“Your parents would have been very proud of the young man you’ve become, Bryn. You’re going to love college.”

Bryn Ashton cupped his mug of hot chocolate and eyed his housemother warily. “I sense a but coming on.”

“Buuuut…can you please curb that sharp tongue of yours. Make some friends. Be nice.”

“I knew the marshmallows on the top of this were a bribe.”

“Bryn…”

“I know! I only get one chance and I won’t mess up, promise. That’s if I don’t turn into some monster freak tomorrow. There used to be a time when people looked forward to their eighteenth birthdays, right?”

Annie Cormac shook her head. “In the thirty years I’ve been running group homes, I’ve not had a single kid turn into a monster. A couple of werewolves and one vamp. That’s it. All three of them have gone on to successful careers and happy lives. They are not monsters. No one affected by the gene mutation is, and I won’t have you using that word in this house.”

“Sorry, Annie.”

“I should think so. I know the virus killing your parents has been hard but remember, they were part of the team that found the cure.”

“I don’t remember them, you know that. I was a baby when they died, and no different from thousands of other kids whose parents were taken. I’m not complaining.”

“Fifty years to find a cure. So many deaths.”

“And so many people with traits we all thought were the stuff of movies and books. What if I…”

“None of that now. Even if you do turn out to be lupine or sanguine, it’ll make little difference. You’ll have to take an additional minor at college is all, so that you learn to cope with the changes to your body. A good portion of men in the military, police force and fire service are wolves now. Vamps make great doctors and scientists.”

“But what if I’m…different?”

“Oh, honey, other changes are so rare that’s very unlikely. You’ll wake up tomorrow and be your usual grumpy self.”

“I can’t imagine how much of a crap fest it would be to discover you can suddenly read minds or predict the future like some kind of oracle.”

“Which is why people like that have to be protected by the authorities. How many seers or augurs have you heard of in your lifetime? I can only recall one, so stop worrying. You’ve got more chance of winning the lottery.”

“I guess. How does the gene even know when a person reaches eighteen? Is it in there putting crosses on a calendar or something—like its counting down to Christmas?”

“That’s one of several mysteries yet to be solved. Same as why the virus was only fatal to certain age groups while others didn’t even know they had it, and why the virus only activates the gene in males.”

“There’ll be lots of kids like me at college, won’t there?”

“Sure will. Fifty percent of kids in your generation grew up in group homes just like this one.”

Bryn drained his mug. “I want tomorrow to be over so I can get back to worrying about my college roommate turning out to be a trombone player. Normal stuff.” He shoved his chair back. “Thanks for the chocolate, Annie. I’ll be in my room embracing my Goth tendencies.”

“Keep the volume down.” Annie pulled him into a hug. “What will be, will be, Bryn. Try to get some sleep.”

Bryn left the familiar warmth of the kitchen and climbed the three flights of stairs to his attic room. As the current oldest ward of the group home, he had a room to himself. Everyone else had to share, which he’d also had to do until the previous eldest had moved out two years before. In a house full of noisy kids ranging in age from four to seventeen, his room was his sanctuary. It was a quiet place to study and to dream. He couldn’t wait to leave for college and the government funded full-ride scholarship that would allow him to study biochemistry. One day he wanted to join the team researching the effects of the virus that had taken his parents. The cure was a recent discovery and, though future generations might be protected by infant vaccination, it didn’t work on those who had already turned.

It was getting late and he should sleep. Tomorrow there would be a cake and gifts, even though for him the celebration would be tinged with sadness. Reaching eighteen meant that his time at the group home was coming to an end. It was all he’d ever known, but he had his college place and in two weeks would be moving on. He had to pack up his life into a few boxes and leave Annie and the other kids behind. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

His room was a reflection of his personality. The walls were covered with posters of indie rock bands begged from the downtown record store. His shelves were stacked with an eclectic mix of books on topics as diverse as archeology to zoology and fiction covering everything from horror and thrillers to the classics. Reading had always been an escape and Bryn’s part-time job bagging groceries at the neighborhood store had funded his addiction.

