Chapter 2

"I'm sure everything will be okay," Shea reassured me as we walked back from the party. "I can't even tell you how many times I've argued with Gram, and it always turns out alright."

I had tried to enjoy the party, but I spent the whole time wrangling a giant knot of stress in my gut. Mom hadn't called or even texted, which was incredibly uncharacteristic of her. Even when I was at school, she usually texted at least once to check-in.

Had I broken her heart? Sent her into a nervous breakdown? I dreaded going home, and I was grateful that Shea offered to come with me. I really needed that support right now.

"I hope so," I said, kicking a pebble in my path. "My mom and I have never fought like this. I've never even talked back to her before. I know it's a silly thing for a teenager, but she's kinda my best friend—besides you, of course."

"I don't think that's silly at all," Shea said. "I think it's kinda sweet, actually. I wish I could say that about Gram. I mean, I love her, but I wouldn't call us ‘friends'."

We continued walking in silence for a moment, and then Shea added, "I'll stick around as long as you want me to. Or, I can leave right away to give you guys time to talk. Whatever you need."

"Thanks," I said, managing a half-smile.

My house came into view, and the stress knot constricted even tighter. I had no idea what to expect, and part of me hoped that we could just go back to the way things were. I'd rather have a happy relationship with Mom, even if it was shrouded in secrecy.

As we got closer, I realized something was off. The front door was wide open. Mom never left the door open after nightfall. As soon as the sun went down, she would turn the deadbolt. The stress knot flared with a wave of panic, and I picked up the pace, my brisk walk quickly turning into a run.

"What's wrong?" Shea asked, running behind me.

"I hope nothing," I said as we made it to the door.

I scanned every inch of the living room. Nothing in the house was out of place. Everything was just as it had been when I left.

"Mom?" I called out.

No answer.

I bolted across the small living room toward the last place I'd seen Mom—the kitchen.

"Mom?" I called out again, receiving the same empty silence in reply.

"Arya, something about this doesn't feel right," Shea said, hovering in the doorway and looking around. "We should go."

I didn't have time to wonder at the unfamiliar caution of my usually reckless friend.

"I have to find my mom," I insisted, the idea of leaving the house seeming ridiculous.

I stomped into the kitchen and then froze.

Lying on the floor, pale blue eyes open wide and beautiful face fixed in anguish, was my mother.

I dropped to the floor beside her, my hands fluttering and fumbling, eventually finding their way to Mom's unflinching face.

"Mom? Mom!" I yelled, gripping her shoulders and trying to shake her awake.

Mom's body was cold and unresponsive.

Remembering from movies I'd seen, I pressed my index and middle fingers to her neck under her jaw, feeling around for a pulse. But there was no tell-tale thump under her skin.

"Oh no!" Shea gasped as she came into the room behind me.

"Call 9-1-1!" I shrieked, then turned Mom's head the other way to search for a pulse on the other side of her neck.

But as I did, my fingers ran over a series of angry red punctures that looked like a bite mark. A dry bite mark. No blood. With a bite this deep, there should be blood everywhere, shouldn't there?

Panic spiked in my chest as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. Something had bitten her! But what? How could a bite hurt her this badly? Badly enough to… No, she couldn't be dead. She just couldn't!

My head was a din of white noise as I fought the heavy sob that threatened to constrict my chest. But I couldn't cry. Crying would mean admitting defeat, facing the reality that my mom was…

I was vaguely aware of the sound of Shea dialing on her phone as she paced nervously around the kitchen and of the trudge of heavy feet coming in through the front door behind me.

A large hand landed on my shoulder, and I sucked in a breath before spinning my head around.

"You have to come with me," said a man I'd never seen before.

His build was threatening enough. He could have easily been the one who attacked my mom.

I jerked my shoulder away from his hand. "Who are you? Did you hurt my mom?" I accused with a tremulous voice, my mind a clashing storm of sorrow, anger, and paranoia.

"No, but if we don't leave now, the ones who did will get you, too," he said.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I protested, lips twitching between a sneer and a pout. Don't cry, don't cry!

"If you don't, you will die."

The seriousness of his tone shook me, making me doubt myself even further.

