Chapter One

Isobel Gilbert sat on her bed, looking around the extra-large girls' sleeping quarters of the group home. She wasn't sure why the facility wasn't packed to capacity, like so many of the other group homes she'd been placed in over the course of the last ten years that she'd spent bouncing around the foster care system.

It was by far the best of the homes. Yes, it had its flaws, but she didn't fear closing her eyes at night. And she didn't have to push chairs against door handles, hoping to wedge them closed so she could sleep without worrying about who might enter.

This one had wallpaper with small pink roses that ran in long stripes. It wasn't even close to her taste, but it was far better than a number of the foster homes she'd been in, which had peeling paper, water stains, and mice and bugs in the walls.

She could more than live with pink compared to that.

The beds were twin size with dark wood head and footboards. The bedding was stark white. The beds lined both sides of the long, rectangular room. Between each was a matching wooden bedside table with three drawers. Isobel's table held all she had to her name in the world.

It wasn't much.

Enough to fit in a trash bag between each home.

She'd learned early in her life to avoid becoming attached to anything. That being said, there were two items she'd taken a liking to over the course of her months at the group home for teens. Two things that meant the world to her.

One was a small painting a friend did in art class. It sat propped on the bedside table, near a glass of water, against a tiny reading lamp. The other item that meant something to her was on her wrist. It was the only thing of value she had, even though the actual value was probably laughable.

The day of her birthday—or rather, the day that had been assigned as her birthday, since the actual date was something of a mystery—she'd woken to find a silver charm bracelet on her bedside table. A small red bow had adorned it. No note had been attached.

The charms were each vampire-themed in nature, meaning whoever had left it knew her well. She'd had an odd fascination with anything and everything vampire all her life. It was one of her many quirks.

She brought her arm to her chest, touching the charms, one by one. Her fingers skimmed the cross charm as the door to the room opened.

Dr. Chapman stood there, gripping the handle, his dark gaze sweeping over the room. If he'd knocked, Isobel had missed it. She'd been forced to speak with countless counselors and therapists over the years, mostly because her attitude was considered less than stellar. Most of them annoyed her with their nonstop attempts to get her to open up about her feelings. Isobel wasn't even big on sharing her feelings with her best friends, let alone with some random adult.

Dr. Chapman was different. He was the on-staff therapist and also taught health class. He didn't push for her to share. He just let her discuss whatever she felt like talking about.

Isobel had never before been in a children's home that also provided an in-house education. Another perk, in her opinion of the place. She hated attending public schools. She was always an outsider.

Always the new girl.

The freak.

Dr. Chapman looked in at them all, his focus coming to her, as he remained in the doorway. He zeroed in on the charm bracelet she was fondling and swallowed hard. "Ladies, it's past lights-out time."

"Sorry," said Daisy Charny from her bed, two down from Isobel's. "We're done."

Nodding, he began to retreat, only to pause and glance back at Isobel. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled the door closed behind him as he left.

Liberty Mansfield laughed. Her bed was next to Isobel's. "Glad we were all dressed. That would have been awkward."

"He gives me the willies," said Daisy.

"Everyone gives you the willies," said Liberty.

Daisy laughed. "Fact."

Isobel continued to hold her charm bracelet to her chest, unsure how she felt about the man. He'd been nice to her since her arrival. She met with him once a week for a private therapy session. Most of the time she discussed mythology or folklore, or something of the like. The topic was never anything important. That worked for her.

"Gotta pee!" Daisy darted past the end of Isobel's bed as she ran toward the bathroom. Her blonde hair bounced as she did. She was in white pajamas and was barefoot.

The bathroom was at the far end of the room. It contained a number of shower and toilet stalls. Again, it was much nicer than those of any of the other places Isobel had been. The whole place looked to be a remodeled school of some sort.

She didn't ask.

She'd been calling the facility home for months now and hated to admit that it actually felt like a real home. The most real she'd known to date. Being attached to it, and those within it, scared her.

Two of the residents, Daisy and Liberty, felt more like sisters than merely friends. Finding them had felt as if she was reconnecting with family. Their time there, at that home, was some of the first good memories Isobel had. Finally, she was around others like her—teens who were more than met the eye and who could do extraordinary things.

