Michael stepped forward, hands raised in peace. “Hey, if there’s something we need to figure out here, the fewer preconceptions, the better. Scout, if you have something you need us to see, you’d better show it now.”

Scout glanced over at me, nodded her head decidedly, then spun her finger in the air.

“Turn around,” she said. I glanced around the room, not entirely eager to pull up my shirt before an assemblage of people I didn’t know—and a boy I potentially wanted to know better. But it needed to be done, so I twisted around, pulled my shirt from the waist of my skirt, and lifted it just enough to show the mark across my lower back.

Their faces pinched in concentration and thought, the group of them moved around me to stare at my back.

“It’s a darkening,” Jason said, then lifted his killer blue eyes to mine. “Is it okay if I touch it?”

I swallowed, then nodded and gripped the hem of the shirt, still between my fingers, a little tighter. He stretched out his hand. His fingers just grazed my back, my skin tingling beneath his fingers. I stifled a shudder, but goose bumps arose on my arms. This wasn’t the time or the place for me to get giggly about Jason’s attentions, but that didn’t make the effect any less powerful. It felt like a tingle of electricity moving across my skin, like that first dip into a hot bath on a cold night—spine tingling.

“It’s definitely like ours,” Jason agreed, standing again. “Have you developed any powers?” he quietly asked me.

I shook my head.

“I have no idea how she got it,” Jason finally concluded, his brow furrowed. “But it’s like ours. Or close enough, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Scout said, “but you nailed it—there’s something different about hers, isn’t there? The edges are fuzzier. Like a tattoo, but the ink bled.”

“What could that mean, Green?” Katie asked.

She shrugged. “I have no clue.”

“Research is your field,” Smith reminded her. “There’s nothing in the Grimoire?”

“Not that I could find, and I checked the index for every entry I could think of.” I assumed the Grimoire was the giant leather-bound book she’d skimmed through before deciding to notify the elders.

Smith raised his gaze to me. “I understand that you’ve been provided with the basics about our enclave, our struggle, our gifts.”

I nodded.

“And you’re sure you haven’t . . . become aware of any powers since you were hit?”

“I’d remember,” I assured him.

“Maybe this is just a symbol of the fact that she was hit?” Jason suggested, frowning, head tilted as he gazed at my back. “Like, I don’t know, a stamp of the shot she took?”

“I really don’t know,” Scout said quietly.

Their conversations got quieter, like scientists mumbling as they considered a prime specimen. I stared at the wall at the other end of the room while they whispered behind me and tried to figure out who—or what—I’d become.

Eventually, Smith straightened and, like obedient pups, the rest of the group followed suit and spread out again. I pulled my shirt back down and turned to face them.

Smith shook his head. “All we know is that she’s marked. It might not be a darkening. Anything else is just speculation.”

“Speculation?” Paul asked. “She’s got a darkening, just like ours.”

“Not exactly like ours,” Katie reminded him.

I watched Michael struggle to keep his expression neutral. “Enough like ours,” he countered, “to make it evident that she’s like us. That she’s one of us.”

Katie shook her head. “You’re missing the point. She’s already told us she doesn’t have skills, magic, power. Nothing but a fancy bruise.” As if to confirm that suspicion, she turned her green-eyed gaze on me. “She’s not one of us.”

“A fancy bruise?” Scout repeated. “You’re kidding, right?”

Katie shrugged, the movement and her expression condescending. “I’m just saying.”

“Hey,” Smith said, apparently deciding to intervene. “Let it go. It’s better for her, anyway. Hanging out down here isn’t fun and games. This job is dangerous, it’s hard, and it’s exhausting. This might feel like rejection. It’s actually luck.”

The room went quiet. When Scout spoke again, her voice was soft, but earnest.

“I know my place,” she said, “and we all know this isn’t the easiest job in the world. But if she’s one of us, if she’s part of us, she needs to know. We need to know.”

“There’s no evidence that she’s one of us, Scout,” Smith said. “A mark isn’t enough. A mark won’t stop Reapers, and it won’t save regulars, and it won’t help us. This isn’t up for debate. You bring me some evidence—real evidence—that it’s a darkening, and we’ll talk about it again.”

I could feel Scout’s frustration, could see it in the stiffness in her shoulders. She looked at her colleagues.

“Paul? Jamie? Jill? Jason?” When she met Michael’s gaze, her expression softened. “Michael?”

He looked down for a moment, considering, then up at her again. “I’m sorry, Scout, but I’m with Smith on this one. She’s not like us. She wasn’t made the way we were. She wasn’t born with power, and the only reason she has a mark is because she got hit. If we let her in anyway, if we play devil’s advocate, she takes our attention away from everything else we have to deal with. We can’t afford that right now.”