“They won’t hurt you if you don’t try to hurt them. But I have to warn you: we have to make sure they know you’re no danger to them; otherwise, they’ll defend themselves. And considering that you smell like witches, they’ll see you as the enemy.”

There it was again, her claim that they were witches. “You must be mistaken. Maybe you smell the witch out there. But as I told you earlier, Wes and I never inherited our mother’s powers. We’re not witches.”

Yvette shook her head. “That’s impossible; it never skips a generation. And for not even one of the two children of a witch to inherit her powers? That can’t be right.”

Wes shuffled closer. “Maybe Katie inherited Mom’s powers.”

“Katie?” Yvette asked.

“Our sister,” Haven explained, “the one who was kidnapped by a vampire.”

“And never seen again,” Wesley added.

Yvette gave him a look full of compassion. “I’m sorry. No wonder you hate us so much.”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember it like yesterday.” Haven caught Yvette’s expectant look. It encouraged him to go on. “Mom was attacked in her own kitchen one night. I tried to help her, but I wasn’t strong enough. I was just a kid. The vampire told her she had to give one of us up. I didn’t understand at first what that meant, but when he took Katie after he’d killed Mom, I knew. He’d said that he only needed one of the three of us. Just one. And Katie was the easiest to take.”

It was still difficult to talk about it. Haven closed his eyes for a moment and took a few steadying breaths. Would Yvette understand now that whatever attraction was between them could never go any further? That he couldn’t soil his mother’s and sister’s memory by getting involved with a vampire?

“Three,” Yvette whispered. “Three.” Realization bloomed in her eyes as pieces of the puzzle suddenly seemed to click into place. Haven opened his eyes and stared at her. She grabbed Kimberly by the shoulders and held her away from her.

“The Power of Three. That’s what the vampire meant.” Yvette stared up at Haven. “That’s why he said he only had to take one of you. One of the three.”

“What?” Wesley asked, his voice as confused as Haven felt. He had no idea what Yvette was talking about.

She jumped up. “Don’t you see? The vampire wanted to separate the three of you: Wes, you, and Katie. The three children of a witch.”

“And kill Mom,” Wesley barked.

Haven shook his head. “No, he didn’t want to kill her. He said he would have let her live, but she was fighting him. He killed her because she was trying to bespell him. She died for us, because she couldn’t let either of us go.”

Yvette nodded. “All he wanted was to break up the three siblings. Destroy the power.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Haven asked, curious now.

“There’s a legend that the three children of a witch will upset the power balance in the underworld, the balance between vampires, witches, and demons. I don’t know much about it, but I know that if you and your brother are two of those siblings, then I think I’ve just come up with the reason the witch captured you. You—” Then Yvette turned her gaze back to Kimberly, who’d risen from her cot. “—and your sister.”
Fifteen

Haven’s incredulous stare bounced from Yvette to Kimberly and then back to Yvette. He vaguely heard his brother gasp in surprise, a sound he would have echoed had he been able to do anything other than gape. He took in Kimberly’s slender figure and her blonde hair. He and Wes both had dark hair, just like their parents.

“It can’t be. Kimberly looks nothing like my parents.” He pointed toward her hair. “Nobody in our family has light-colored hair.”

Kimberly rose, her movements tentative as if unsure of herself. “I’m not a blonde. They wanted that color for the movie. I haven’t changed it back yet.”

Haven blinked and tried to see her with different eyes, blocking out her hair. He focused on her facial features: her eyes, the line of her straight nose, her lips, her stubborn chin. Some things looked familiar, others didn’t. There was no way to know for sure. He shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He glanced at Wes, silently asking for reassurance, but his brother merely shrugged.

“It would be too much of a coincidence. We’ve looked for her for twenty-two years. Why would she—”

“Twenty-two years?” Kimberly asked. “I was dropped off at an orphanage a little over twenty-two years ago. The man who left me there never came back.”