Everything stopped. The music cut. Corey’s voice landed like a hand closing around a bolt. “Positions.”
The room emptied along practiced lines. Byron was already at the front hall, pulling the shot gun from behind the clock tower handing it to Corey. Lucy was with him, heart tapping but not racing.
Patrick flicked the feed live on the mantle as Ethan and Damian slid to their window posts. “South fence,” Patrick said. “One figure.”
They stepped onto the front path. The wards were visible if you’d been taught how to look: faint strands, pulsing slowly, stretched from tree to tree like harp strings in fog.
The figure walked slowly towards the house.
“Don’t come closer,” Byron called. “State your name.”
“Michael,” he said. “I think I'm meant to be here.”
Byron glanced at Lucy. She met his eyes and gave a small nod. Not trust. A calculated yes. “Come closer” lucy said, as he did the wordsconnect, connectstarted thrumming, “he's one of us” she turned to Byron.
“Step inside,” Byron said.
Michael quickly walked pass nodding. Mandy reset the wards before closing the front door behind her. “Please come through here” Lucy guided Michael to the room they were once havingfun in. “ I'm sorry” lucy said, before intrusive thought took over she grabbed Michael and in his defence he was caught off guard, Lucy was uncontrollable, Connect she shouted, once again her eyes flared up, the threads of energy weaving between them before Michael could ask what was happening, his head flipped back, and she absorbed his ability. When they released, Michael fell to the floor, he scrambled to the corner “what was that” Lucy gently bent down, that was me learning your ability. Care to explain what it is?” Lucy was being quite abrupt to him, and she could sense an energy, a vibe that wasn't right and it was hard for her to disconnect from that emotion.
“My ability is one that mimics,” Michael said calmly. “I can become you… or anyone else in the room.”
As he spoke, his features shifted. Bone and skin restructured as if sculpted by invisible hands. Within seconds, Lucy was staring back at herself. Her posture. Her eyes. Even the faint scar near her brow. Then he shifted again this time Byron stood where Michael had been, shoulders broad, jaw tight then slowly he returned to his own form.
“Interesting,” Lucy replied, offering a small, measured smile. “That could come in handy.”
But beneath that smile, something darker stirred.
There was an energy around him. A frequency that scratched at her senses. It was subtle, but her instincts did not whisper; they pressed. Something in her chest tightened, urging her to test him, to push him, to break through whatever he was hiding. For a fleeting second, she imagined grabbing him by the throat and forcing the truth out of him.
The thought unsettled her.
This was the battle no one else could see the constant negotiation between power and restraint. Since her awakening, her senses had sharpened beyond comfort. She could feel deception before it was spoken. She could taste fear in the air. And when something felt off, her first instinct was no longer curiosity.
It was dominance.
She did not want to hurt him, but her body reacted as if it needed to. As if eliminating the threat was the simplest solution.
So, she did the only thing that gave her control.
She withdrew.
“Mary, can you get Michael something to eat?” she said, her tone clipped, almost cold. “Mandy, catch him up on everything.” She mind linked;not everything!Mandy nodded
Her eyes lingered on Michael for a second too long, searching for something she could not yet name.
“I’m exhausted. I need to sleep.”
Sleep was not escape. It was containment.
If she stayed, she was not sure what she might do.
Lucy lay down and closed her eyes. Sleep took her without negotiation.
As she drifted to sleep, she entered a field which was bright, wide and impossible. Lucy knew immediately this was a dream. A woman stood in the distance, waiting.
Lucy walked towards her.
“Hi,” the woman said when Lucy was near enough.
