# Chapter 9: The Hunter's Path

"Wait," Lisa said desperately, "what about my children?"

Eleanor's expression softened slightly. "Give me their names and last known location. If they're still alive, we'll find them."

"Emma and Jack Parker, they were taken from my house this morning around eight AM." Lisa's voice was shaking. "The men said they were being kept somewhere safe, but they'd only be released if I brought Sarah back."

Eleanor was already dialing another number. "Margaret? It's Eleanor. I need an emergency rescue team dispatched to..." She looked at Lisa. "What's your home address?"

As Lisa rattled off her information, I watched the two Collectors struggling against whatever Eleanor had done to them. They were still conscious but clearly in distress, their earlier professional demeanor completely gone.

"Are they going to die?" I asked through the intercom.

"Not unless I want them to," Eleanor replied. "The ward trap is designed to incapacitate, not kill. We need them alive for questioning."

"Sarah?" Lisa's voice was small and scared as she looked around the room. "Are you here? I'm so sorry. I didn't know... they seemed so official, so legitimate."

I wanted to go downstairs and comfort her, but Jake's warnings echoed in my mind. Lisa might be genuinely sorry, but she'd still led Collectors directly to our safe house. Whether she'd done it intentionally or not, she'd put all of us in danger.

"She can hear you," Eleanor told Lisa gently. "But she can't show herself until we're certain you haven't been compromised in other ways."

"Compromised how?"

"Tracked, bugged, or influenced by psychic manipulation." Eleanor was checking something on her phone. "Good news about your children—our team found them locked in a van outside your house. They're scared but unharmed."

Lisa collapsed into one of Eleanor's antique chairs, sobbing with relief. "Thank God. Are they really okay?"

"Physically, yes. Emotionally, they'll need some support to process being kidnapped." Eleanor's voice was compassionate but firm. "Lisa, I need you to understand something. The people who took your children aren't government agents. They're part of a criminal organization that traffics in people with supernatural abilities."

"Supernatural abilities?" Lisa laughed shakily. "This is insane. Sarah teaches high school English."

"Sarah teaches high school English and can move objects with her mind," Eleanor corrected. "She's also being hunted by people who want to harvest her abilities through ritual murder."

I watched Lisa's face go through a series of expressions—disbelief, confusion, and finally a dawning understanding that connected several dots from our shared history.

"The coffee mug," Lisa whispered. "Last week at lunch, you got angry about David's latest text and your coffee mug just... exploded. I thought it was defective, but..."

"But it wasn't," Eleanor confirmed. "Sarah's abilities manifested after the emotional trauma of discovering her husband's infidelity. It's actually quite common for psychokinetic awakening to be triggered by betrayal or loss."

"This is really happening," Lisa said, more to herself than to anyone else. "Magic is real, and my best friend is some kind of witch."

"Not a witch, exactly, but close enough." Eleanor sat across from Lisa, her manner shifting from interrogator to counselor. "The question now is what we do about your situation."

"My situation?"

"You've been exposed to our world, Lisa. You know things that could get you and your children killed if the wrong people find out." Eleanor's voice was gentle but serious. "We can modify your memories, make you forget everything that happened today, send you home to your normal life."

"Or?"

"Or you can choose to know the truth. Accept that your best friend is part of a hidden world of people with supernatural abilities, and commit to helping us protect her and others like her."

Lisa looked directly at the security camera again, as if she could see me watching. "What does Sarah want?"

I thought about everything Lisa had done for me over the years. The late-night phone calls when David was being particularly awful. The way she'd helped me move out of our shared house. The unconditional support she'd offered through my divorce.

I also thought about the way she'd consistently encouraged me to stay with David, to give him more chances, to work harder at making our marriage succeed.

Had that been genuine advice from a friend who believed in working through problems? Or had it been subtle manipulation designed to keep me in a vulnerable situation?

"I want to know if our friendship was real," I said through the intercom.

Lisa's face crumpled. "Oh, Sarah. Of course it was real. Every minute of it. I had no idea about any of this supernatural stuff until this morning when those men showed up at my door with pictures of my kids."

"Then you didn't know about your father's connection to the genealogy research on my family?"

"What genealogy research?" Lisa looked genuinely confused. "Dad works for an insurance investigation firm. He does background checks on fraud cases."

Eleanor and Jake exchanged glances through the intercom system.

"That's... not what our research showed," Jake said carefully.

"What did your research show?"