"Please, we don't have much time." He held out a large hand. "If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I would have already? I am not your enemy."

I looked up at Shea, who was staring at the stranger with intense eyes, holding her phone to a deaf ear.

"Please," the man urged once more, and I believed the sincerity and desperation in his voice.

Mom was dead. Someone or something had killed her. And I believed this man when he said I was in danger of being next.

I didn't have a lot of options. Stay here and wait for the cops to arrive—and risk whatever fate awaited me if the murderer returned before then—or take a leap of faith and trust this man, who seemed to genuinely want to help me.

Without a word, I reluctantly accepted his outstretched hand. He pulled me to my feet, and together, Shea and I followed him briskly out of the house, my legs jumping ahead of my body as if whatever had attacked my mom was going to jump out at any second.

He charged toward a sleek black sedan parked along the curb and opened the back door. Trepidation rooted my feet to the sidewalk at the thought of getting in this stranger's car, but I couldn't find my voice to object.

"You never said anything about getting into a car," Shea said, voicing my thoughts.

"We have to get off the streets," he said, holding the door open impatiently. "We're too exposed here."

"Then we can go to my house. It's just down the street." Shea pointed in that direction.

"It's too close." The man shook his head. "They will follow Arya's scent there."

"Follow her scent?" Shea asked mockingly. "She's not some rodent at a fox hunt."

He cut a narrowed gaze at Shea. "I'll explain everything, but we have to get to a safe place first." His broad shoulders bristled with urgency. "Please, they may already be on to us."

I stole a hesitant glance at Shea.

"I'm not leaving your side," Shea promised, taking my hand and squeezing it firmly.

We nodded to each other and got in the car. The man closed the door and rushed into the driver's seat, wasting no time starting the engine and speeding down the road.

Now that I had a chance, I took a good look at the man sitting in front of me. He looked to be in his late thirties, with short brown hair and handsome dark stubble framing his rugged face. He had the look of a gladiator, rough and strong, with scars marring the bulges on his arms.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" I hiccupped, now wishing I had just stayed with my mom and waited for the police.

He looked at me in the rearview mirror. "My name is Caesar. I came to invite you to a school for… special people like you. I had no idea you were in any kind of danger. We didn't realize you were a target."

"A target for who?" I asked, trying to remain calm. "Who did that to my mom?"

Tears welled in my eyes, but I knew if I let them break, they would render me useless.

"Vampires," Caesar replied, dead serious.

"Vampires?" I snapped, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"This isn't a joke, Arya," he shot back, radiating authority. "You don't live in the world you think you do. Do you even know what you are?"

I narrowed my eyes. What was he talking about?

Shea gripped the shoulder of his seat and leaned forward. "What is she?"

I turned to her, ready to scold her for joking at a time like this. But she looked like she completely believed every word this guy was saying.

"Arya, have you ever experienced anything strange? Anything you couldn't explain?" Caesar kept his gaze on me in the mirror, ignoring Shea's question.

My mind flipped through screenshots of my life. There was nothing normal about the way I grew up, but nothing to indicate I was something otherworldly, as this man was clearly suggesting.

"No," I answered honestly.

"What about your mother?" he asked.

I shook my head, not yet ready to say anything relating to my mom.

"You've never… been to the beach? Or had anything weird happen to you while swimming?"

I met his steely gaze in the mirror. Why was he asking about swimming? Was there really something to the stupid no-water rule?

"I've never been allowed to swim," I replied reluctantly, leaning on the edge of my seat in anticipation of some explanation at last.

Caesar's brows raised in an understanding that was completely lost to me. What did he know that I didn't?

"So your mom knew, and she tried to keep you from it," he mused with a nod.

"From what?" I asked at the same time as Shea.

Caesar sighed, flicking an irritated look at Shea through the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to me. "Arya, you're a mermaid."

The balloon of excitement that had been growing inside me popped, the sound like a whoopee cushion in my head. I didn't know what I'd been hoping he would tell me, but this certainly wasn't it.

"A mermaid?" I deadpanned, and the fury inside me won out over my fear. "Okay, that's it. Just let me out of the car."

"It's true," he swore.

