I BREAK BEFORE MOM DOES. BIG SURPRISE. SHE could outstare a Zen master.

"So, am I grounded? No TV, no phone? What?"

"Don't start with me, Wren. I'm too angry."

I shrug. "Start what? There are consequences, I get that. I just want to know what they are."

Mom comes all the way into the room and shuts the door behind her. It's not quite loud enough for a slam, but since she did it without touching the door, I get the message.

"You really think it's as simple as that? You cut school, I punish you, it's all over?"

I lift my chin and sit up straighter. "Why not? What else is there?"

It's dangerous to provoke her, especially right now, but in my head, so much of this is her fault. Even though in my heart I know that's a lie, I want someone to blame, someone I can shout at, someone who's not me.

"Where were you today, Wren?" She's bristling, her power practically shimmering around her in jagged sparks.

"G.o.d, why do you care?" I fling the words at her as if they'll actually break skin, draw blood. "Because I won't tell you? Because I'm keeping a secret? What about your secrets, Mom? What about all the things you won't tell me?"

It feels good to shout, to open the door and let everything out, the way it did when I realized Gabriel knew what I was.

"That's not the issue here," Mom says, and her voice is too calm, too steady. I can see her holding back, and I hate it. If I'm going to lose it, I want her to lose it, too. More than that, I want her to tell me the truth for once.

"No? Well, I'm not dead and I'm not pregnant and I'm not on drugs, so you've got nothing to worry about, okay?" I fold my arms across my chest and stare up at her. Her eyes flash hot and angry. "You've got your secrets, I've got mine."

"Stop." The room crackles and flares bright with lightning, but it's not lightning, it's her, and I have to hold myself steady to keep from shrinking back against the pillows.

"Why, Mom? Because I'm actually being honest now?" I know Robin must be able to hear us-h.e.l.l, the whole neighborhood can probably hear us-but I don't care about that.

"You don't understand, Wren." The room is still pulsing with the last shudder of her outburst, as if her heartbeat is echoing in the air and the walls. "You don't know anything about it."

"So tell me! Tell us!" I shake my head. She doesn't have any idea how wrong she is. "I can do things, Mom. So can Robin! Did you think we weren't going to notice?"

"Wren," Mom begins in a warning tone, holding up a hand, but I ignore it.

"No!" I'm on my feet now, and practically screaming, but it feels right, the words pouring out with the tears now hot and wet on my face. "Forget it, Mom. I'm done. I'm done pretending, I'm done ignoring the stuff you don't want to explain. This is part of me, part of us, our whole family, and we don't even have that anymore. You don't talk to Aunt Mari and Gram is dead and Dad is gone, and I know it has something to do with ... this." I wave my arms as if taking it all in, and let the energy surging inside me flash out in ripples of soundless vibrations that rattle the windows.

"You don't know anything about that," Mom says, stepping closer, and she's crying too now. "You don't know..."

Whatever it is, she can't bring herself to finish the sentence, and I shake my head.

"Well, I'm asking you to tell me," I say, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. "This is my life, too, Mom! My life, me, and you act like this huge thing is just ... nothing. I'm done. Done."

I s.n.a.t.c.h my backpack off the bed before she can react, and I'm long gone by the time thunder claps overhead and it starts to pour.

There's only one place to go, and Gabriel opens the door to the apartment looking as drained and broken as I feel.

"What's wrong?" I ask right away, but he just stands back so I can see into the living room.

Where Danny is pacing, a pale column of a boy, holding himself stiff as he walks back and forth from the window to the far wall. He's muttering, even though I can't make out what he's saying.

When he turns around, he sees me and his face changes immediately. It's not joy like it used to be, but at least he doesn't look ready to strangle me, either.

"Wren."

I swallow back my nerves and walk into the room as Gabriel shuts the door. I'm so not ready for this, not after what just happened with Mom, but it's not like I have a choice. And I want to know what happened, how he woke up, how Gabriel has kept him calm.

"You were gone," Danny says when I'm within arm's reach, and takes me by the shoulders to pull me against him.

I'd almost forgotten how cold he is after the warm press of Gabriel's mouth.

"I came back," I whisper against the chilly fabric of his T-shirt. It's dirty now, smeared with dust and the broken remains of leaves, and I wonder exactly what happened during that long walk from the loft to his house and then to the park.

"Wren, I was dead." He's whispering, too, as if Gabriel shouldn't hear us, and I venture a glance at him, to make sure he's still in the room.

I don't think anything's ever hurt more than being afraid of Danny. I'm not sure anything ever will.

