Fletcher wanted to hit something or swear or even just sigh deeply through his mouth. But as it was, and as it had been for the entirety of nearly two and a half days now, he was tied up and silenced with a piece of duct tape, keeping him from doing any of those things.

  He was to the point he’d just take being able to see or hear what was going on, but both of those things were denied him as well, leaving him trapped between two bodies on an uncomfortable seat in a military jeep with absolutely no sense of time except for a break approximately every twelve hours to relieve himself and rehydrate.

  As his frustration with the situation grew, he found a new, fiery anger inside directed straight towards the woman he considered the root cause of all this: his mother. Addy may have been the reason he got dragged into this mess at all, but she was trying to be nice about it.

  Hazel, though?

  No, that woman was actively making his life miserable, or at the very least allowing others to do it. She was a general. Clearly she knew how he was being treated, and she was okay with it. To think there was ever a time in his life he did something as stupid as wish for his mom to reappear in his life.

  The jeep came to a halt. Finally, they were stopping for the night. Even if it meant he got to go sit outside and freeze, it was something different from the rest of the drudgery, and he was willing to take whatever he could get.

  As usual, people assisted in getting him out of his seat, but he was pleasantly surprised when they cut the duct tape from his ankles and allowed him to walk. Normally that didn’t come until the end of the break. He was still blind, deaf, and mute, but his cramped legs got to move more than they had in hours.

  His guards—two of them best he could discern—escorted him away from the vehicle—probably—but Fletcher became confused when he realized the ground beneath him held none of the squishiness associated with grass or even dirt. It felt firm, like concrete or something…

  Relief flooded his system. They were to whatever destination they’d been going towards since leaving the outpost. There might finally be an end to his misery somewhere. A small part of him worried that things were only going to get worse from here, but for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom how.

  Fletcher mentally sighed when after fifteen or so minutes of walking, he was once again placed in a chair with his hands around the back of it.

  He didn’t like the deja vu it was all bringing back to him of the time not so long ago when he had to face his mother for the first time, but luckily there were no other long-lost family members he couldn't account for who he might now be facing.

  That wasn’t necessarily true actually. His father had always claimed that all his grandparents—paternal and maternal—died during the Second Unhuman War, but if his dad lied about his mom, it was possible he’d lied about that.

  Hands touched the back of his head, untying the blindfold, and he prepared himself to face up to four elderly people who, if they were anything like his mother, were likely very disappointed in how he turned out.

  The blindfold came off, and he was relieved to find the smiling face of a not-so-old woman dressed in the dark brown Mixed military uniform. She had hazel eyes and brown hair and looked to be a few years older than himself.

  She removed the earplugs and ripped off the duct tape. “There. That’s better. They sure kept you wrapped up tight.”

  “Thanks.” Fletcher stretched his jaw a bit, enjoying the new found freedom in having all his senses back. They were in a small, tastefully decorated office. Several paintings hung on the walls, and there was a plush rug on the floor.

  “It’s good to see you again, Fletcher.”

  Again? Fletcher racked his brain, but he couldn’t come up with any kind of answer as to who this woman might be or where he would have seen her before. She wasn’t with the Mixhumans who ambushed the bus, and he’d definitely never seen her while at the outpost.

  She noted his confusion. “Oh, right. I guess you don’t recognize me. I’m Nora.”

  “Yeah… That doesn’t help me,” he admitted.

  Nora cocked her head, the wadded up ball of duct tape in one hand. “I’m Nora.”

  Fletcher bit his lip. “Sorry. Let me make this clear: I have no idea who you are. That name means nothing to me.”

  “Nothing? The name ‘Nora’ means nothing?” There was a dangerous edge to her voice.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you,” he said as diplomatically as he could.

  She crushed the duct tape ball. “I don’t believe this. I’m going to kill him. And her. Both of them.”

  “Can you tell me who you are first?”

  Nora glared at him. “I’m your older sister, bozo.”

  “M-my sister?” Fletcher immediately saw the family resemblance to his parents now that she said it. The same eyes as his dad, and the same hair as his mother.

  “Yeah. Sis-ter,” she enunciated slowly. “A female sibling. Someone you share parents with.”

  “I know what it means.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m just… surprised. Why didn’t anyone tell me about you?”

  “I’d like to know the answer to that question too, Fletch.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Fletch. Fletch. Fletch”

  “Mature,” Fletcher said. “What, are you still five? Nevermind. What am I doing here?”

  As if in answer to that exact question, a door opened behind them, and in strode General Anders with her usual stern demeanor.

  “Hey, Mom. Guess what?” Nora’s anger simmered just underneath a false calm. “Fletcher had no idea who I was until about thirty seconds ago.”

  Hazel eyed Fletcher. “None?”

  “None,” he confirmed, wishing he could sink into his chair.