He picked up a framed photo of his parents. The smiling people staring back at him were strangers, but he had inherited his mother’s black hair and his father’s green eyes and pale skin. The mixture of Irish and Hispanic heritage from generations back had come through strong in him. He’d been a late child, a welcome surprise after years of trying, and because of that his grandparents had all passed on. Neither of his parents had any siblings, which meant that when the virus took them, he was left alone. If he had any relatives anywhere, he didn’t know about them and presumably they had no idea he existed. No one had ever tried to claim him.

After kicking off his battered boots, Bryn stretched out on his bed. He didn’t undress because he had yet to make a pre-sleep trip to the bathroom, which was on the floor below. He had on black jeans and a black T-shirt—there were no other colors in his wardrobe. He spotted a hole in one sock and wiggled a pale toe. Maybe vamping out wouldn’t be too bad. He tongued an incisor. It’s not like sanguines turn into bats or anything, just need more red meat than most and high factor sunscreen. Don’t think I’d make a great wolf though, they’re way too energetic. Those with the wolf gene were stronger, faster and usually hairier than an average human. They did not howl at the moon, silver didn’t kill them and they didn’t turn into slavering beasts. No painful bone cracking or shredding of clothes. All the myths and legends are a crock of shit but they have to mean that the genes have been active in the past. They must have been dormant and the virus reactivated them somehow. That was the working theory anyhow. Meanwhile, boys reaching maturity continued to approach their birthdays with trepidation.

“Annie’s right, of course. Fuck all I can do about it,” Bryn grumbled. He cracked a yawn and took that as a signal to head for the bathroom. Morning would come soon enough and he wanted to face it with a clear head.

* * * *

“Nightmares suck.” A few short hours later, Bryn lay in bed staring at the ceiling. A crack in the plaster traveled the full width of the room. Bryn had named it San Andreas and had watched its progress over the last two years with morbid curiosity, wondering if he’d wake one morning covered in plaster and looking at the sky. Light filtered through the institutional gray blinds, telling him his birthday had arrived. Hmm, don’t feel any different. He raised one arm. Not any hairier. A peek beneath the covers showed him a chest still bereft of a single, solitary hair. “Not a wolf then.” He prodded his teeth. They didn’t seem any pointier than usual and he wasn’t craving raw steak for breakfast. “Not a vamp either. Wow. Totally normal. Whatever that is.” Pushing away the remnants of his bad dream from his mind, he swung his legs out of bed. He sat for a moment, shrugged, then went through his usual morning routine before dressing and heading for the kitchen.

The moment he walked in, ten eager faces turned his way. Expressions ranged from boredom to curiosity to outright fascination. Bryn held up a hand. “Before any of you brats say a word, no, not a wolf, not a vamp. Just me.”

He was swarmed by a crowd of kids who all apparently needed to check him over in person. Summoning his last ounce of patience, he stood still for an entire minute before shedding them. The youngest he tucked under one arm before depositing her on a chair where she dissolved in giggles.

“Annie, please tell me there’s coffee.”

“Do I look like your maid? It’s in the pot. Pancakes are on the way.”

Bryn dragged himself to the coffee pot, poured a mug, downed it then got himself a refill before he resumed his seat. He was no longer the center of attention and conversations carried on around him. He poured juice for the little ones then broke up a fight over the cereal boxes. His head pounded.

“Didn’t sleep well, huh?” Annie deposited a plate of fluffy pancakes in front of him. “Birthday boy gets the first stack.”

“Thanks, Annie, and no, I didn’t. Weird dreams.”

The familiar chaos of breakfast carried on around Bryn and he let it wash over him. The other kids were great but his tolerance was limited, particularly first thing in the morning. Annie slid two Tylenol his way.

“Lifesaver.” He swallowed the tablets with more coffee.

