“Here we go,” he whispered. “Three… two… one.”

The last word came with a rush of cold, like someone had poured a glass of ice water into her brain, and Sophie clamped her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering.

The chills numbed her thoughts, leaving her head quieter than it had ever been before, and she soaked up the silence, loving every second—right up until the noise took over.

It felt like someone clicked on a movie projector at full speed and full volume. And the images were too jumpy to make any sense.

But each new breath brought more focus, until Sophie could recognize two little girls—one blond and one brunette—surrounded by murky green.

They started out talking. But talking shifted to teasing. And teasing turned to taunting as the voices grew louder and louder.

Angrier and angrier.

Sophie couldn’t make out any of the individual words.

But she could feel them cutting deeper and deeper.

Sinking into sensitive places.

Raw places.

Dangerous places.

Poking and prodding and pulsing.

Exposing powerful new nerves that sent tingles rocketing through her.

Her hands burned—fingertips humming with a strange, itchy energy.

And her head…

There was So. Much. Pressure.

Too much.

It boiled and bubbled inside her skull, growing darker and darker and darker—and Sophie gasped as her consciousness dropped fully into the moment, the sensations completely taking over.

Her stomach twisted.

Limbs thrashed.

Brain churning churning churning with emotions so intense, it felt like they were tearing and scratching and shredding—and maybe they were, because something deep inside her mind seemed to unravel, leaving… an opening.

A new pathway.

And the darkness surged forward.

Turning hotter.

Wilder.

She felt herself cry out at the same moment she did in the memory as her fury shifted from black to red and poured out of her mind.

Aimed at a single target.

Sophie, please—stop!

Amy’s screams clawed through Sophie’s ears, and she couldn’t tell if they were from memory or reality. The lines between both had blurred, and she was caught up in the frenzy.

Beyond her body.

Beyond the world.

Nothing but pure, unbridled force.

Powerful.

Unstoppable.

“Sophie!”

The new voice demanded attention—familiar in some ways, and unexpected in others. And with that thought, Sophie felt her mind divide.

Part of her clung to the girl she is.

The rest stayed trapped with the girl she used to be.

And each “Sophie” was frightened and fearless and furious.

But Present-Sophie felt clearer. She could recognize the desperation in Mr. Forkle’s voice as he called her name over and over and over, and she knew she needed to listen.

Past-Sophie heard nothing but a ghost in the darkness.

His pleas were lost.

She was lost.

Buried under her newfound power that was consuming everything it touched.

She didn’t recognize the warm pressure in her palms for what it was.

But Present-Sophie did, and she knew that Mr. Forkle was clinging to her. She heard him gasp as the tingly warmth bled between their skin, his grip tightening and his voice gaining a newfound strength.

Sophie, STOP!

His command was loud enough to reach even Past-Sophie—but she didn’t know how to obey.

STOP! he repeated, filling her mind with happy thoughts.

The red rage quickly burned those away.

STOP!

STOP!

STOP!

I can’t! she tried to tell him, but the words were there and gone much too fast.

Heat tingled in her palms again, and the next time Mr. Forkle spoke, his voice was laced with joy.

And hope.

And happiness.

And love.

Each emotion flooded her mind with warmth and light, melting away the black and the red until there was nothing but soft golden shimmer, like a perfect sunrise.

An awakening.

Past-Sophie was too tired to face it—and didn’t resist the sticky sweetness that trickled across her tongue.

Present-Sophie gagged from the memory of the cloying sedative that Mr. Forkle must have given her.

And as Past-Sophie happily floated into the fuzziness, too weary to wonder what she’d done, Present-Sophie knew there would be consequences.

Sophie clung to the word, and the thought triggered a surprising ripple of information as the two parts of herself tangled back into one and the memory tucked itself away—buried under all of that unexpected truth.

Everything she’d seen and felt and learned was now solidly in her past.

But new questions stretched into her future as Sophie’s mind translated the vague, blurry feelings and pieced together what had actually happened.

She’d inflicted on her sister that day—lost control during a fight and unleashed a tempest of pain.

But that wasn’t the discovery that left her shivering and shaking.

No, she was trembling because Mr. Forkle hadn’t been able to call her out of the frenzy until he’d touched her hands.

Then she’d enhanced him.

And he’d inflicted on her.

SEVENTEEN

YOU.”

It was the only word that Sophie could pull from the pounding chaos in her brain.

A question.

An accusation.

A revelation.

“Yes,” Mr. Forkle told her, his voice raspy, as if he’d been shouting in the present—not just in the past.

There was another sound too, one that made Sophie want to slap herself when she recognized it, because where were her priorities?

“Amy?” she asked, swaying from a head rush as she pulled herself upright.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to focus—and then there was her sister, curled into a tight ball, rocking back and forth as whimpers rattled out of her.

Her face was pinched.

Forehead sweaty.

Skin a troubling greenish-gray.

“She’ll be fine in another minute or two,” Mr. Forkle promised, which sounded more impossible with each pained noise that Amy made. “Truly, Miss Foster. Her memory of what happened simply runs longer than yours, since I sedated you first that day, in order to ensure that you couldn’t lose control again. And your sister also regained consciousness very briefly after Livvy arrived to help, so she has those extra moments to relive as well. But her mind should settle right… about… now. See?”

Amy’s body stilled and her moans fell silent—but she still looked far too ill for Sophie to be impressed.

Sophie choked down the bile coating her throat, though the sourness remained when her sister didn’t move. “Is she unconscious?”

“She’s somewhere between awake and asleep, finding her path back to reality.” Mr. Forkle pressed two fingers onto each of Amy’s temples and closed his eyes, nodding at whatever he saw inside her head. “These kinds of things take longer for humans to process. But don’t worry—she’s past the pain. Her mind’s simply struggling to understand that the sedative it thinks it’s feeling was actually in her system years ago and wasn’t something she took today—though I wonder if it’d be easier to give her some now and let her rest. She looks more exhausted than I’d hoped.”