Nick’s DNA tests were inconclusive. Alex was getting worried. Winters was pissed he couldn’t manage it and said Ethan couldn’t go out with them until it was done. There was chatter that something was building in the train yards. So far, it was still in the S.P.A. agent’s hands, but it was only a matter of time. And then the S.P.A. would take over the background check, and it might get out how different Ethan was. Kellen padded in, his border collie fur sleek under the flickering fluorescent lights, his tablet tucked under a strap on his harness. The screen displayed a string of letters and numbers, stark against the dim room. He nudged a pen toward Alex, its plastic cool on the table. “What’s this?” Alex asked, his hazel eyes narrowing, fatigue etched in the lines of his face. Kellen nudged the pen again, his intelligent gaze steady. “Write it down?” Alex ventured. Kellen nodded, his ears twitching. Alex scribbled the code, and Kellen tapped his tablet, switching to the voice program, the robotic tone cutting through the room’s hum. Ethan’s license plate. The car is registered. “And that would have his last name. Good idea.” Alex used his S.P.A. credentials to access the DMV to find out Ethan’s last name and address. The only reference the S.P.A. had for him was a payment for a haunted house that the S.P.A. wanted to burn. It didn’t even list the ghosts or any complaints. Looking elsewhere, he found the house had belonged to a grandfather, and Ethan would have inherited it if the S.P.A. hadn’t stepped in. Ethan had been raised by his grandfather and had lived in the house. Without any complaints, Ethan would have had to request the S.P.A.’s intervention for them to take the house. He hadn’t done that. Nor were there any complaints under his grandfather’s name or real estate agents. Why had they stepped in? Ethan wasn’t active on social media. His schooling was average. He’d been taking college classes but dropped out when his grandfather got sick and never went back. The records only went back as far as kindergarten. There were no records of his grandfather taking custody of him or who his parents were. There was no birth certificate, and his Social Security number had been issued at the age of five. It was as if his whole life began at the age of five. Alex checked the witness protection program. He wasn’t supposed to access it because it could trigger an alert, but he only stayed in long enough to confirm there had been no young children entering it at that time. Was Ethan’s grandfather truly his guardian? Were his parents dead, or was their “accident” a cover for something darker? The absence of records whispered of a hidden truth, a child’s life erased. Alex’s stomach twisted—had Ethan been kidnapped, fed a convenient lie? The S.P.A.’s protocols demanded secrecy for background checks, but this was too big to hide. He texted Ethan. “Come to the security room.” Ethan entered. “Problems?” he asked, his voice wary, his eyes scanning the room’s tense atmosphere. “I don’t know,” Alex admitted, leaning back, tugging the cuffs of his sleeves. “I was running your background check, but there are no records before kindergarten.” Ethan grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his casual ease a stark contrast to Alex’s strain. “Do you need my preschool records? I aced recess and snack time, but nap time wasn’t my thing.” Alex’s lips twitched, but his voice stayed serious. “Your records list your grandfather as your guardian, but there’s no court documentation. What happened to your parents?” “My folks died in a car accident. I was already living with my grandpa,” Ethan said, his grin fading, his fingers tightening. “Are you sure? Sometimes people…” Alex ventured, his voice gentle, probing. Ethan groaned, exasperation breaking through. “Yes, I’m sure. Nothing strange was going on. My mom had health problems, so they decided I’d be better off with grandpa when I was three. They visited often before they died. Everything was done officially with a lawyer and a judge. They died after I started school. They even came to my class. There was nothing creepy or illegal going on.” “Then why are there no records?” Alex pressed, his eyes narrowing. “Probably because you’re looking under Barlow. The records were likely under my parents’ name.” Ethan’s voice was steady, but a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. “You don’t have the same last name?” Alex asked, his brow furrowing. “No. I used to, but my grandpa changed his and mine. He said we were a new family, so we needed a new name.” Ethan shrugged. “What was your old name?” Ethan’s gaze drifted, distant. “I don’t remember. A lot was going on.” Alex paused, his fingers tapping the table. “What about your parents’ graves? That would have their names.” Ethan shook his head, his voice softening. “They were cremated. The urns were destroyed when the S.P.A. burned my house.” “Why destroy the urns?” Alex asked, his frown deepening. “Those wouldn’t anchor ghosts, except maybe for you. I’ll talk to Winters—maybe they were kept for observation.” “Thanks. Their first names were Leon and Nichole. Maybe you can find the accident.” Ethan grinned, a spark of humor returning. “And if there’s anything about me putting worms in spaghetti at school, I was framed.” Alex laughed, the tension easing slightly. “No worms. Sorry for assuming something strange was going on.” Ethan shrugged, his smile wry. “I get that a lot, especially when people learn my uncles weren’t grandpa’s brothers, just distant relatives who hung around. They babysat while he