The Complete Lost Children Series

by Krista Street

  Mica frowned and looked out the window. Her eyes lit up. I followed her gaze. Jasper. Mica and Jasper had been together even longer than Flint and me.

  We waited another hour in the kitchen before everyone began asking questions about when we’d go. Flint finally ventured into the basement to see what was holding up Father and Di. He returned a minute later, explaining they’d lost track of time and would be up shortly. By shortly, I guessed over two hours.

  By the time we set out, it was late afternoon.

  Di apologized several times for keeping us waiting while we trudged through the forest. However, Father’s mind never seemed to leave the lab. He looked deep in thought as we trekked through the Forbidden Hills, a heavy frown on his face.

  Just before dark, we returned to the cabin.

  We spent the evening pulling out ornaments, tinsel and stringing lights. I tried not to notice how both Di and Father kept inching toward the lab. By ten o’clock, they’d managed to disappear without anyone noticing.

  Flint and I climbed up the ladder to get ready for bed while Mica, the twins and Amber stayed in the living room. Jacinda had retreated to the kitchen to warm up apple cider.

  If I hadn’t been so worried about what Father and Di were doing, I would have stayed with everyone else. However, I wasn’t very good company at the moment. What normally was one of the best days of the year had left me with a churning stomach. Father had never left our Christmas tree decorating early before.

  No matter what he’d had going on in the lab.

  Flint and I walked into his room and closed the door. He pulled me on his bed, his small twin bed groaning in protest over the added weight. Pale moonlight bled onto the floor, leaving everything in dark shadows and silvery light.

  He kissed me until my head spun. When he finally pulled back, it took me a moment to get my bearings.

  “What are they doing down there?” I pushed up on an elbow. “Father’s never left the tree decorating early before. He’s usually the last to turn out the lights.”

  “I know.” Flint’s voice was grim.

  “Do you think something’s wrong? Maybe Father’s sick, or Di’s sick, and they’re trying to find a drug to cure it? Something like that?”

  For a minute, he didn’t say anything, but he eventually shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure Di would have told me if she was sick.”

  I swallowed. “So do you think Father’s sick?”

  “That I couldn’t tell you.”

  My stomach plummeted. I couldn’t imagine a life without Father. He’d always just . . . been there.

  Flint’s arms tightened around me. The inevitable safe feeling he always evoked soon worked its magic. “No matter what happens, we’ll all be okay, and I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

  I couldn’t stop my smile. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m pretty capable.”

  Flint chuckled. “I know. But, maybe I need to take care of you, for my own peace of mind.”

  “That I can live with.”

  Flint fell asleep as we lay on his bed, our arms entwined. His heat warmed me, yet my worry continued. Something was wrong, very wrong.

  I could feel it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Present Day

  The memories played through my mind, shifting back and forth. Everything was so vivid, so real. It wasn’t until my eyes fluttered open, and I saw Flint hunkered down beside me, the rest of the group and Father behind him, that I realized they’d been just that.

  Memories.

  My childhood. My family. The cabin—our home. Flint. Always Flint.

  My mouth parted as the enormity of what I’d remembered settled in. Flint and I had been in love for years. What I’d felt for him, all those months ago, on that first day we re-met in Pete’s entry way had been real. Something buried deep in my subconscious, that could never be destroyed, had recognized him. Father was right. Not even his memory drug could break our bond.

  I tried to sit up. Flint stopped me. “You need to lie still. Conroy and Di want to check you over one more time.”

  I relaxed back. Or tried to. A headache thrummed in the back of my mind. The more awake I became, the more it hurt.

  Brushing it off, I stared in wonder at Flint. Dark eyes, that mirrored my surprise and awe, stared back.

  “All of that was real? What we felt? What we experienced together?”

  “It was,” he said huskily.

  Jacinda kneeled beside me, smiling. “How are you, sis?”

  I grinned. Even though Father had told Jacinda and me that we were related, it hadn’t felt real. It was like being told you’d won the lottery. It seemed too good to be true, but now I had all of my memories. Memories of Jacinda being the only one I confided in for years, the only one who understood how I felt about so many things. She truly was my sister.

  I squeezed her hand. “You’ve always been my friend, not just my sister.”

  “Ever since we were little.”

  Father stepped forward and peered closely at my eyes, lifting my lids. Had I really been calling him Conroy for the past few days? I shook my head internally. He was my Father, not a stranger.

  “Do you feel all right?” he asked.

  The headache still throbbed at the base of my neck, but headaches were nothing new to me. I nodded. “Yeah, I feel fine.”

  He gave me the okay to sit up, and I again marveled at how surreal this was. It felt weird, fully understanding now who Father was. The memories of the past few days were still in my mind. Meeting him, calling him Conroy, not knowing who he was. But then memories of my lifetime were there too. He’d been a father figure to me for as long as I could remember.

  It was weird. Like I’d lived two separate lives, remembered both, and was only now understanding they were joined. All the love I had for Father was there again. I now knew why I’d felt the innate need to trust him when we’d reunited. He’d never hurt me, and he’d always been a father figure, even if we weren’t blood-related.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat as the headache moved to the back of my eyes. “Hi, Father.”