Things they'd worked so hard to keep hidden from others for fear of what would happen. They hadn't shouted it from the rooftops when they realized others were like them. They'd quietly formed a sisterhood. Friendships so tight, so real, and so true that nothing could or would ever come between them.

Isobel had thought she'd died and gone to misfit kid heaven. So did Liberty. They'd basically been on cloud nine for months. Daisy wasn't totally onboard with the home, often mentioning how off the place felt to her.

Sure, the home wasn't perfect, but nowhere was.

It seemed safe enough to Isobel, especially with what she was hiding from the rest of the world. Her dark secret was being able to start fires with her mind. Liberty could move things with hers. And Daisy's intuition was the sort of thing that was featured in comic books. It was off the charts. Often Daisy's dreams came true as well, which was kind of freaky, but not as much as being able to light something on fire with a thought.

What Isobel and Liberty could do was downright deadly. Daisy's ability was just unnerving.

For the first time in her life, Isobel finally felt like she wasn't a monster. And she could finally show another what she could do without fear of repercussion, she could confess the nightmares she'd had for as long as she could recall.

Dreams filled with what looked like scenes from a science-fiction movie. One where scientists had gone mad and were keeping small children in cages and locked rooms, experimenting on them, forcing them to be more than they were born to be.

To be something other than human.

Liberty and Daisy had shared their dreams as well. Ones they too had been having for as far back as they could remember. There were far too many similarities to be overlooked or dismissed. It became very clear, very fast, that they'd been held at the same location.

Isobel even had memories that were identical to Daisy's. Ones that had them huddled together, hugging one another, worried for a friend who was missing as huge men dressed like soldiers took them to safety, to freedom.

Daisy exited the bathroom, smiling as she did. "Remind me to drink less water at dinner tomorrow."

Isobel grinned, still holding her arm to her chest, still touching the charms.

Daisy paused on her way back to her bed. She stared at Isobel. "You good?"

"I am, worrywart," replied Isobel.

Daisy nodded and raced to her bed, jumping on it, and then climbing under the covers fast.

Isobel took that moment to do the world's longest, most impressive burp. At least she was pretty sure it set a record. Maybe not. But still, it was impressive.

A pillow came from the right, hitting Isobel in the side of the head, making her laugh. She lifted it and threw it back at its owner, a girl with long brown hair and the faintest of scars on her face—Liberty. "Dude, rude."

Liberty giggled and caught the pillow, putting it under her head. "Stop belching and go to sleep."

Isobel burped again, long and loud, drawing groans from the other teen.

"She's kind of like living with a boy," said Daisy, still getting comfortable in her bed. "Ask her to burp the alphabet. She'll do it."

"I know," said Liberty, shaking her head as she struck the pillow with her fist, knocking the lumps out before settling in. "For real. We have class first thing in the morning. I need my sleep, and we don't need Dr. Chapman back here."

Isobel eyed her. "It's true. When you're tired, you're very unpleasant to be around."

Daisy laughed. "Oh yeah. Libs is totally the one who is hard to be around when tired. Not you. No. You're a sweetheart."

Isobel snorted. "Right!"

"I'm shutting the light off now," said Daisy. "Are you done with your one-woman burping show?"

Isobel grinned before burping again. "Almost."

"She's so classy," said Liberty to Daisy as the two laughed.

Isobel lay back in her bed, her gaze going to the small painting Daisy had done for her in art class. It was a painting of a graveyard at night with a full moon and a shadowy figure in the background. Daisy never said what the figure was or who it was supposed to be, but Isobel instantly thought of a vampire when she saw it. No shock since Isobel had a thing for vampires, loved reading about all the myths and legends surrounding them.

Liberty rolled onto her back as Daisy shut off the light.

The exterior security lights provided enough glow for the girls to see at least a little.

Isobel settled down under her covers before pulling her long black hair out from under her back. She moved to her side, facing Liberty and Daisy's direction. "So, earlier today, after music class, I was headed to Dr. Chapman's office for my therapy session when I saw Mr. Foster arguing with him."

"Really? Mr. Foster is always so calm. I can't really picture him being worked up," said Liberty.

"I'm sorry, you think he's calm?" asked Daisy. "He always seems tense to me. Like he's waiting for something to happen. It's creepy."

Isobel propped her head on her elbow, looking past Liberty toward Daisy. "You make me wonder if we see the world the same way at all. Seriously. And please tell me he doesn't set off your creep-meter because of his burns."

