I can’t look at my art supplies. They feel important again. Necessary—like I can’t find Quinn without them.

And I have to find Quinn if I want answers.

But I can’t take them. There’s just no room.

And now I have to decide: Phoenix or Camden?

Quinn told me to meet him in Camden, but Reese seemed to think there was something important in Phoenix. Something to do with me. But … Phoenix is a big city. I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve never been there before.

I sigh. Somehow I always wind up forced to trust Quinn. Quinn who never stays, who never answers questions.

Who makes my heart leap and my blood warm.

Camden it is.

“I’m ready to go,” I say to Benson, and I hate that my voice wavers. I feel weak, confused. I can create things out of nothing—I should feel strong and in charge.

But I don’t.

“Tavia, we …” Benson pauses and licks his lips nervously. “We should get out of the house,” he finishes, though I know that’s not what he was going to say.

We walk out into the hallway and Elizabeth yells, “I think they’ve found you, Tave. You’re not safe out there. The Reduciata will get you—they want you more than any of our other Earthbounds. They—”

“Earthbound,” I whisper, not hearing the rest of Elizabeth’s sentence. I’ve heard the word before—in Elizabeth’s phone conversation with Reese. But it’s something more. A word that echoes in whispers in my head. Earthbound … Earthbound …

Benson is tugging lightly on my hand. “We have to go.”

“Please,” Elizabeth adds in a softer voice—but one I’m obviously meant to hear, “you don’t know how to use your powers well enough to truly protect yourself.”

I gasp and whirl around to face her. She knows.

A phrase rises into my mouth and spills off my tongue before I can stop it. “Sum Terrobligatus; declarare fidem.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grow so wide I can see the whites all around them.

But she says nothing.

Anger boils inside me and I stoop to pick up the gun she dropped and turn it around on her. “Declarare fidem!” My hand shakes—a hand that doesn’t feel like mine. What are these words? What am I doing? I choke back a sob as everything I thought I knew about myself blows away.

I’m a monster.

“Curatoria,” she gasps.

“What did you just say?” Benson whispers.

“I have no clue,” I whisper back.

And I don’t. But I should! I’m sure I should! The same way I ought to know the meaning of all the words Elizabeth just said. Pushing those thoughts away, I cock the pistol, letting the eerie click fill the office. “You want me to trust you; why were you pointing a gun at me?”

“Because I didn’t know how much you knew about your powers,” Elizabeth answers instantly, her neck craned awkwardly to look up at me. “How much control you had.”

I don’t like it, but what can I do? I might have been dangerous. I probably could have killed her. I wonder if she kept that gun in her office too—if she got nervous every time I walked into her waiting room.

Her empty waiting room.

It’s always empty.

I am such an idiot.

Why is it that I always see everything after it’s too late?

The waiting room has been empty every single time I have ever come in to see her—except, occasionally, for Secretary Barbie. Every. Time. Even when I drop by unannounced. I guess I figured no one ever stuck around because, seriously, who wants to be caught in a shrink’s office?

But I should have seen it sooner.

“I want answers!” I say fervently. “And if you lie, you will never see me again.”

To my surprise, Elizabeth smiles. Not a mocking, cruel smile, but a gentle, relieved one. I don’t get it and for a moment it knocks me off-kilter.

But I dig my toes into the ground for better balance—an old yoga trick. “I won’t,” Elizabeth says, holding statue still—probably not an easy task.

I swallow a lump in my throat. I can’t start feeling guilty now.

“Do you have any patients other than me?” Begin with one I’ve already figured out.

“Not at the moment.”

I rock back a little on my heels, utterly shocked at her honesty. “Are you really a doctor?”

“A psychiatrist? Yes.” She laughs lightly, then grimaces as her body shifts. “Trust me, med school was no walk in the park.”

“Then why are you working for Reese? And don’t even try to deny it,” I warn. “I heard you two talking on the phone yesterday.”

“Perfect. Just perfect,” she grumbles, then turns her attention to me. “I’m not denying that I work with Reese,” she says carefully, “but in the spirit of complete truth here, I don’t work for her. We work for the Curatoria.”

The unfamiliar word again. I ignore it—pretend I know exactly what it means. “Why the charade?”

“To give you a chance to heal before—”

The front door bursts open, cutting off her words. “Don’t shoot!” Jay yells. “Tavia, please, you don’t want to do this!”

My borrowed gun swings to Jay, then back to Elizabeth. I can feel Benson behind me, silently willing me to be cautious, but there are two of them now and I don’t know who’s the bigger threat.