"I know," I say, and push away just enough to take his hand and lead him to the sofa. "I know."

He sits without protest, but he doesn't let go of my hand, so I wind up beside him, nearly in his lap. He's all bones, pale and hard, but his eyes are gleaming again, too dark.

"I'm... I was dead, Wren. I remember."

"I know. I'm sorry." I wince when his fingers tighten around my hand.

"And now?" He leans closer, and I try not to shiver. "What am I now, Wren? What did you do?"

It sounds so much like Gabriel, the day he figured it out. But worse. So much worse. It's like Danny knows what I did and he can't make himself admit it.

Can't make himself believe that I would bring him back, or give him this awful shadow life.

I lay my hand on his leg. "Danny, it's going to be okay." Wow, there's the biggest lie I've ever told, and it sounds so weak, so ridiculous, even I wouldn't believe it.

"Wren, I remember," he says again, still leaning close. "I ... remembered before, but I didn't know ... all I wanted was you, before."

And now it's not enough. It was never going to be enough, of course, and I don't know why I couldn't understand that when I chanted the words that would bring him back to me.

To me, for me, only me. I was so selfish.

It doesn't seem possible, but I'm crying again, slow tears that roll down my cheeks and splash onto my shirt. "I'm sorry," I whisper, because I don't know what else to say.

Gabriel speaks instead, and even Danny looks up at the sound of his voice.

"But you love Wren, right, Danny? You love her more than anything?"

It sounds cruel, throwing that back at him, but oddly it seems to satisfy Danny. He sits back a little, relaxing, and he nods. "I do. I do love you, Wren."

My voice is broken when I whisper, "I love you, too."

I want to say more, to rea.s.sure him somehow that I'll fix this, but before I can think of anything that's not a complete lie, Gabriel comes a little closer.

"What did you tell me, about the first time you met? That you thought she was weird, but also weirdly pretty?"

My head snaps up in alarm, but Danny is smiling now, and his gaze is focused on something far away.

"She was," he says absently. "She is. Like a little bird, because her hair was like feathers, and then she told me her name and I thought she was kidding."

I remember that, and suddenly the moment is so clear it's like it happened only a second ago. I glance at Gabriel, but he's concentrating on Danny, leaning forward to encourage him to tell more of the story. When he sees me looking, he adds, "Danny's been telling me all about you. How you met and where, the things you used to do together. All the reasons he loves you."

And I get it then-he's been focusing on Danny's best memories, of me anyway, to keep him talking, to keep him calm. To keep him from remembering that he can't go home, can't see his mother or his friends, because he was supposed to be dead and buried months ago.

It's surreal, the two of them, light and dark, tall and taller, two boys who shouldn't have anything to say to each other, sitting in the same room and talking about me. For a moment, I close my eyes and press my fingers into them, hard, until streaky light explodes behind my closed lids. My life cannot get any more insane.

"I love Wren," Danny repeats, but this time he sounds as if he needs to be convinced. He looks at me, dark eyes huge and flat, and then at Gabriel, and his brow pulls up into a frown. "Wren?"

"Did you tell him about the comic strip?" I say quickly.

It's the first thing that comes to mind, and something he loves, but he's not going to be distracted now. He shifts on the sofa, grabbing my hand again, and I wince at the strength of his grip.

"Wren?"

The unspoken question is clear-who is this guy? Danny was never the jealous type, not that he had any reason to be, but this isn't really Danny, not anymore. And the part of the boy I loved that's still in there is confused and betrayed and horrified already.

Gabriel is still, tense, and I can't tell if he's ready to bolt or jump at Danny. I don't want either to happen, so instead I carefully tug at Danny's hand, pulling him to his feet as I stand up.

"Why don't we go in the bedroom and talk alone?" My heart stutters awkwardly in my chest, but only because I'm planning to do all the talking, and I'm already scrambling for the right words.

For a moment, he doesn't move, and his gaze is trained on Gabriel. It's as if he just realized the kid talking to him all this time must have some connection to me, and the expression on his face is beginning to frighten me. "Danny." I concentrate, throwing a little of my power behind the word, and it hums in the silence, a vibrating echo, until he swings his eyes toward me. His face softens, just enough, and I pull him into Gabriel's bedroom while he's cooperative.

It's stupid, but my first thought when I shut the door behind us is that I'm seeing Gabriel's room for the first time without Gabriel. With, in fact, another boy. A boy I still love.