Daisy groaned. "I can't believe you'd even say that to me. I would never judge someone based on their looks. The fact he's got a lot of burn damage to half his face and probably half his body never entered my mind when I said he seems wound tight."

"Okay, but the dude is so chill it's amazing he doesn't fall asleep standing up," said Isobel with a grin. "He doesn't set off my creep-dar."

"Considering you firmly believe Dr. Chapman is a werewolf, I think it's safe to say we do not see the world the same way," said Daisy, snorting as she did. "And it's clear your creep-dar is skewed."

Isobel grinned. "Hey, I'm the Queen of Creepy. I know it. I am it."

Daisy giggled. "You are kind of dark and twisted."

"Thanks," replied Isobel.

"Are you over thinking Ms. Lamb is a…what was it again?" asked Daisy.

"Hobgoblin," stated Isobel evenly.

"Yes. That."

"I'm over that, yes," said Isobel.

"Good." Daisy laughed more.

"I'm not wrong about Chapman," said Isobel. "He's a werewolf. I'm sure of it. He disappears once a month around the full moon. I've seen him freshly shaved in the morning only to have one heck of a five o'clock shadow come dinnertime. He always acts weird when he sees my silver bracelet. Werewolves hate silver."

"Because they're real so a ton of factual information is available about them," countered Daisy.

"Hey, we're not exactly listed in nonfiction books, and we exist," offered Isobel. "Note how not normal we are."

"Fair point," said Daisy as they continued to talk back and forth over Liberty. "None of that makes Dr. Chapman a werewolf."

"I forgot to mention I'm positive I saw a wolf running out on the back property last week. Wolves aren't something you find in the city," said Isobel. "The wolf darted into the back bushes. Then a few seconds later, out walked Dr. Chapman."

"Are you saying he's the Clark Kent of werewolves, but instead of phone booths, he changes in bushes?" asked Daisy with a laugh.

"Yep," said Isobel. She burped again. "Pretty sure that's what I'm saying."

"You are so weird," said Daisy. "I'd like to enter into evidence the car you're working on at the junkyard. What did you name it again?"

"You leave Elvira out of this. When she's done, she's gonna be a beauty," proclaimed Isobel. She then glanced toward Liberty. "You're with me on this, right, Libs?"

"With you on what?" asked Liberty as she righted a small stuffed brown bear wearing a T-shirt that read "God Bless the U.S.A." and then a small Statue of Liberty figurine on her bedside table. Liberty had arrived at the home with the items

Isobel learned later they were things Liberty had from her early years. From a time that seemed to greatly overlap with what Isobel and Daisy could remember of their early childhood as well.

Their backgrounds were full of more questions than answers, for as far back as they could remember. They had overlapping memories of their early childhood. Of being held in a secret facility where they'd been subjected to horrible atrocities, including but not limited to testing. Liberty had the fewest memories from when she was younger. If one tenth of what Liberty recalled had truly happened, it was no wonder she'd blocked it all.

"You're spacing," said Liberty. "What did you want to know if I was with you on?"

"Nothing," said Isobel, exhaling and closing her eyes. "Get some rest."

"Sure," returned Liberty. "Now you want to be quiet."

Daisy laughed. "Night."

Isobel lay there for a while before sleep finally claimed her. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out cold before dreams of being surrounded by flames left her shooting awake in bed.

Chapter Two

AT FIRST, Isobel assumed she was still dreaming. That the orange that seemed to be everywhere, dancing in bizarre patterns on the walls, the ceiling, and the floor was nothing more than something her mind was manifesting while she had a dream within a dream. As she became more alert, she realized it was anything but a dream.

It was real.

The group home was on fire.

Just as panic was about to take hold, a tightness started in her chest and the air pressure around her seemed to change. It became thicker, a slight buzzing as static pressed in close to her. The flames that were everywhere seemed to give her a wide berth. They receded somewhat, giving her a better visual of what was happening and just how bad the situation was.

Heat, she thought. It should be hot in here.

It wasn't.

It was cold. Very cold.

The contrast between what should be and what was stuck out, but her focus shifted to what she could do.

Start fires with her mind.

She stared wide-eyed at the flames that were covering the exit from the large bedroom. Had she done this? Had she lost control of the darkness that lived in her, and the results before her in living color, consuming the building?