“You should switch to decaf and I can’t believe I need to say that to an eighteen year old.” Annie waved a batter-coated spatula at him.

“Noted.”

Next came gifts. There were pictures and crafts from the littlies and the three biggest had pooled a few dollars to get him a black ceramic takeout cup with a skull and cross bones on it. “I love it.” Bryn was genuinely touched. “It’ll be so useful at school. Thanks, guys.”

Annie gave him a hand-knitted black scarf with a single pale blue line across each end. “It’ll get cold at Harvard.” She hugged him and suddenly he was mobbed with lots of warm bodies, all demanding hugs. Tears pricked at his eyes.

“You guys! Stop!” The kids drifted away and Bryn was left with Annie. “That was…sweet.”

“They like you, despite that emo façade you put on.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll have cake after dinner tonight, okay?”

“Yeah. I’m full of pancakes now.”

“I’ve put a little money in the bank account we set up for you…no arguing, it’s what you’re due. A little kick-starter for college books, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“That’ll do. How’s the head?”

“Pounding. Strange—I don’t tend to get headaches.” Bryn knuckled his temples. “Think I’ll go lie down. Try to catch up on some of the sleep I didn’t get last night. Now I know I’m not…special.”

“You’ll always be special to me, sweet cheeks.” Annie ruffled his hair.

Bryn made gagging noises. “Stop already!”

“Go to bed.”

The next thing Bryn knew was someone shaking him awake. He groaned and cranked an eyelid. “Annie?”

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You’ve been out cold for eight hours. You need to get your rear downstairs.” Annie yanked open the drapes, flooding the room with light. “I hope you haven’t picked up the flu or something.”

“Ow, fuck!” Bryn hid beneath the covers. Sleep had not improved his headache.

“Language, young man. The screening bureau officer is downstairs eating my cookies. You need to come show him the gene hasn’t activated.”

“Sorry. Okay. On it. Give me two seconds.” He winced at the door closing, the noise pounding his skull like a jackhammer. He grabbed his shades and put them on. Gently. Shielding his eyes from the light helped a bit. Must have been more stressed out about today than I realized. This has to be a migraine.

Bryn counted it a win that he made it down the stairs without falling on his ass. Annie was waiting with the official in the TV room. They were both seated on the sectional, chattering away like old pals.

“Here he is, Charlie. The latest of a long line.”

“And no indications?”

“None. He’s his normal teenage self.”

“Oh dear. Congratulations on your birthday, Bryn. I’m Charles Donovan from the screening bureau and this visit is nothing to worry about.” He held out a hand and Bryn shook it.

“Hey.”

“I’m going to give you a finger prick for a blood sample. It’s a quick and easy test for gene activation which shows us sanguine or lupine indications. A visual assessment isn’t always accurate.”

Bryn slumped on the sectional, trying not to look as belligerent as he felt. “This is pointless.”

“Probably,” Charlie said. “But wouldn’t you rather have it noted on your record that you have no active gene so that you don’t have people hounding you in the future?”

“I suppose.”

“Be nice, Bryn.” Annie’s warning tone was enough to have him sitting a bit straighter.

Charlie got out his testing kit. “Don’t worry, you won’t miss the tiny bit I’m going to take.” He jabbed Bryn’s middle finger pad then collected a bead of blood on a dropper that went into a tiny test tube of clear liquid. “It’s red at least.”

“You say that to everyone, don’t you?” Bryn muttered.

“Sure do. Perk of the job. Right, I’m looking for what color the liquid changes to. Lupine goes green, sanguine is purple. No gene change is golden yellow.” He shook the tube.

“So what the fuck is sky blue?” Bryn felt sick. He stared at the little glass vial.

“I…need to make a call. Don’t move.” Charlie went into the hall.

Bryn watched him go. “Annie, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” She came to sit next to him on the couch and grabbed his hand.

