Page 136 of Tracking Snow

Do we think this because we are obsessed with her? Two asks.

You mean in love with her, Five says with an edge that has never been there before. It appeared after we took Ariel.

The timing fits, Six points out. Not to say there is a connection but...

Don’t be stupid, Two interrupts. He’s also more on edge since we took Ariel even though he agreed it had to be done. Snow is human. Her parents were likely human.

"I don't know why you're interrogating me, but I need you to focus." Mother rises, cutting off our thoughts as she collects her cup and plate and walks through the French doors into the kitchen, the sound of her heels changing on the tile.

My legs carry me inside after her without thinking.

The kitchen is dim after the terrace and the smell of citrus cleaner permeates the air. She sets her dishes in the sink, rinses her fingertips, and dries them on the towel folded over the oven handle.

"I need the one who dream walks to visit the mayor this time. Just a little push, that tiny nudge we need, and the mayor will come around on the rally."

She doesn’t even know which number I am, Three says with dark resentment. I’m just the tool she wants to use today.

We need to focus, we are closer than ever to helping Snow’s friends and becoming normal ourselves. Right Seven?

Strangely, he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t back me up. With a push deeper, I can tell he’s remembering Snow’s face where we left her on the ground next to the werewolf. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the pain tears through him over and over again.

Queenie turns to face me across the white island. "More importantly," a glitter comes into her eyes that is new to me, "I need you to pick up someone and drop them off at the facility."

I struggle to focus as I realize how affected Seven is. I’ve never seen him like this, but he’s also been quieter since we took Ariel. Like he too is unsettled by what we’ve done. Even as we know it will bring us back to mother.

"She works at that dreadful, disgusting magic bar. Poison Apple. You can't miss her. She’s the Black girl with white hair and blue eyes, very striking features."

The floor tilts under me. Cold races from my palms to my elbows, leaving my hands stiff and useless. "What? Why do you want her? She’s not magic."

A brow arches. "Oh right. I forget you’ve been spending a great deal of time in that place, bringing us test subjects."

"You mean people who can still be saved," I correct, uneasiness lurching in me.

"Yes, of course," she says absently. "But no, this one is human. And that is exactly why you need to bring her to me."

I shake my head before she's even finished. "Mother, no. We don't take humans."

She stops. Her knuckles whiten on the edge of the island, then release, and she smooths the front of her skirt.

"First." The word cracks the air. "I said to call me Queenie. Until you are whole, cleansed, and my Logan again, I don't want you to call me Mom, Mother, or any such nonsense."

The cringe tightens all my muscles before I decide anything. Sweat comes up cold between my shoulder blades. I haven’t heard the name we used to go by in so long we almost forgot it.

"And you will do what I say. It is your only chance at salvation. Our only chance at becoming a family again. This girl is important to me. To us."

She stares at me with a blaze in her eyes that reminds us of Seven.

She does the thing she always does. Straightens her spine. Lifts her chin. Lets silence gather around her until the rest of the world shrinks to the size of her approval.

For most of my life, she towered over us from five foot five.

Now I see the trick of it.

The suit. The perfect hair. The careful, measured voice. All of it stacked beneath her until it looked like height.

A strange sensation opens in my chest.

Something loosening. Something lifting. Something terrifying enough that my hands flex at my sides, searching for a command to hold onto.