She twisted around in her bed, realizing for the first time the flames hadn't touched it in the least. As the shock of it all began to wane, she instantly thought of her friends.

"Daisy! Liberty!" she shouted, hoping they could hear her over the roar of the flames.

Neither responded.

Isobel darted out of bed, going right for Liberty. "Get up! There's a fire!"

She shook Liberty hard, jarring her friend awake.

"W-what?" asked Liberty, bewilderment on her face as the glow of the fire reflected in her eyes.

"Fire!" shouted Isobel, yanking hard on Liberty, helping her out of bed.

"Ohmygod!" yelled Liberty, standing and swaying before she got her bearings.

They crawled over Liberty's bed, scrambling to get to Daisy as thick black smoke rolled toward them.

Isobel twisted partially as Liberty grabbed for Daisy, trying to wake her. Isobel focused on the thick black smoke, narrowing her gaze, the buzzing in the air around her increasing.

Liberty coughed. "Daisy, wake up!"

The more Isobel stared at the smoke, the more it began to inch back from them. Then, something else filled the air, making it feel heavy, as if it was trying to snuff out the static—snuff out whatever it was Isobel had been doing to control the smoke and flames.

The opposing force left the smoke and the flames coming at the girls quickly.

Isobel spun, shaking Daisy too. "Get up!"

She didn't budge.

"Grab her head," said Isobel loudly.

Liberty coughed again and bent.

The smoke wasn't bothering Isobel, and she wondered if that too was part of her curse. If what she could do gave her a certain resistance to smoke inhalation.

Liberty coughed more.

Isobel weighed her options and spun, grabbing for Liberty's pillow, and yanking the case off it. She then scrambled over the bed once again. She took the glass of water from her bedside table and poured it over a portion of the pillowcase. In seconds, she was back, putting the wet cloth to Liberty's face.

"Get to the window!" shouted Isobel.

"No…" Liberty coughed as she tried to speak. "Not leaving you or Daisy."

Isobel lifted an arm and held out her hand toward the flames and smoke. Her charm bracelet reflected the glow from the fire as she concentrated, trying to harness what she could do in some meaningful fashion. She'd never tried to do anything on this scope or magnitude before and she'd never had anything close to control over it all.

It began to work, her ability pushing back against whatever dark force seemed to be controlling the fire. It didn't take long before Isobel felt the toll of it all.

When she thought she'd have to stop, that the flames would consume them, Liberty moved up alongside her, putting a hand on Isobel's shoulder and then lifting her other in the air. She stood tall, doing what she could do—move things with her mind. The smoke and flames pushed back faster, leaving the room fully, though they were still visible in the hallway under the door.

"Daisy," said Isobel, grabbing for her friend.

Daisy woke finally but was totally out of it. She drifted off to sleep again and Isobel reacted, slapping her across the face. She hadn't meant to, it just sort of happened.

Daisy's eyes shot open. She grabbed her cheek. "Isobel?"

"Fire!" Isobel pointed toward the door.

Liberty coughed more and pulled at the pillowcase, trying to rip it. That didn't work. She launched into another coughing fit.

"For the love of God, go to the window," said Isobel. "I'll pull a mattress over. Blow the window out, Liberty. But wait until I get the mattress and Daisy there. Okay?"

"Yes," said Liberty.

Isobel helped Daisy out of bed. "Can you stand?"

Daisy nodded.

"Let's go," said Isobel.

Liberty glanced at Isobel's bed, and it launched across the room at the window, going right through it.

The door to the room burst open and flames rolled in.

Isobel didn't wait. She pushed Liberty to get her to run and then dragged Daisy.

They were nearly to the window when the wall caved in, granting them another exit from the room that wasn't currently covered in flames or two stories up. Isobel pulled Daisy toward the opening.

Liberty disappeared, running back toward her bed, vanishing into the smoke.

Fear gripped Isobel. "Liberty!"

For a second, Isobel assumed Liberty had been consumed by the flames. Then she reappeared, holding her stuffed bear and the Statue of Liberty figurine. It was partially melted.

The girls rushed through the opening in the wall and in the direction of a rarely used back set of stairs. Thankfully, they weren't ablaze yet. They hurriedly began down them, making it to the landing between floors as a massive roaring sound came from above. They all froze, fear holding them in place.

