# Chapter 6: Blood and Betrayal

"This is insane," I whispered. "Two days ago, the most complicated thing in my life was deciding whether to keep David's last name or go back to my maiden name."

"What was your maiden name?" Jake asked.

"Mitchell was David's name. My birth name was Sarah Elizabeth Crane, but the Fosters who adopted me changed it to Sarah Foster, and then I took David's name when we married." I laughed bitterly. "I've had so many names, I sometimes forget which one is really mine."

Jake's expression became very still. "Did you say Crane?"

"Yes. Why?"

Instead of answering, Jake reopened his laptop and began typing frantically. His face grew paler with each passing moment.

"Jake? What is it?"

"Sarah Elizabeth Crane." He turned the screen toward me, and I saw what looked like a family tree with my name highlighted at the bottom. "Do you know what the Crane bloodline is?"

"I have no idea. I was adopted as a baby, remember?"

"The Crane family is one of the seven founding bloodlines of supernatural ability in North America. They're not just carriers—they're originals. Primary sources." Jake's voice was tight with something that might have been fear. "Sarah, you're not just someone with psychokinetic potential. You're descended from one of the most powerful supernatural families in history."

The family tree on the screen showed names and dates going back centuries, with notations about various abilities and accomplishments. At the very top was a woman named Elizabeth Crane, dated 1692, with the notation "Primary Source - Salem."

"Salem? As in the witch trials?"

"As in one of the witches who actually was what they accused her of being." Jake scrolled through the genealogy. "Elizabeth Crane was documented as having abilities that included telekinesis, precognition, and energy manipulation. She escaped the trials and founded a bloodline that's been carefully tracked ever since."

"Tracked by who?"

"Everyone. The Guardians, the Collectors, government agencies, academic researchers. The Crane bloodline produces approximately one major talent per generation, and they're usually among the most powerful psychics in the world."

I stared at the family tree, trying to process what Jake was telling me. "Are you saying I'm some kind of supernatural royalty?"

"I'm saying you're much more valuable than we thought, which makes you much more dangerous to protect." Jake closed the laptop and began gathering his equipment. "We need to move. Now."

"Why? What's changed?"

"If word gets out that a Crane descendant has awakened, every supernatural faction in the country will be hunting you. The Collectors will want to harvest your abilities, the government will want to study you, and the other founding families will want to either recruit or eliminate you depending on their current alliances."

Jake was shoving weapons and electronics into his bag with practiced efficiency. "Sarah, pack your things. We're leaving in five minutes."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere more secure. This motel is fine for hiding from local Collectors, but if major players get involved, we need serious protection."

I was stuffing clothes into my overnight bag when a new thought occurred to me. "Jake? How did you know to ask about my maiden name?"

He paused in his packing. "What do you mean?"

"You specifically asked about my maiden name right after I mentioned Lisa. That wasn't random, was it?"

Jake's silence was answer enough.

"You already knew," I said slowly. "You knew who I was before you took this case."

"Sarah—"

"How long have you known I was a Crane descendant?"

Jake straightened, meeting my eyes with an expression of resignation. "Since the day Rebecca Stone first contacted the Guardians about you."

The betrayal hit me like a physical blow. "So everything you've told me about discovering my abilities, about not interfering until I awakened—that was all lies?"

"Not lies. Partial truths." Jake took a step toward me, and I backed away. "I was assigned to your case specifically because of your bloodline, but I still couldn't make contact until your abilities manifested. Those are Guardian rules."

"What else haven't you told me?"

Jake was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.

"Rebecca Stone isn't just a psychic who happened to find you. She's your biological mother."

The room spun around me. I sat down hard on the bed, my bag falling from nerveless fingers.

"That's impossible. My mother died when I was a baby."

"Your adoptive parents died when you were three. Your biological mother gave you up for adoption to protect you from people who would have used you to get to her." Jake sat on the opposite bed, careful to keep distance between us. "Rebecca Stone is Elizabeth Crane's great-great-granddaughter, which makes her one of the most powerful psychics alive. She's also been hunting the Collectors for twenty years."

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"Because the moment you know who she is, your emotional connection to her becomes a weapon that can be used against both of you." Jake's voice was gentle but firm. "Psychic abilities are strongest between blood relatives. If the Collectors capture Rebecca, they can use her to track you across any distance. If they capture you, they can use you to control her."

I thought about the woman in the coffee shop, the way she'd known intimate details about my life, the familiarity I'd felt despite never meeting her before.

"That's why she stayed away," I whispered. "To protect me."

"And to protect the mission. Rebecca has been systematically hunting down and eliminating Collectors for two decades. She's saved dozens of people like you, but she's also made powerful enemies." Jake leaned forward, his green eyes intense. "Sarah, your mother isn't just a Guardian. She's the most wanted person in the supernatural underground."

"Which means being her daughter makes me an even bigger target."

"Yes."

I looked around the dingy motel room that had been my sanctuary, understanding now why Jake had been so paranoid about security, so careful about who we trusted.

"Is there anyone in my life who's actually what they seem?" I asked.

Jake was quiet for a moment. "Me," he said finally. "Everything I've told you about my motivations, about wanting to protect you—that's real."

"But you've also lied to me about almost everything else."

"I've withheld information to keep you safe. There's a difference."

"Is there?" I stood and walked to the window, peering through the blinds at the parking lot. "How do I know you're not part of some elaborate trap? How do I know the Guardians aren't just another faction trying to use me?"

"Because if we wanted to use you, we would have approached you years ago when you were more vulnerable and easier to manipulate." Jake's voice carried absolute conviction. "The Guardians protect people with abilities from those who would exploit them. Sometimes that means making hard choices about what information to share and when."

A black SUV was pulling into the motel parking lot. Jake noticed my attention shift and joined me at the window.

"That's not good," he said grimly.

The SUV parked three spaces down from our rooms. Two men in dark suits got out, moving with the kind of coordinated precision that screamed professional training.

"Guardians?" I asked hopefully.

"Wrong kind of suits." Jake was already grabbing our bags. "Collectors dress like government agents. Guardians dress like college professors or librarians."

"What do we do?"

"We run. Now."

Jake threw me my bag and headed for the back window, which opened onto a narrow alley behind the motel. He had the screen off and was climbing through before I'd even processed what was happening.

A loud knock echoed from my door. "Sarah Mitchell? We're with federal immigration services. We need to speak with you about your adoption records."

"Definitely Collectors," Jake whispered as I climbed through the window. "Immigration services doesn't investigate private adoptions."

We crept through the alley behind the building, staying low and moving toward where Jake had parked his car on a side street. I could hear the men at my door growing more insistent, and it was only a matter of time before they decided to break it down.

"There," Jake whispered, pointing to his black sedan parked under a broken streetlight.

We were halfway to the car when I heard the motel room door splinter open.

"They're in the wind," came a voice from behind us. "Check the back exit."

Jake cursed under his breath and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a sprint toward the car. Behind us, I could hear running footsteps and shouted commands.

We reached the sedan just as flashlight beams swept across the alley. Jake had the engine started and the car moving before I'd even closed my door.

"Where are we going?" I gasped, looking back to see the two men emerging from the alley.

"Safe house," Jake said grimly, taking a hard right that threw me against the passenger door. "One that's warded against tracking and surveillance."

"How did they find us so fast?"

Jake's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "I don't know. But someone told them where we were."

The implication hit me like ice water. Someone we'd trusted had betrayed us.

And if Jake was right about the prophecy, this was only the beginning.