"First, you say vampires attacked my house, and now you expect me to believe that I'm a mermaid?" I summarized in a mocking tone. "I don't know if you're crazy or just toying with me, but my mom just died! This is sick!"

"Think about it, Arya," he said. "I know you saw that bite mark on your mom's neck. What do you think that could've been from?"

"Not vampires," I practically yelled, throwing up my hands in exasperation. "They don't exist."

"Actually, that's not true," Shea said, her voice low. She couldn't even meet my gaze when I turned to her.

I rolled my eyes. I knew Shea was into weird stuff, but now wasn't the time for her to defend this psycho. I damn sure wasn't buying into this bullshit. My mother's dead body back at home was real, and I needed to do something about it.

"Let me out of the car," I demanded, running my hand over the door panel in search of the lock.

"I can prove it to you," Caesar growled, clearly getting frustrated.

"And how exactly are you going to prove to me that I'm a mermaid?" I asked, all sass.

"Mermaids aren't the only shape-shifters in the world," he said, harshly turning the steering wheel. "There are more species than you can imagine. For centuries, we've been hunted down by vampires, but we finally have a place where we can be safe from them."

He reached back over his seat to hand me a business card. I scowled at it for a moment, then took it only because I was afraid to leave him driving one-handed for too long.

The card read "THE DOME," and under that, "Academy for the Gifted." As I read it, impossibly, the "G" turned into an "Sh" to read "Academy for the Shifted."

I blinked hard several times, but the letters kept changing back and forth. If this was a prank, it was a very well-thought-out one. Beneath the words was an ornate insignia, a crest divided into four sections, each with a different symbol inside: talons, a wing, a spiral, and claw marks.

"Like I said earlier, I came here tonight to invite you to the school," he continued as I inspected the card. "We don't often get stray mermaids, so I knew it would be best for me to deliver the invitation personally. To explain to you who we are and why you should come to the school."

He looked back over his shoulder. "Normally, initiates either grew up in families that are already affiliated with the school, or have begun to exhibit abilities that would make them aware of their status, so that they're eager when we arrive to explain."

"You keep saying ‘we,'" Shea said. "Does that mean you're a shape-shifter too?"

I shot her a look that said Don't be ridiculous, but Shea's focus was solely on Caesar.

"I am," he said with pride.

"Shea, you can't really believe all this," I said.

"Actually, I do," she said, still not meeting my gaze.

"Well, I don't." I shook my head, trying to rein in my frustration and desperation. "And I want no part of this sick game he's playing with us. Please take me home so I can call the cops and find out what really happened to my mom."

"I said I can prove it to you." Suddenly, he pulled the car over onto the side of the road. Then he got out and yanked open my door, waving his hand in an invitation for me to get out.

I didn't hesitate. I didn't know what he was planning to do, but now was my chance to make a run for it.

I scampered out of the car, realizing we were on a long stretch of highway that led to Chicago. There was nothing but green fields around us for miles in either direction. It would be a long run back, if I even made it that far.

Shea hopped out after me, and it was clear that she had no intention of running. Her eyes were trained unblinkingly on Caesar. I stayed close to Shea so that I could grab her arm and drag her away if I had to.

Caesar walked a few feet into the grass and began unbuttoning his black shirt.

"What the?! Why are you stripping?" I shrieked.

"Just wait," Caesar said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

He threw off his shirt and pulled down his pants, and I was now truly terrified of what he might be planning to do.

I grabbed Shea's arm and squeezed, trying to tell her telepathically to escape with me now that his pants were around his ankles. Shea didn't get the message, and the momentum of my sudden tug on Shea's unmoving arm caused me to trip to the ground.

I pushed myself up with my palms in time to see something that just wasn't possible.

Caesar had transformed from a large, muscular man into an even bigger mythical beast. All over, his skin sprouted small brown feathers. His rugged face morphed, his nose and mouth growing and twisting into a huge black beak with a dagger-sharp tip. His hands and feet enlarged to smooth black talons that dug into the grass as he landed on all fours. And out of his broad back emerged the most magnificent pair of brown wings, unfurling and expanding, making the air crack with their power.

Standing before me was a gryphon—a beast of legend. This creature didn't exist, and yet, here it was, not three feet in front of me, looking at me with Caesar's golden-brown eyes.