"W-what was that?" asked Daisy, grabbing for the handrail.

Liberty clutched her prized possessions close to her as she trembled. "I don't know."

"Liberty, Isobel, Daisy!" shouted a familiar voice from the base of the stairs.

Looking down, Isobel spotted more of the teens from the group home.

"This way!" one of the boys yelled.

Isobel twisted as a massive ball of fire came barreling at them from above. "Go!"

Liberty hesitated a second before she and Daisy ran down the stairs.

Isobel waited until she was sure everyone was to safety before she stopped using her gifts to fight against the coming tide of fire. She was just about to turn and hurry down the stairs herself when a dark figure emerged from the fire above.

Her mind couldn't wrap around what she was seeing. Mr. Foster was there, his eyes jet black, his face even more misshapen than normal, considering the amount of scarring he had. He opened his mouth and hissed at her, showing off what she was sure were fangs for a split second.

Lunging forward, he came at Isobel, arms outstretched, hate blazing in his eyes as he snarled.

At the last second, Isobel twisted, causing Mr. Foster to go past her, at the cinderblock wall. He caught himself with one hand. The wall sizzled beneath his touch as he looked back at her, sneering, everything about him sinister.

In the next breath, Dr. Chapman appeared out of nowhere from behind Mr. Foster. Chapman wrapped his arms around Foster, as his face began to morph and change. He yanked Foster back into the fire.

"Run!" shouted Chapman.

Isobel turned to do just that, and the second floor gave way, causing a chunk of the landing to go as well. It was the very portion she was standing on. Her stomach dropped out from under her just as the floor did.

Pain slammed through her as she landed in a crumbled pile of twisted metal and concrete. She tried to move but found she was pinned under the rubble near the base of the stairs. Pain shot through Isobel's right arm, just below her elbow. Having the wind knocked out of her kept her from being able to cry out. She lay there, too stunned and stuck to do anything other than stare at the billowing black smoke coming from above.

"Isobel!" shouted Liberty as she came through the smoke, minus her bear and statue. She looked at the massive piece of slab wedged above Isobel. She lifted her hand and narrowed her gaze.

The slab gave way, flying at the other wall, as what felt like a sonic wave slammed into Isobel. Deep down she knew it was the aftershock of Liberty's power and that her friend never meant to harm her. That Liberty had only wanted to help.

Isobel cried out and then got ahold of herself just as Liberty grabbed her. Getting to her feet gingerly, she limped with Liberty's help. As they went past the wall, near the side of the staircase, Isobel noticed a large handprint burned into the cinderblock. It wasn't hers. It was the size of a large male's hand. She stared at it as Liberty helped her continue to limp from the building.

It wasn't until they were outside in the safety of the backyard that she realized her bracelet had come off. Part of her wanted to go back in and get it. But she knew better. The bracelet and the painting were casualties of the fire.

Instead, Isobel stood there with the other teens, watching as the only home she'd ever really known went down in flames.

"Children," said Ms. Lamb, one of the administrators, as she rushed around the side of the building. Her eyes were wide and she was in her nightclothes, with a blue robe over them. Soot covered most of her. "Is everyone accounted for?"

Isobel wasn't sure.

Another of the teens answered, confirming that as far as children went, they were all safe and accounted for.

"Dr. Chapman and Mr. Foster," whispered Isobel, staring at the burning building. "They're still inside."

"No, the fire got other staff members, but not them," said Ms. Lamb, her eyes seeming to glow amber for the briefest of moments. Since the building was on fire, it was easy to dismiss as a reflection, but Isobel couldn't help but wonder if she'd been right about the old woman.

Was she a hobgoblin?

Ms. Lamb offered a warm smile. "They're out front, darling, flagging down the fire trucks. I just left them."

Isobel stiffened. She'd imagined it all? They'd not been upstairs?

Liberty grabbed for her. "Isobel, you're bleeding!"

Glancing down, Isobel found that her right arm was ripped open enough that stitches would be required.

Ms. Lamb's attention went to one of the boys. "Michael, be a dear and go out front to check on Mr. Foster and Dr. Chapman. Now, children, the rest of you need to come with me. Isobel needs to be tended to, and the rest of you will need to speak with someone. They'll help you move past all this. Wouldn't want anyone having nightmares."

The way she said it left a shiver racing over Isobel.