  She shook her head. “Sebastian, what on earth were you thinking?”

  Fletcher wanted to defend his father, but the fact was that Sebastian did kind of screw up by never once mentioning he had a sister. Thinking of the recent surprise family members, he changed the subject.

  “There aren’t any more of you, right?”

  “Sorry?” Nora said. “Like more siblings?”

  “Family members, in general. Who else is out there that I should know about but don’t?” he expounded.

  “I guess just me,” Nora said bitterly. The duct tape which had once been a ball was completely misshapen from her tight fist.

  Hazel put a hand out. “Nora, enough. Your father’s on his way in, and then we can talk about this. Fletcher’s had a long couple of days. Let’s give him a chance to unwind until we can discuss things as a family.”

  His father was on his way in? Sebastian Anders was coming here? So they’d captured him the same as Fletcher, which meant his father was going to be extra pissed off that he was getting handled so roughly on account of his son.

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  She then spoke quietly into her earpiece as Nora glared at him. An officer came into the room and pulled Fletcher from the chair, guiding him into the hallway and through a maze of corridors.

  It was a nice change to not be blindfolded for such things, and Fletcher was impressed with how much nicer this place was compared to the outpost—whatever it was. The walls were still concrete and metal, but everything was better taken care of and they passed a lot more people as they went, none who took any notice of him. At least half of them were obvious Mixhumans, and the rest may have been as well, but with less discernible Unhuman features.

  They took an elevator down several floors to a much cooler part of the base, and Fletcher couldn’t help but sigh when he realized it was a prison block. His guard undid his cuffs and pushed him into a cell which was no more than seven feet by seven feet. An open toilet and sink sat in one corner and low cot holding a bundle of clothes in the other. Every side of it was metal, including a heavy door with a slit at eye level and another at the floor.

  The door closed with a resounding thud, leaving him alone in the cramped space. Finding it plenty warm, he took off his oversized coat and removed the tight boots, though the smell from his feet quickly filled the space.

  Still a prisoner, he thought to himself as he sat down on the cot. He glanced at the bundle waiting there and discovered clean clothes, including underwear and socks. Double checking that there was no one peeping, Fletcher stripped out of the musty cotton scrubs and used the shirt and the sink to wipe himself down so he could at least pretend to feel clean after nearly three days without a shower. After tasting the water to ensure it was drinkable, he chugged as much as his insides could hold and then pulled on the fresh clothes which were all his size.

  It felt good to be in a set of regular clothes again. It also felt good to not be cuffed and hauled around like a bag of flour.

  Fletcher shoved all his dirty laundry in a spare corner, pulled his boots back on, and flopped onto the cot. He wasn’t exactly tired, but there was nothing else to do. He napped lightly until a knock on the door woke him and a tray slid underneath the bottom slit.

  Food.

  He rolled off the bed and eagerly grabbed the tray, already happier to be in this cell than back at the outpost or in the jeep. The only thing he’d had in days was that horrible soup from Addy, and even though the hunk of meat, questionably colored vegetables, and chewy bread weren’t anything stellar, he was hungry enough it might as well have been mana from on high.

  Hunger satiated for the first time in half a week, Fletcher set the tray back on the ground and leaned against the wall. He supposed things could be worse, but he was still very unhappy with his situation. He missed Beam. A lot. And Brenzo and Nanti and Knarf and all of Bren’it’p. As much as he wanted that life back, something inside warned him that he’d never get it.

  His mother clearly had a purpose in dragging him out here, and he was dreading the moment he found out what it was. Based on their few interactions so far, he didn’t think he’d ever actually like her.

  Not to mention his sister hated him, and he had absolutely no idea why.

  The door opened, jarring him from his thoughts.

  “Let’s go,” the guard said, holding out handcuffs.

  Fletcher didn’t bother complaining as the soldier chained his wrists behind him, and then the pair retraced their steps back up to the same office as before. This time Fletcher took notice of more details, including the name plate out front which declared, “General H. Anders.”

  Nora and Hazel were both inside already, and based on the tension in the air, they’d only just finished an argument. Fletcher was returned to the chair at the center of the room where he faced the pair.

  “Do I have to stay cuffed?” he asked to break the silence upon the guard’s departure.

  “Shut up,” Nora said.

  Before Fletcher could say anything else, the door opened once more, and this time it was someone he actually wanted to see.

  “Dad,” he called out, leaning forward only to be reminded of the cuffs.

  It was his father alright, but for some reason, the sight of him put a pit in Fletcher’s stomach. Even worse, his dad ignored him completely to instead march up to his mother. And… he wasn’t a prisoner like Fletcher…

  “Hazel, what’s this? We agreed I’d get to explain things,” Sebastian said. “Set him free immediately. He’s our son, not our prisoner.”

