This . . . us . . . suddenly, it just didn't matter as much. And maybe he was going through the same thing.

I almost couldn't speak. When I found my voice it was like rusted metal, crumbling and dry. "I'm sorry."

His brow crumpled. "For what?" he finally managed in the softest tone known to man. A heartbroken sort of sound. "Because you forgot to tell me how in love I am with you? Or for shooting your best friend?"

My shrug was microscopic. "For everything."

He waited, thinking it over. "Me too."

And then he left me standing there.

TYLER.

GRIFFIN RAISED ONE EYEBROW. IT WAS THE SAME buck-up-soldier look I'd seen her use a thousand times before. "You okay? I'm happy to knock some sense into her, if you don't have the heart." Her tone though was gentler than when she was really giving a get-your-s.h.i.t-together speech, which meant I must really look bad.

I laughed, or the best I could manage. "I'm fine." I glanced over to where Kyra was still absorbing our conversation. I wasn't sure what I felt.

Bad for not absolving her, sure. But after what Truman had said, about Kyra being responsible for that bloodbath at the asylum . . .

It was a lot to take in.

If what he said was true, then Kyra had a.s.sa.s.sinated those people, one of whom was supposedly her best friend. Shot them point-blank.

Maybe I didn't know Kyra as well as I thought I did. I definitely didn't know how I felt about that.

And maybe that was the problem.

I'd stood in front of her telling myself she was a virtual stranger, this girl who could kill in cold blood, and yet, still, I'd wanted her.

I'd wanted to grab her and kiss her and tell her I was the one who was sorry.

How messed up was that?

Super messed up.

Griffin leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. "It's a standing offer. Let me know if you change your mind." Griffin was a soldier-I knew she'd killed. Griffin never hid that fact. She was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of girl. So why was I holding Kyra to a different standard? Why couldn't I forget what I'd seen at the asylum?

Because Griffin wasn't the one I couldn't keep my eyes off of. Griffin wasn't the one I couldn't stop thinking about.

I wasn't in love with Griffin.

"Thanks, Griff, I'll keep that in my back pocket."

"No you won't," she baited, knowing exactly where my heart was.

I shook my head. "Nope. I won't."

The door opened and Dr. Clarke and Agent Truman-Griffin's crazy ex-scientist-turned-Daylighter dad-came charging in. Griffin's demeanor shifted from relaxed to tense in the blink of an eye.

"What about you?" I asked. "You okay? I'd offer to knock some sense into him, but I'm pretty sure your old man could beat my a.s.s."

She sighed, and let her arms fall to her sides. "Wouldn't do any good anyway. He is smart, but never did have much sense."

She kept her eyes on him as he moved to the center of the room, Dr. Clarke coming to stand directly behind him. Without even trying, the two of them filled all the s.p.a.ce and demanded our attention. "All right, kiddos," Agent Truman said, clapping his hands decisively as if he were issuing an edict. "Playtime is over. Let's get down to business."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Days Remaining: Nine THE CONFERENCE ROOM WHERE DR. CLARKE gathered us was sleek, all gla.s.s and metal and shiny surfaces. She never touched a light switch, but the lights went down as if she'd mentally commanded it. And almost on cue, there was a gasp from one of the lab-coated professionals. As if they'd never seen glow-in-the-dark eyes before.

I wanted to reprimand them, something along the lines of, Grow up already! Instead, I sank lower in my chair, hating being singled out already.

Behind Dr. Clarke a screen flashed to life, reminding me vaguely of one of those Smart Boards from school. Of course, there were a few minor differences between the technologies here at the ISA and what my old high school was using. First, Dr. Griffin queued up the image of an actual-authentic-not-animated alien-Adam. The second was that she only needed her fingertips, which she flipped and waved through thin air, to navigate the representation. Third, and also the most impressive, there was nothing two-dimensional about what we were looking at. The image wasn't only up there, on the screen, like the boards at school. We were staring at some sort of hologram.

So cool.

"How much do you actually know?" Dr. Clarke began. "About how we first came in contact with them-the M'alue?"

"You mean the First Contact meetings?" I asked, referring to the first secret government meeting with the aliens, the one President Eisenhower allegedly attended back in the '50s.

I shot a quick glance at Jett, who hated this particular part of our history. He was rubbing the place on his arm-a place that had healed decades ago-where he'd been tortured by our own government to find out whether he was a Returned or not.

My stomach tensed for a different reason. I couldn't stop thinking about the things Tyler had told me, about how that map he'd drawn had led them here, straight to this underground facility. The whole thing bugged me, considering the messages I'd heard: The Returned Must Die.

