Lisa Davidson, thirty-four, found dead in San Francisco. All adopted. All discovered unusual abilities right before they died."

My legs felt weak. I sank onto my couch, staring at the photos of three women who could have been my sisters. Dark blonde hair, brown eyes, similar bone structure.

"Who's killing them?"

"People who want to harvest what's in your blood." Jake pocketed his phone and continued his security assessment. "Your bloodline carries a genetic marker that allows for psychokinetic abilities. Most carriers never develop them, but trauma can trigger an awakening. Divorce, death of a loved one, betrayal—emotional shock opens pathways that usually stay dormant."

"This is insane. You're telling me I have superpowers?"

"I'm telling you that you have abilities some people will kill for." He tested my window locks, frowning at what he found. "Rebecca said you've been having manifestations. Moving objects, electronic interference, heightened intuition."

I thought about the cabinet door, the sparking projector, the way I'd known David was cheating before I actually caught him. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean—"

"Try moving something," Jake interrupted. "Focus on that coffee mug on your counter. Don't touch it, just concentrate on sliding it to the left."

"I can't just—"

"Do it, Sarah."

Something in his tone made me comply. I stared at the white ceramic mug and imagined it sliding across the counter. Nothing happened for several seconds, and then suddenly it jerked to the left so violently it fell off the counter and shattered on the floor.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

"Yeah, you're definitely activated." Jake didn't seem impressed. "Sloppy control, but strong natural ability. Rebecca was right to call me."

"Who are you, exactly? Some kind of supernatural bodyguard?"

"Private investigator specializing in paranormal cases. I track things that go bump in the night and protect people from them." He moved to my front door and examined the frame. "Usually for a lot more money than Rebecca's paying me."

"Then why take this case?"

Jake paused in his inspection and looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. "Let's just say I have personal reasons for wanting to stop the people who are hunting you."

Before I could ask what that meant, my phone rang. David's name appeared on the screen.

"Don't answer it," Jake said immediately.

"It's just my ex-husband—"

"The one mentioned in the prophecy? The first love who returns with sweet lies?" Jake's voice was sharp. "Don't you think it's a little convenient that he's suddenly desperate to reconcile right after your abilities manifested?"

The phone stopped ringing, then immediately started again.

"He's been calling all week," I said. "Ever since I signed the divorce papers."

"Divorce papers you signed the same night Rebecca found you." Jake's eyes narrowed. "Has he ever shown interest in genealogy? Family history? Asked unusual questions about your adoption?"

My stomach dropped. "He did a whole family tree project last year. Said he wanted to surprise me for our anniversary. He researched my birth family, said he wanted to help me find them."

"Son of a bitch." Jake ran a hand through his hair. "Sarah, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Your ex-husband isn't trying to win you back because he misses you. He's trying to win you back because someone told him what you are."

"That's impossible. David doesn't believe in anything supernatural. He thinks horoscopes are stupid."

"Maybe. Or maybe he's a better actor than you gave him credit for." Jake pulled out a business card. "This is the number for a secure hotel. Pack a bag with essentials only. We're leaving in ten minutes."

"I'm not going anywhere with you! I don't even know you!"

"You know enough." Jake's voice was grim. "Those three dead women? They all ignored warnings. They all thought they were safe. They all trusted the wrong people."

He moved to my window and peered through the blinds. "Sarah, there's a dark sedan parked across the street with two men inside. It wasn't there when I arrived."

My blood turned to ice. I joined him at the window and saw the car he meant—expensive, tinted windows, and definitely out of place in my working-class neighborhood.

"Could be anyone," I said weakly.

"Could be. But are you willing to bet your life on it?" Jake turned away from the window. "Pack your bag. Now."

This time, I didn't argue.

As I threw clothes and toiletries into my overnight bag, my hands shook so badly I could barely zip it closed. Twenty-four hours ago, my biggest problem was grading papers and avoiding David's phone calls. Now I was apparently fleeing for my life from people who wanted to harvest my supernatural blood.

"Ready?" Jake asked.

I looked around my small apartment—the first place that had ever been truly mine. "What if you're wrong? What if this is all some elaborate scam?"

"Then you waste one night in a hotel and go back to your normal life tomorrow." Jake's expression softened slightly. "But Sarah, if I'm right and we don't leave now, you might not live to see tomorrow."

I grabbed my purse and followed him toward the door.

"One more thing," Jake said as he turned off my lights. "From now on, don't trust anyone completely. Not your friends, not your family, and especially not your ex-husband. The prophecy was clear about betrayal, and it's usually the people closest to us who hurt us most."

As we slipped out my back door into the darkness, I couldn't help but wonder if that warning included him.