Burning Emerald by Jaime Reed Page A

of making me feel small and delicate by proximity alone.
    â€œI’m the same ol’ Sam, Daddy. It’s just a newer version of me—Samara 2.0. I’m seeing the big world out there, and I like what I see for the most part. I’m still your baby girl. No matter what, that fact won’t change.”
    â€œI know.” He leaned in, planted a warm kiss on my forehead, and in a slick move that almost made me proud, slipped the brochure under my blanket.
    An hour later, Mia dropped off my classwork with an extra helping of tension that was bigger than her handbag.
    â€œSo you gonna tell me what the hell is going on, or do I log this in the ‘things Sam won’t talk about’ shelf?” she began. “I’ve seen some weird things in my life, but Halloween night was off the chain.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to talk about. Had some bad reaction to some food,” I explained with a mouth full of lime Jell-O.
    She didn’t buy it for a second. “I’ve taken three years of biology and not once have I ever read about foreign bacteria that make your face start glowing like a radioactive mutant. If so, why was no one else at the party affected but you and Caleb? Come on, Sam. It’s me . Talk to me,” she pleaded.
    Though each syllable cut at my insides, the lies rolled off my tongue like Polish. This skill would come in handy once I started law school, so it was good to start early. Her parting glare as she left the room told me I needed more practice.
    For the rest of the day, I replayed Halloween night over and over in my head, wondering what Caleb had eaten that could have been tampered with. I remembered the bottles of water Courtney had been chucking at Caleb, but could oil mix with water without him noticing? At my request, Mom rechecked my clothes and found nothing. We were about to give up when I recalled the hot cocoa I’d drank that night. I’d set down my mug at the bar while chasing after some stranger around the party. Anyone could have gotten a hold of it.
    I cupped my head in my hands and cried. For years, Mom had warned me of situations like that, to never leave my drink unattended. The one time my guard dropped, I became the newest cautionary tale. But Caleb had gotten caught in the cross fire, more collateral damage, another life in danger because of me.
    Guilt and damnation rode me hard that night, granting only minutes of sleep before another round of abuse. But I swore I would find out who’d done this, even if it killed me.
    Â 
    The middle child of the Ross dynasty signed the visitors’ guestbook the next morning. Michael Ross was the emaciated version of Caleb with a long, brown braid that reached his waist. I would never get used to these body doubles running around. It conflicted with the “Holding It Together” campaign I had going. But each had their distinct style and endearing quirks.
    Though I was unsure of his preferred poison, Michael carried a perpetually drunken sway and could never sit in one spot for very long. He also had his paranoid moments, looking over his shoulder and answering questions only he could hear. Oh yeah, there were some screws loose, but he was always aware of the things around him.
    Of the three times I’d been in Michael’s company, I’d never seen him stone sober, just in fluctuating degrees of blitzed. Today was no different.
    â€œIt keeps the voices quiet,” he’d told me once after his dad’s funeral. “I can hear the lives I take, and not all of them are pleasant. It becomes harder to sort out which memories are mine.”
    Everyone coped differently with the Cambion lifestyle, I guess. None of the brothers confronted him about his self-medication and I thought I’d better do the same.
    On sight, this walking skeleton drew me in for a hug that almost hurt. I could feel his ribs under his baggy trench coat, and his red-rimmed eyes avoided mine. He