All with what I had to a.s.sume were only nine days remaining.

It wasn't-it couldn't be-a coincidence we'd found Adam here. Had we-the Returned and the Replaced-somehow been corralled here? Had we made the most enormous-gigantic-monstrous mistake of our lives by following Tyler's map?

I tried to stay focused on what Dr. Clarke was talking about.

She looked pleased not to have to launch into a detailed explanation of the First Contact Meetings. "So you're up to speed already? Good. It makes things easier. I'm sure you realize then, that, for a time the agreement between us and them was peaceful."

"Peaceful?" I interrupted, sounding more than a little skeptical considering where we were standing right now. "Do you mean the part where they were kidnapping kids and experimenting on them, while the government turned a blind eye?" I crossed my arms. "We may have different definitions of peaceful."

"Agent Truman has informed me of . . . of what you all are. So I can see why you might not understand the situation." She glanced around at us. Other than my dad, everyone in our group had been taken and returned. "The matter was complex, Kyra. There was more to it than a simple pact. What you might not realize is that it wasn't exactly a negotiation."

Griffin shot her a black look. "Are you saying they would have taken us whether there was an agreement in place or not? I have a hard time believing the president would have just accepted that."

"And what would he have done about it? What would anyone have done about it?" she asked. "Do you know how incredible it is that they found us at all? Of all the planets, in all the solar systems, in all the galaxies, and they just happened to track us down? It's the universal version of a needle in a haystack. If their goal had been to destroy us, then they could and would have. But clearly they had other plans for us. The M'alue are explorers. Scientists in their own right." She made it sound like they impressed her. That she revered rather than feared them. Shrugging, she added, "Cooperating was our best option."

"So what was the point?" I asked. "If you know so much about them? What was their reason for coming here in the first place? Why were they doing this to us?"

Dr. Clarke looked around-not at us, but at her team. "Clear the room."

She didn't say who was supposed to go, and who should stay, but they seemed to know. Only about five of her people remained by the time the evacuation was complete.

Beneath the table, I settled my hands on my knees to stop them from bouncing. This was it. We were finally going to get some answers.

"When they came here, they were dying. That is to say, a large segment of their population was sick, and they were looking for a cure. They thought we might have . . . that we might be the answer they were searching for. Genetics isn't my specialty." She nodded to Agent Truman. "Dr. Arlo Bennett here could probably do a better job explaining the science of this, but I'll give it a shot." The hologram of Adam vanished and was replaced by a large, rotating double helix. "This is our DNA," she explained. "Ours is remarkably similar to that of the M'alue considering how different our species and environments are." She used her fingers to indicate she wanted to ply the strands apart, and the double helix exploded, sending fragments flying into virtual oblivion. All that remained was a single coiled, X-shaped piece. "What it really comes down to is this. They needed one imperceptible, but crucial, chromosome from our genome."

Jett's fingertips drummed on the tabletop. "Why not just ask for it? Couldn't they just get a sample rather than go through all the trouble of abducting us? Experimenting on us?"

Dr. Clarke's lips pursed. "It was more complicated than that. You might have noticed that you age slower now. Well, there's a reason for that. Human DNA is subject to something called the Hayflick limit. Basically, it means that there's a limit to the number of times a human cell can divide before those cells start to ultimately die. Our natural life span." She shrugged. "And ours is significantly shorter than the M'alue. In order for our chromosome-the one they potentially needed-to be useful to them, they first had to make the life spans match, and the only way to do that was to get their specimens"-she raised her eyebrows as her gaze swept meaningfully over us, letting us know in no uncertain terms that we were the specimens in question-"to live as long as they do before extracting the test samples. Increasing the life spans had other side effects as well-the advanced healing, the slower metabolisms, the need for less sleep."

"You seem to know a lot about us. How come we've never heard of you?" Griffin challenged.

"We've tried to be discreet," Dr. Clarke replied. "But we're not entirely unknown. The government knows we exist, and as long as we don't interfere"-she smiled smugly-"they don't bother us too much-although, sometimes it's a matter of what they don't know won't hurt them. All in all, we do our best to stay off their radar."

Tilting my head, I asked, "So did it work? Did they get what they needed from us?"

Dr. Clarke frowned. "We don't know. Not exactly." She closed her fist and the images vanished, the screen behind her going dark. "There was a breakdown in communication-if you could call it that in the first place-between us and the M'alue. Cooperation ended abruptly, and we no longer know where they are in their experiments." Her lips flattened into a thin line. "I had a chance to meet privately with Ben after his group arrived yesterday, and today with Agent Truman, and I think I'm up to speed on your reasons for coming. I know about the maps and the message. It's not good." She paused. "Hopefully, we can help each other out of this . . . situation."