worked. That’s all.” “People love assuming the worst behind closed doors,” Alex said, his voice tinged with empathy, his own family’s scrutiny a bitter memory. “Want to see any of this when I’m done?” “Nah, I know my grades. But maybe if you find my parents’ ashes.” Ethan nodded and left, the door clicking shut. Alex returned to the search, his fingers flying. He found a car accident under Leon and Nichole, the details sparse but enough to unlock Ethan’s past. A birth certificate and adoption records surfaced, tying Ethan to his parents. The S.P.A.’s records on the grandfather’s house, under his original name, were empty—no complaints, no ghosts. Then, a file on Ethan’s parents stopped Alex cold, his breath catching. He texted Kellen and Cassie, his phone’s screen stark in the dim room. “Security room, now. Quietly.” Cassie arrived, her eyes sharp. Kellen followed, tablet in his mouth. “I need help erasing my tracks in the S.P.A. records,” Alex said, his voice low, urgent. Cassie slid into the chair, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Get Nick. He’s a better hacker. Kellen’s too slow.” Alex texted Nick, who stumbled in, bleary-eyed, his dark hair mussed from sleep. “What?” he groaned, leaning against the server rack. “We need you to erase my tracks with the S.P.A.,” Alex said, his jaw tight. Nick groaned, joining Cassie at the computer. “I’ll need caffeine, preferably from a blonde.” “Kellen, get a syringe. It’s faster,” Alex instructed, his voice clipped. He tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. Kellen padded out, returning with a syringe and vial. Nick injected the caffeine, his hands steadying, but his eyes glinted with irritation. “What’s the urgency?” “Do this first. I’ll tell you later,” Alex said, his tone final. Nick and Cassie worked, their fingers flying, the screen a blur of code. Swearing and sniping filled the air, their usual bickering a tense rhythm. Kellen watched, his tablet ready, his gaze flicking between them. They finished, the screen darkening, their tracks erased. Nick shook, his hands trembling, his fangs glinting as he growled, overstimulated by the caffeine. Alex cast a restraining spell, causing the air to shimmer faintly, pinning Nick to the chair. “Cassie, get blood.” Nick snarled, his eyes blazing. “I’m fine.” “You’re overstimulated. You need food,” Alex said, his voice calm but firm. “A blonde,” Nick insisted, his voice rough, hunger sharpening his features. “A bag,” Alex countered. “You’ll kill someone like this.” “I’m fine,” Nick growled, straining against the spell. “What were you doing in the S.P.A. records?” “Ethan’s background check. He should hear this. Don’t tell Jessica.” Although it was daytime, so she shouldn’t be around, Alex activated the room’s ghost wards, their hum a faint sting. Nick hissed, the wards prickling his undead senses, though they couldn’t bar him. Alex called Ethan, who entered with Ash trailing, her eyes curious. “What’s going on?” Ethan asked, eyeing Nick’s trembling form, his voice wary. “I’m fine,” Nick claimed, his voice strained, his fangs glinting. “The problem’s you.” Ethan’s eyes widened, his stance tensing. “Me? What did I do?” “Nothing,” Alex assured him, his voice gentle as Cassie returned with a blood bag, its crimson contents sloshing. Nick tore into it, gulping it down, his shaking easing. “Ethan, what do you remember about the war?” Alex asked softly. Ethan shrugged, leaning against the wall. “What everyone knows. A werewolf’s body was found, the military slaughtered them, other supernaturals attacked, a truce was reached, and the S.P.A. was formed to police them.” “What about the first wolf found?” Alex pressed, his voice careful. “Nothing. Why?” Ethan’s brow furrowed, suspicion creeping in. “That was your mother,” Alex said, his voice heavy, regret in his eyes. Ethan shook his head, his frown deepening. “What? No. My mom wasn’t a werewolf.” “Why did you live with your grandpa?” Alex asked, his tone gentle but insistent. “Because they died.” “But you lived with him before that,” Alex reminded him. “I told you, my mom was sick. She had a seizure, hit my dad, and caused the accident.” Ethan’s voice rose, defensive, his body tensing. “She changed and attacked him,” Alex said, hating the words, his heart sinking. “No. It was daytime,” Ethan argued, his voice shaking, denial hardening his features. If the moon is out during the day, a werewolf can change, Kellen’s tablet intoned, the robotic voice stark, his gaze soft but steady. “It might explain the contagion but not turning, if he was born with it,” Nick said, wiping blood from his lips, his shaking gone, his voice calm but speculative. “And why he can’t be a vampire. Werewolves can’t be turned.” “It doesn’t explain the rest,” Cassie said, her fingers twisting her sweater, her eyes flicking to Ethan. “There might be different causes,” Nick reasoned, his gaze analytical, a doctor’s mind at work. “But the S.P.A. can’t know,” Alex insisted, his voice urgent, his eyes locking on Ethan. “They’ll dissect you.” “I agree,” Cassie said, her voice firm, her usual flippancy gone. It’s okay, kid. We’ll protect you, Kellen’s tablet said, his paw nudging Ethan’s leg, a rare gesture of comfort. “Of course we will,” Ash said, her voice fierce, her small frame radiating defiance. “I’m the team guinea pig.” Ethan shook his head, his face pale, his eyes distant. “I don’t know, guys. I need to think. I’m going home.” He turned, his boots echoing in the quiet, the door clicking shut behind him, bound for the quiet of his home, and answers from his uncles.