  He smiled, relief on his face. “Oh, my little, Galena. I really missed you.”

  I got up and wrapped my arms around him.

  His chin settled on the top of my head. I relished his smell. I remembered it now. Soap, aftershave, and mint. It felt so easy, so right to hug him like this. I’d been doing it my whole life.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears that wanted to spill. I glanced up at him. “Are you glad we’re all back?”

  “As frightened as I am for what will happen now, I’ve missed you all terribly. My life during the past six months has felt very empty.”

  I hugged him tighter. “Don’t do that again. No matter what happens, I want to remember you forever.”

  “I won’t.”

  I squeezed him one last time.

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “We should all go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  I pulled back and for the first time since waking felt the tension in the room. For once, the twins didn’t look so cocky or sure of themselves. They stood apart from one another, their hands in their pockets. Jasper stood by himself, beside the couch, his gaze on the floor. He’d obviously woken before me. Mica stood behind him, her eyes shooting daggers at his back, while Amber was curled in a ball on one of the armchairs.

  I swallowed.

  Right.

  For years, Jasper and Mica had been together, but for the past few months, they’d been anything but a couple. Jasper had been with Amber. I couldn’t imagine what Mica felt right now. Part of me wanted to hug her. Another part of me wondered if she wanted space or someone to rant at.

  Before I could do anything, she uttered a disgusted sound and stalked from the room. Amber scampered up a moment later and disappeared in the opposite direction. A few sobs trailed in her wake.

  Jasper hung his head. Even Jet seemed at loss for words.


  Biting my lip, I entwined my hand through Flint’s. I felt sick for Mica. If I’d woken up, knowing all I knew about Flint and me, and then realized for the past few months he’d actually been with someone else . . . It felt as if someone punched me in the gut just thinking about it.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked.

  Jacinda shrugged, her mouth down-turned. “Would you be if you were in her shoes?”

  Di crossed her arms. “She’ll find a way to deal with it. She doesn’t have a choice. What’s done is done.”

  As cruel, or perhaps as pragmatic as those words were, as always, Di was right. We couldn’t change the past. Whatever Mica, Jasper and Amber decided to do from here would be up to them, but their actions couldn’t be undone.

  Father sighed heavily and shook his head. “We should turn in.” His eyes were glassy, his expression haggard.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  Flint squeezed my hand. “Ten at night.”

  “Wow.” I’d been asleep for six hours. “So all of those months after the fire, when you two were locked in the basement, this drug is what you’d been working on? The drug to make us forget?” I still remembered that feeling of impending doom, that something bad was to come. I’d been right.

  Father nodded. “And the drug to make you remember. I wanted both on hand.”

  I glanced at Di. She stood by the cold fireplace, a brooding expression on her face. All along Father had planned to erase our memories, but . . .

  “Did you know, Di? What it was for?”

  She shook her head. “No. I only knew it affected memory, but I didn’t know it was going to be used on us.” Her tone was neither defensive nor cunning. I knew she told the truth.

  “Let’s go to bed.” There was an edge in Flint’s voice. A dark expression clouded his face. “Lena?” He pulled me toward the stairs.

  I followed him from the room. I glanced back when we reached the stairs to find Father watching us. His mouth was down-turned, his expression regretful. I knew now that he and Flint had never formed a close relationship. I also knew that was Flint’s choice. Not Father’s. Flint had always kept Father at arm’s length. He blamed Father for everything O’Brien had done to us when we were little. All of the drugs and experiments, even though Father did everything he could to minimize those experiences. Chewing my lip, I followed Flint down the staircase.

  WHEN WE WERE alone in our room, Flint closed the door. He raked a hand harshly through his hair. The energy in the air abruptly changed. That raw, powerful feeling that always rolled off him when he was angry increased.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Flint sighed heavily. He sat on the bed and clasped his hands together on his knees. The bed was still mussed from us sleeping in it. Tentatively, I sat beside him. The energy coming from him was so strong.

  “It’s . . . him. Conroy.” Flint sneered, abruptly stood and paced a few times. “How could he have done this to us? Erased our memories, separated us? He took you away from me. On purpose. He had to know what you were to me, what you are to me, yet he did it anyway. That doesn’t sound like somebody who cares about us.” He stopped at the window and looked out. In a fierce voice, he said, “I’ll never forgive him.”

  For a moment, I watched him. The broad shoulders, the chestnut hair, the pulsing anger that hid a core made of steel coated in loyalty. It was all so . . . Flint.

  One of my earliest memories was of him and me outside at the cabin, right after Father took us from that place. The leaves were crimson and gold, the air crisp. At that age, Flint barely spoke. He often isolated himself from others. As the oldest, Flint had been more traumatized by O’Brien than any of us.