Jett glanced around the table, and I realized not everyone had all the pieces. "What exactly is our situation?"

Agent Truman arched one brow at me. "Go ahead."

"What haven't you told us?" Griffin prodded.

"I can't say for sure, but I think they're coming. And I think we only have nine days until they get here," I said.

"How can you be sure?" my dad asked.

"I can't. I mean, that's the thing. Every morning when I wake up, I get this . . ." I turned to Tyler, thinking maybe he'd know what I was saying. He was the only one who'd witnessed what I'd gone through, while we'd been on the run. Plus, how did I even start to describe this? "Pains. Like intense, stabbing pains." My voice was wobbly. "At first I thought it was nothing . . ." I shrugged. "Just part of this whole Returned/Replaced thing. Over time it got worse, and then while Natty was holding me hostage, one of them mentioned I was some sort of countdown. I started to realize what I was feeling was them . . . getting closer. Somehow I can sense them."

"The same way you felt Adam," Tyler said.

I nodded. "Yeah, like that. It's like I'm tracking them. I mean, I could do without the stabbing part, but . . . yeah, like that."

Jett-as our resident numbers guy-was the first to ask, "So where'd the nine days come from?"

"Same place Tyler's maps came from, I guess."

"So, thin air," Simon said snidely to Tyler.

Tyler shrugged. "If that's what helps you sleep at night."

Simon rolled his eyes. "I wish."

"We've gotten a bit off track," Dr. Clarke interrupted. "The real question is, what do they want?" When no one answered, Dr. Clarke continued. "Have you ever heard the term extinction level event?"

"Do you mean like the dodo bird?" I asked, wondering where she was going with this.

"I mean," she stressed, "that the Earth has already survived five ma.s.s extinction events, including one that wiped out ninety-six percent of all life on this planet."

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond to that.

Dr. Clarke straightened the hem of her jacket and fixed her gaze on each of us, one at a time like she was weighing our skills. "This is our chance to play a part in stopping the next one."

"How do you figure?" Willow asked.

"We need to find a way to prevent them from coming. To prevent them from exterminating us. And, apparently, we have nine days to figure out how to do that."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Days Remaining: Seven TWO DAYS HAD Pa.s.sED AND WE WERE NO CLOSER to figuring out what the M'alue's message meant, or what they wanted from us, than we'd been when we'd first taken the underground plunge into the ISA for help. I also still hadn't figured out where Tyler and I stood. I knew he was avoiding me-using his new ability to sense me to vacate any room before I arrived, or to wait until I was gone to enter. It was frustrating and awkward, because everyone knew what was happening.

And whenever we were forced into the same room, I could feel his eyes on me. It was the same thing my dad had done, that watching-me thing, like I was too blind to notice.

With no news in the two days since Dr. Clarke had given us her "We need to stop them from exterminating us" speech, we'd all started to go a little stir-crazy.

We'd been given limited access to the underground facility, the parts that weren't cla.s.sified. Griffin and Willow had started making several trips to the gym each day, and then again to the large indoor track, just to burn off steam. I'd gone with them once, but they were hard core. Working out, for the two of them, was something that rivaled the Olympics, each of them jockeying to be the fastest runner, to lift the most weight, to do the most pull-ups, push-ups, chin-ups, or sit-ups. Pushing and challenging the other until I realized I'd gone invisible.

One trip had definitely been enough.

I'd tried on several occasions to convince Dr. Clarke to let me see Adam again, but she'd denied me every time, not even bothering with excuses, just telling me his lab was restricted. I argued we'd seen him once already, and she just repeated that it was a "restricted" area.

I even tried convincing the security guards to give me a tour of the upper floors, hoping to catch another glimpse of the M'alue in his body-sized test tube. It was weird the way I was consumed by thoughts of him, and if Tyler and I had been on better terms I would have asked him if he felt the same. But we weren't.

Then there were the tests. Strange ones.

It had started that first day, just before dawn, when Dr. Clarke had come to me and asked if I wouldn't mind being monitored while the sun came up. If my dad had known what they were planning he would have objected, which was why I didn't tell him.

Normally, I'd never want someone watching while I squirmed in agony. It would be like letting someone watch me pee. Superweird.

But with the fate of the world in jeopardy, who was I to deny such a simple request? What if they discovered something that might help, even in some small way?