Rooms are important, I think-or maybe I'm just a snoop. But they've always fascinated me, the things you see in someone's bedroom that you might not have expected. The huge poster of a shirtless Taylor Lautner in Darcia's bedroom, for instance. The book on financial freedom for women beside Aunt Mari's bed.

But there's no time to think about the lack of things in Gabriel's room, which is the most startling aspect of it. Instead of a secret teddy bear or, like, appalling boy band CDs, there's almost nothing but his clothes, a dresser, and his bed.

And the bed is where Danny pulls me right away, sitting down abruptly and pulling me after him. I don't try to wrestle away-my power was always stronger when we were touching. I think back then it was just love, sheer happiness bubbling out, the same way my power pushes restlessly at me when I'm angry or upset.

Now, who knows? I'm feeling all of those things anyway.

"Wren, I want-"

I cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips. "Shhh."

He blinks once, waiting, and I gather everything inside me, sweeping it all into my center where I can feel it grow into a deep pulse of power. Sleep, I think, focusing the unspoken word at him. Sleep easy. I'll wake you. Sleep until then. Sleep easy.

I've never done anything like this before, not without speaking aloud, but it seems to work. After a moment, he blinks again, sleepy-eyed now, and his arms begin to relax. In another minute he's slumping, and I catch him before he falls like a mannequin onto the bed.

Once he's down, he doesn't move, even when I slide carefully off the mattress. I know he doesn't feel the cold, that he's not even really asleep, but I can't help myself-I glance around until I find a big bath sheet on the floor that I can gently drape over him before I leave.

Gabriel walks out of the kitchen when I shut the door to his bedroom.

"Okay?"

I nod, even though it's really not.

"You look like you've been awake for about a month," he says, and brushes hair off my forehead.

"I hope you don't say that to all the girls," I say a little weakly, but I manage a smile. He doesn't look much better, and when I glance at the clock it's only six. I have no idea where to go, what to do, and all I can think of is pa.s.sing out for the next week or so, and hoping to wake up and discover it was all a really bad dream.

"I made tea," Gabriel says, and walks back to the kitchen to get a mug. It's still steaming, and I carry it into the living room. It's dark already, and without the lights on the room feels like a hiding place, safe and quiet and private.

I curl up on one end of the couch and balance the mug on my knee, letting the warmth bleed through to my hands. When Gabriel goes to turn on the one lamp, I say, "Don't."

He doesn't question me. Instead, he comes to sit beside me, and looks at me for a minute before he pulls my feet up and starts to unlace my boots. They fall to the floor, two heavy thuds, and then it's silent again.

There's too much to talk about, so we don't talk at all. But I'm grateful to have someone to sit with me in the dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

WAKING UP ON GABRIEL'S SOFA IS STARTING TO feel weirdly familiar, which is something I definitely would not have guessed a week ago. My neck is stiff and my right foot is asleep, but I push into a sitting position as quietly as I can, because Gabriel is still out on the other end of the couch.

And Olivia is sitting on the coffee table, drinking what smells like strong coffee and smiling at me sort of sheepishly. "Hey," she says.

I blink and swallow. The inside of my mouth feels like a sweaty sock, and I'm uncomfortably aware of the way my hair is sticking up in seventeen directions. "Um. Hey."

"There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, if you want." She smiles over her mug and glances at Gabriel. "He'll probably be out for a while still. But there's coffee and breakfast, too. You must be starving."

I am, I realize as my stomach responds with a painful twist. I can't remember the last time I ate anything substantial, and we must have fallen asleep crazy early. The last thing I remember is putting down my mug of tea and letting Gabriel gather me against him so I could tuck my head into his shoulder.

And Olivia must have come home and found us together. My cheeks heat suddenly, but she's already getting up, calling softly over her shoulder, "There are doughnuts in the kitchen. But you'll have to fight me for the last chocolate one."

When it comes to cool, Olivia definitely takes the gold. By the time I finally make my way into the kitchen, my hair sort of tamed and my teeth brushed, she has a huge mug of coffee poured for me and the doughnuts arranged on a plate. I pull out the stool at the breakfast bar and climb onto it, not sure what to say.

She takes care of that, too, though. "So," she says, topping off her coffee before leaning on the counter across from me. "How are you holding up?"

I blow across my mug and shrug. "Not at complete meltdown yet? But pretty close."

"I figured." She takes a deep breath and straightens up. "Gabriel told me most of it, and I sort of filled in the rest. Was he your first?"

I blink at her. "My ... first?"

"Love," she says, and her smile is a little sad. "Danny, I mean."