A pulse of sharp pain shot through Bryn’s already throbbing head and his vision dimmed. In his head he had a picture of Annie standing in the dock of a courtroom facing a judge. She looked resigned. Bryn yanked his hand away in horror and the image faded.

“If you go now, you’ll have time to grab a few things and get out through the back yard,” Annie whispered. “I’ll tell Charlie you went to the bathroom.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Because if that test is showing that you have some rare variation of the gene, you’ll be taken by the security services and put through God knows what kind of experimentation while they work out what you can do.”

“And if I run, they’ll hunt me down. When you touched me Annie, I saw…well, let’s just say things wouldn’t work out well for you either.” It was tempting to try it. Bryn thought he could make a good go of disappearing, but he couldn’t do that to Annie. If she was blamed, what would happen to all the other kids in her care? He wasn’t that much of an asshole.

“You shouldn’t think about me. I’d happily go to court for you. Be selfish. Go.”

Bryn slumped on the couch. “No. Not an option.” Tentatively, he touched Annie’s hand. He flinched at the pain but now the image in his head was of a smiling Annie watching over kids playing in the yard. His vision cleared and he sighed. “I guess Harvard is off the cards. Fuck.”

When Charlie came back into the room, he seemed tense. “Your test result is…unusual, Bryn. You felt fine this morning?”

“Yeah, apart from a headache. I didn’t sleep well last night. It got worse, though.”

“Do you know what time you were born?”

“Eight-thirty in the morning,” Annie contributed. “It’s in his records.”

“Gene activation can be very precise. The change must have happened after you got up this morning. Would you take off your sunglasses for me?”

Hand trembling, Bryn removed the glasses. The light hurt his eyes.

“Oh my.” Annie stared at him.

“What?” Panicked, Bryn went to look in the mirror on the mantel over the fire. “Fuck me.” His eyes were a far brighter shade of green than they had been and they seemed backlit, glowing like a cat’s in the dark. He put the glasses back on. “They weren’t like that earlier.”

“There’ll be a car here for you shortly. More tests will need to be done. I can come with you to your room, if you want to pack a few things.”

“When will I be back?” Bryn asked the question even though he already knew the answer.

“Not sure. It could be a while.”

He means never. Why me? Bryn wanted to scream but decided it would hurt his head too much. “Fine. You and the kids will have to share that cake, Annie.”

Charlie trailed him up the stairs then stood in the doorway while Bryn threw a few things in a duffel.

“You thought about running, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“What stopped you?”

“Annie’s been the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had. She doesn’t deserve trouble because of me.”

“Yeah, she’s one of the good ones.”

“Has this ever happened to you before… I mean the blue reaction?”

“Never. I’ve had a few wolves in my time and one or two vamps. This was new.”

“Great. Just fucking great.” Should have bought that lottery ticket.

“You done? Let’s go see if the car’s here.”

Some of the other kids had gathered in the hall. There was a clamor of questions. Annie ushered them away and raised a hand in farewell. “Good luck,” she mouthed.

Bryn gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile rather than a grimace. When the door closed behind him, it had an air of finality.

“They’re here,” Charlie announced.

A black SUV with heavily tinted windows drew up at the curb. Two armed men in black fatigues got out and one walked over. The other stayed by the vehicle, scanning the street as if he expected an attack to come out of nowhere at any moment.

“This him?” the man addressed Charlie.

“What am I, invisible?” Bryn muttered.

“It is. I sent through his test result already.” Charlie took a step back.

“He give you any trouble?”

“Seriously? Does it look like I did?” Bryn made a conscious effort not to be intimidated by the excessive amount of firearms the guy carried.

“Get in the fucking car.”

“A please wouldn’t go amiss.” Bryn stomped down the path. He tossed his duffel into the back seat then climbed in after it. He was followed by one of the men in black and before Bryn could come up with a suitable epithet, the guy stuck him with a needle. “What the actual…” He didn’t get to finish the sentence before the lights went out.