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a
week. How my sole reason for living became Christine Cecilia Gavin. And she was
still my sole reason for living. It was just a wee bit stressful that my sole
reason for living had an insanely dangerous and complicated life, seemingly
cursed before she came out of the womb.
    They
are rejoicing over your witch’s blood.
    Hearing Lydia and Christine reading the
acceptance letter had brought Devin’s last words back to me. Of course, I was
happy for her, but college meant she would be out of the house all day, and
that made Devin’s message seem like a threat.
    My
witch , had to be Chris.
Devin and the rest of them thought she was one of us. The they in his statement had to be Kamon and his triplets. Devin was
well acquainted with them. He and Shane knew Carter, William, and Owen Yates
well enough to tell them apart. That should’ve tipped me off, along with a lot
of other things I chose to ignore.
    The triplets were test-tube babies,
copies in every way, but had real names and led real lives as the triplet sons
of Dr. Kamon Yates.
    Chris didn’t know the whole glass cage
thing was just for intimidation for what Kamon called Temple: the nights he
opened his arms to anyone willing to serve him and also accepted living
sacrifices in his honor.
    Other than Temple nights, the copies came
and went as they pleased, went to school, even had Facebook and Twitter
profiles. I couldn’t be the one to tell her. What her mother did would hurt
even more if she knew Kamon had kept his sons and, at least in some warped way,
treated them like sons.
    The they could’ve also included Remi. Devin and Shane knew of her too. They called her the pet . The triplets, their dad, and
his pet would want to rejoice over Christine’s blood. Devin’s warning made me
think they were planning to kill her, and now that she would be out in public
all day, following a predictable schedule, it was all I could think about.
    My phone rang, and Chris woke up for the
quickest moment, and then she fell back into her coma.
    “Yo,” I said, taking my phone to the
balcony.
    “Good. You’re up,” Paul said. “Missed
you.”
    “Don’t make this weird, dude.” He laughed
and Emma spoke to me in his background.
    “Em, a little privacy,” he said. “This is
boy talk.” She called him lame, and a door slammed. “So I hear you’re dating a
college girl.”
    “Is that why you called? I’m hanging up.”
    “It’s not. I just wanted to check on you.
I knew you wouldn’t be asleep. You’re my friend, and you’re going through
something. So don’t be a dick to me.” I sighed and dropped the act. I didn’t
want to hang up. Paul was a great friend. I’d known we would hit it off on that
first day in New Orleans. He was hilarious and secretly thoughtful. He was like
me without a filter.
    “I’m good, man,” I said. “I really am.”
    “How was the testimony part? Did anyone
deny it?”
    “No. How could they?”
    “Good point. And Devin? How was that?”
    I looked through the window. Chris had
rolled to my side of her bed. “It was weird. But … uh … he said something about
Chris, I think. Tell me what you think about this. He said, ‘They are rejoicing
over your witch’s blood.’ What does that sound like to you?”
    “Like a last-ditch effort to get to you.
Don’t put too much thought into it. You know how you are.”
    “What does that mean?” I asked.
    He snorted. “It means you have OCD and
you obsess over everything.” I laughed. “I’m not joking. I bet you a million
dollars that you have a glass of water on your nightstand and it’s slightly
off-center and a little less than half full.”
    I looked over my shoulder. He was right.
“No,” I said. “There’s no glass.”
    “Liar. Look, get Devin off your mind.
You’re not capable of sort of thinking about something, Sparky. You’ll
ruminate. So just don’t go there. You know what should be on your mind? That
hot girl you’re sleeping with but not sleeping