Page 77 of Half the Summer's Night

“What kind of bad things?” I snarl. My voice clangs around in the bathroom, and anyone else would have been terrified. But not Charlotte. She doesn’t even flinch.

“From what I understand,” she finally says. “It builds up. The need to kill. It builds and builds until it explodes out of you, and you’ll slaughter anyone and anything just to feel normal again. Even someone you love.”

Abi flashes through my thoughts. Standing on the porch, wreathed in light. Strolling down the beach with the wind blowing back her hair. Smiling at me from above the lavender latte I bought for her as Rowan Hanover, who, if he were real, would be the sort of man she deserves. Not an inhuman monster like me.

“But you’ve never suppressed it, “Charlotte says. “That’s good.”

We’re silent for a moment, the two of us staring at each other across the bathroom. I don’t know what to make of any of this.

For the first time in my life, I wish Uncle Nash were alive. If anyone could confirm what she’s saying, it was him.

But if I’m honest with myself, I don’t need his confirmation. I know she’s right. I can feel it clicking into place.

“You can sense things,” Charlotte says softly. “Emotions.”

The muscles in my body tense up.

“You can tell when someone’s nearby,” she continues, her eyes fixed on my killing face. “If they’re scared or relaxed.” She pauses. “You can hear things other people can’t. Like their hearts.”

As soon as she says it, I’m aware of her heartbeat. Slow and steady. She’s not frightened at all.

“That’s how you’re able to kill so well,” she continues. “You’re stronger than they are. Faster.”

There’s a slight stress to the way she saysthey, and I know, instinctively, who she means. Everyone. The whole fucking world. All those people I watch at work: the tourists and locals alike, buzzing around on the beach with all the noise of their humanity.

Abi.

And I know, instinctively, that I’m not like them. I’ve always known it.

“Who are you?” I ask, and my voice startles me, how much it sounds like Rowan Hanover instead of me. “Not, like your name.Whoare you? Why are you telling me all of this?”

Charlotte smiles, and there’s something sad about it. Something wistful. “I’m your half-sister,” she finally says. “Johnson Baldys is my father, too.”

Blood pounds in my ears. A half-sister.

“The parent who isn’t human,” I finally say.

“Yeah. A Hunter.” Charlotte steps up to me, and I search her features through my killing face. Even in the bad, sallow light, I think I can see Rowan Hanover, a little, in the shape of her eyes, the line of her nose.

No, not Rowan Hanover. Me. Myself.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while,” she says. “I only just found out what I am, after—” She laughs. “Well, it’s a long story. But my boyfriend, Jaxon—he’s like us—he thought I should know more Hunters. So I came looking for you.”

I don’t know what to say. The lights over the mirror pop and buzz. Through the cinderblock walls, I can hear the ocean. It reminds me of Abi’s soft, steady breath as she sleeps.

“And you found me.” It’s the only thing I can think of. “So now what?”

Charlotte frowns a little. “I feel like I need to teach you what we are,” she says. “The way Jaxon taught me.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” I can’t believe I’m saying this, but at the same time, I’m curious. I’ve always felt detached from the world. Abi’s the only thing that’s ever connected me to it. And that’s not going to change, of course.

But if there are others out there like me—well, I should know about that. To protect her.

Charlotte grins. “I thought maybe we could go hunting together.”

It takes me a second to register what she’s saying. “You mean kill someone?”

My question bounds around the bathroom. Charlotte sighs.