No, it couldn’t be. It wasn’t even Rachel’s car; Galen just bought her a classy little white BMW. The one that passed was a four-door blue something that Rachel wouldn’t be caught dead in. Except, the driver looked like her twin sister. All big hair and red lipstick and matching acrylic nails draped menacingly over the steering wheel.

I adjust the rearview mirror and follow the blue car with my eyes without blinking, until my eyes feel like they’ve pickled inside my head. Just when I think we’re in the clear, just when I think I’m letting my imagination run wild, the blue non-Rachel car stops. Makes a sloppy U-turn. Starts speeding toward us with hazard lights flashing.

Fan-flipping-tastic. I stomp on the gas. “Mom, wake up. We’ve got a problem.”

She startles awake and whips a suspicious glance around as if I’m the one who’s kidnapped her. Nice. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know, but Rachel—the woman we told you was Galen’s mom—found us. She’s behind us in that blue car. What do you want me to do?”

Mom’s head jerks around to the back window. She curses under her breath. “Who is that woman? How did she find us?”

“She’s ex-Mafia.” I inhale, like I just admitted I’m ex-Mafia or something. It doesn’t help that Mom glares at me as if I just confessed to it, too.

“Seriously, ex-Mafia? Like, the Mafia?”

I nod.

“Poseidon’s beard,” she mutters.

I’m pretty sure I won’t get used to my mom using fishy cuss words anytime soon.

“Try to lose her.”

“It’s a long straight road with hardly any turns.”

“Well, speed up!” She pops open the glove compartment. Then pulls out a freaking gun.

“Mom—”

“Don’t start. It’s just to scare her. Usually all you have to do is show someone that you have a gun and that you’re not going to take any crap—”

“Did you hear what I said? She’s ex-Mob. Her gun probably eats guns like that for breakfast.”

She clicks the gun like a pro and three bullets pop out into her hand. Watching your mother do something like this is surreal—even under the circumstances. “Three,” she breathes. “It’ll have to do.”

Panic closes off my windpipe. “What happened to just showing it to her?”

“Like you said. She’s ex-Mob.”

“You can’t shoot her. You just can’t.” But she reloads like maybe she can. Suddenly I’m having a hard time staying in my lane on this long, straight road.

“I’m not going to shoot her. I’m just going to shoot at her.” Then that freaking lunatic rolls down the window. “Besides,” she grunts, “if I wanted to kill someone, it would have been Rayna.” She hangs her head out and pulls the gun through with her.

Options, options, options. Sometimes options are a luxury. Sometimes there is only one option, and usually that one option sucks. Like this time, for instance.

So, I take my one option and swerve off the road.

I hear the gunshot right before we hit.

6

GROM IS playing a game on Galen’s cell phone when it rings. Startled, he drops it as if it burned his hand. Galen laughs before he can stop himself. Grom shoots him a sour look but hands him the phone.

“Hey, Rachel,” Galen says, still grinning.

“Where are you?” Her voice sounds shaken—something Galen’s never heard before.

“We just passed a town called Freeport. Why?”

“You’re close then. Good. I found Emma and her mom.”

Relief swirls through him, but he knows better than to trust it. Especially with the way Rachel’s voice sounds strained. “Where? Are they with you?”

“Galen.” Rachel never calls him Galen, only sweet pea. Even when she’s mad at him, she just says it through clenched teeth. Terror stabs him all over.

“What? What is it?”

“They were in a car accident. Her mom … I think her mom shot herself.” That last part sounded more like a question than a statement.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she shot herself. In the shoulder. She didn’t do it on purpose and I don’t think it’s life threatening, but I haven’t seen it up close yet. There’s definitely blood. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to call an ambulance because of their … background. Unless you think I should.”

Galen groans into the phone. Her mom shot herself. Calling an ambulance that will take her to a human doctor is a bad idea. According to Dr. Milligan, it’s immediately evident that the Syrena bone structure is much different from human’s. They can’t risk any kind of thorough exam of Nalia, like X-rays or extracting her blood.

What else could possibly go wrong?

“There’s something else,” Rachel says, making the hairs on his neck stand up.

Galen answers her with an impatient grunt.

“I’ve been shot, too. I can’t drive.”

If Galen weren’t driving, he’d bang his head on the steering wheel. Hard. “How far away are we from you?”

Rachel’s breath is short and fast. It’s possibly the worst sound he’s ever heard. “About thirty minutes yet.”

He’s hoping she means it’s thirty minutes if he adheres to the posted speed limit. “Emma’s mother is a human nurse. Maybe she can help you.”