  That day he’d stood apart from everyone else, staring at the trees, refusing to interact while everyone else played together. I’d approached him, not relenting until he smiled. It was a small smile but still a smile. My innocent cheerfulness and innate need to include everyone in everything had been the beginning of our bond. I knew now that our relationship was so strong because it was based on friendship. For years we’d only been childhood friends, both of us loyal to the other, watching out for and protecting each other. Yet Flint took loyalty to an entirely new level.

  I knew he’d rather die than hurt me.

  Pulling him back to the bed, I practically forced him to sit beside me. A twinge of anger bubbled up in me. Flint was right. Father had purposely split Flint and me up. But I also knew Father didn’t enjoy doing that. He didn’t want to. All he ever wanted was to protect us.

  He felt he had no choice.

  I shook my head. I was still trying to process it all. It was all so surreal.

  The stress of trying to understand all that had happened made my headache grow. I rubbed the back of my neck. It still hadn’t abated. If anything, the throbbing had grown.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I finally replied. “I know what you mean, and I agree that Father had to know what he was doing to us.”

  “So you’re mad too?”

  I paused, frowning. “A little angry—yes. But, I’m not angry the way you are.”

  “You’re not?”

  I shook my head.

  “How can you not be?”

  Doing my best to ignore the throbbing in my skull, I tried to articulate how I felt. “Father has always loved us, I know that. And he’s only ever wanted to protect us. That I’m certain of. Surely you can relate to that?”

  Flint stared at me with disbelieving eyes.

  I placed my hand over his. “If you thought something was going to harm me, and the only way to guarantee I’d stay safe was to leave me forever, you’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

  He frowned, his expression grim. “I can’t imagine anything being so significant that I’d have to leave to protect you. It seems to make more sense for me to stay to protect you.”

  “No, we can’t imagine anything that significant, but Father can.”

  Flint’s brow furrowed.

  I rubbed my neck again. “I barely remember that place we came from when we were kids. It’s all foggy. I only have one or two clear memories of it, but Father remembers all of it. And he knows more about those people than we ever will. Of all of us, Father knows what that group is capable of. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I know he wanted to keep us together, but in the end, he knew the safest bet was to split us up. I truly don’t believe he ever wanted to do that. He chose the lesser of two evils.”

  Flint raked a hand through his hair. His energy kicked up a notch. “So you’re really not mad at him?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  He sighed.

  I put my arm around his shoulders. They were so wide I could barely get my hand cupped around his deltoid. He turned and pulled me to him. He easily engulfed me in his embrace.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “No matter what we both think on this matter.”

  “I love you too.”

  “But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him.”

  “I know.” After a lifetime of blaming Father, what happened this year would only make it worse. Flint and Father would probably never see eye to eye.

  “Yet you forgive him so easily.”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled me tighter to him. His hands roamed up and down my back. I peeked up at him. His eyes were distant, unseeing as if lost deep in thought.

  I rubbed against him, trying to pull him from the mood he was falling into. It took a moment before he seemed aware of what I was doing.

  His eyes darkened when he looked down. His voice grew husky. “Just what are you doing, babe?”

  “Helping you remember a few things.” I rubbed against him more. If nothing else, this new distraction helped me ignore my pounding headache.

  Hot energy rolled off him. “I think I’m going to like remembering.”

  “Me too.”

  He groaned and crushed me to him. He kissed me. Hard. I could feel his anger and r
age over Father, but his desire and need were there too. The heavy emotions swirled around me like a boxer throwing punches. Quick bursts hit me every which way. I never knew where I was going to be hit next.

  I pushed back from him. “Holy crap.”

  I kept him at arm’s length. His shoulders bunched under my fingers. They felt like iron.

  “What?” Confusion laced his words. His eyes were dark with desire.

  “It’s . . .” I shook my head. Now that I had my memories, things were coming back to me at lightning speed. This is what Father was talking about!

  My ability wasn’t limited to seeing clouds around people. I was able to do so much more. Father was right. The latest drug brought back all that I learned. What I had felt right now was so much stronger than anything I’d felt since waking up in April.

  “Holy crap!” I said again.

  Flint tensed. “What’s wrong?”

  I smiled. “Your cloud . . . your aura . . . it’s so strong right now. It’s different feeling. More.”

  He blinked and then slowly, understanding dawned. “That’s right. You can do more than just see clouds.”

  “All of the years Father helped me work on it . . . I’d forgotten. Just like my identity. I’d forgotten how advanced my ability is.”

  “And it’s not just you.”

  I nodded. “Right, the twins, Di and Mica can do more too.”

  During the past several years, Father began working with us more aggressively on our abilities. He hypothesized we’d be able to do more the older we became, similar to learning a sport or musical instrument, it could be strengthened and honed. With time, absolute control and coordination could be learned. However, that training stopped once the fire hit. Father’s obsession with the memory drug had taken precedence. I understood now what he and Di had been doing in the basement all of those months.

  I shook my head as my memories lined up. It all made sense now.

  I’d tried to practice my new skills on my own, while Father was too preoccupied in the lab with the memory drug, but it had been hard. I didn’t know how to grow my ability. Not really at least. Sometimes I’d get lucky and be able to move small things. Usually, I just ended up with a headache for my efforts, very similar to how I felt right now.