Eleanor pulled out her laptop and turned it toward Lisa. "According to our sources, your father works for Meridian Security Solutions, which specializes in genealogical research and family tracking for private clients."

Lisa studied the screen, her confusion deepening. "That's his company, but they don't do genealogy. They investigate insurance fraud and worker's compensation claims." She paused. "At least, that's what he's always told me."

"When was the last time you actually visited your father at work?" Jake asked through the intercom.

"I... I don't think I ever have. He always said his office was too boring to visit." Lisa's voice was getting smaller. "Oh God. Was my dad part of this?"

"We don't know yet," Eleanor said honestly. "But we're going to find out."

I made a decision that probably wasn't smart but felt necessary. "I'm coming downstairs."

"Sarah, no," Jake's voice was sharp with alarm.

"She risked her children's lives to try to save me," I said firmly. "The least I can do is look her in the eye when I decide whether to trust her."

I opened the panic room door and walked downstairs, my heart pounding with each step. By the time I reached the living room, Jake was positioned protectively between me and Lisa, his hand resting on his weapon.

"Hey, Lis," I said softly.

Lisa looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, taking in my appearance—the tension in my posture, the way I stayed close to Jake, the obvious changes in my demeanor.

"You look different," she said.

"I feel different."

"Are you really... can you really move things with your mind?"

Instead of answering with words, I focused on the pen lying on Eleanor's desk. It rose into the air and floated gently across the room to land in Lisa's outstretched palm.

Lisa stared at the pen like it was a snake. "This is really happening."

"This is really happening."

"Are you safe? I mean, are these people really trying to help you?"

I looked at Jake, standing ready to throw himself between me and any threat. At Eleanor, who had opened her home and risked her own safety to protect me. At the two Collectors, still incapacitated by magical defenses I was only beginning to understand.

"I think so," I said. "But Lisa, I need to know—was any part of our friendship designed to keep tabs on me? Did your father ever ask you to report back about things in my life?"

Lisa's face went through several expressions before settling on a look of dawning horror. "He did ask about you sometimes. About how you were doing, whether you were happy with David, if you'd ever mentioned wanting to trace your birth family." She looked up at me with stricken eyes. "I thought he was just being nice, taking an interest in my friends."

"How often did he ask?"

"Every few months, usually when I visited for dinner. He'd ask about work and the kids, and then he'd ask about you." Lisa's voice was barely a whisper. "Sarah, I swear I had no idea. I thought he liked you."

"He probably did like me," I said. "That doesn't mean he wasn't reporting to people who didn't have my best interests at heart."

Eleanor's phone buzzed with what sounded like a priority alert. She glanced at it and immediately stood. "We have a problem. Our team found Lisa's children, but there were three other vehicles leaving the area as they arrived. It looks like the kidnapping was just a distraction."

"Distraction from what?" Jake demanded.

"From the team they sent to your apartment, Sarah. They've been there for the past hour, and they just left with several boxes of your personal belongings."

My heart sank. "What kind of personal belongings?"

"The kind that can be used for tracking spells, identity magic, or psychic location rituals." Eleanor's expression was grim. "Clothing, jewelry, anything with your DNA or psychic imprint."

"So they can find me anywhere now?"

"Not anywhere. The wards here will still protect you. But if you leave this property, they'll be able to track you across any distance."

I looked around the room—at Lisa, still clutching the pen I'd moved with my mind; at the two unconscious Collectors who represented a larger organization hunting me; at Jake and Eleanor, who had risked everything to keep me safe.

"So what do we do now?"

Eleanor's smile was sharp and entirely lacking in warmth. "Now, we stop running and start hunting. If they want to play games with personal belongings and tracking magic, let's give them something to track."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Sarah Mitchell, it's time for you to disappear completely." Eleanor began gathering crystals from around the room. "And time for someone much more dangerous to take her place."

I looked at Jake, who was watching Eleanor's preparations with something that looked like anticipation mixed with dread.

"What is she talking about?" I asked.

Jake's answering smile was the most frightening thing I'd seen since this whole nightmare began.

"She's talking about awakening the other side of your abilities," he said. "The side that your ancestors used to hunt things that went bump in the night."

"I thought I was the one being hunted."

"You were," Eleanor said, spreading what looked like a detailed map across her coffee table. "But every predator becomes prey eventually. Time to find out which one you really are."

As I stared at the map, marked with locations across the country where other people like me had disappeared, I realized that my quiet life as Sarah Mitchell the English teacher was truly over.

The question was: who would I become instead?