  “You had your chance, multiple times. We do it my way now,” Hazel replied.

  “No. Let me do this. You don’t under—”

  “So he doesn’t know anything?” Nora cut their father off as a malicious glint formed in her eyes. “Nothing?”

  “Nora—” Sebastian started.

  “Let her have this. It’s the least she deserves given you never told her own brother about her.” Hazel grabbed his shoulder, pulling him backwards as Nora came to stand right before Fletcher, bending down so their eyes were level.

  He swallowed, finding his mouth dry as he stared into the hazel eyes of his sister who he managed to piss off within twenty seconds of meeting. That pit in his stomach expanded to swallow his whole midsection.

  Nora reached up and ruffled his hair. “Listen close little brother. You know how most kids come about from two people really loving each other and deciding to make a go at having a family for the betterment of society? That’s not our case.”

  Fletcher forced even breaths. He could handle whatever she was going to say. Nothing could surprise him more than learning about her existence or that his mother still lived.

  “We’re a cover story,” Nora said bluntly. “Hazel Vincent and Sebastian Dixon were two of the greatest soldiers and spies to come out of the Second Unhuman War, and when the Mixed needed a set of spies for a long term mission inside the soon-to-be Human colonies, you’d better believe that’s who they asked.”

  He glanced away from Nora’s cold eyes to where both his parents watched this exchange with little-to-no emotion.

  “What better disguise for a couple of young, refugee Humans than that of a new family? So like the good soldiers they were, Hazel and Sebastian got together, and along came me. As time passed in the refugee camp, it was decided that having only one kid was ‘too suspicious’ which is how you came to be.” Nora had a smile on her face, but not the good kind as she watched Fletcher process the new information.

  “So…” he said slowly, his eyes jumping from his sister to his mother and then to his father. “You and I are just—”

  “A disguise,” Nora finished for him. “A way for two spies to complete their mission with low suspicions.”

  “But then what happened to separate us?” Fletcher’s mind ran through the story Nora told again and again, unwilling to accept it as truth. A cover story? Is that all his father saw him as? Was that really his only purpose? A mountain of emotion overwhelmed him. This meant everything his father ever said about his mother was a lie. Everything he thought he knew about his life was a lie.

  Hazel stepped in to answer that question. “The Mixed needed to know where the Unhumans were taking the Hexed Humans. It was decided I would get a tracker implanted and then get Hexed so they could locate the facility while Sebastian continued on with the original assignment. Two kids was going to be too much for him to handle in addition to his responsibilities so we split you two up to make it feasible.”

  “And what? You flipped a coin for who got who?”

  “Nothing so silly as that. We arm wrestled. I won so I got Nora.” Hazel wore a faint grin, as if remembering fond memories.

  Devastation won out as Fletcher’s throat closed and he looked away, wishing that he could wake up from this nightmare. It was difficult to think back to every good memory he had with his father knowing the man didn’t even want him from the start.

  “Oh my deities. You’re such a wimp.” Nora laughed. “Jeez. He really is a mess. You were right, Mom. I had no idea growing up in the colonies made people so soft.”

  “Knock it off, Nora.” Sebastian ran a hand over his face. “I told you to let me do this. Is this really how you wanted it to go, Hazel?”

  “Please, don’t start that with me.” Hazel turned to face him, arms crossed. “We’re only in this mess because you failed so epically in his upbringing.”

  “It’s not like I didn’t try. You can’t blame me that he cried when I put him in karate or that he always found friends to fight his battles because he was too scared.”

  Fletcher jerked at the handcuffs, his hurt turning to anger. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to go home to a place where people actually cared about him. This had to be the worst family reunion in history.

  His parents launched into a full blown argument, shouting at each other about everything from raising kids to old missions as Nora leaned down to his ear.

  “They do this from time to time. They’ll scream at each other for a few minutes, and then all at once they remember that they’re supposed to be on the same side, and all that anger gets redirected to the nearest target,” she explained in a whisper.

  “So if we get out of here, they’ll blow up on someone else. Got it.” Fletcher nodded and leaned forward so she had access to his cuffs.

  “Not so fast, kiddo. Consider this payback for not knowing who I was earlier.” Nora grinned and backed away.

  “Nora, wait. Take me with you,” he urged quietly, but she never returned. He sat there, silently shifting in his seat to see if he could get his cuffs free of the chair and make his escape before the inevitable conclusion in which his two parents remembered the root cause of the argument to begin with.

  Hazel had her hands in the air as Sebastain gestured broadly to the side. With a little more wiggling, Fletcher got his arms up and around the top of the chair, releasing him from sitting there. He stood up, but he’d taken only a few steps towards the door when his father took notice of his escape attempt.

  “Fletcher Sebastian Anders, you get back here right now.”

  Fletcher winced and turned around to face his two bristling parents.