Thanks to Gramps, Caitlin O’Neal had been chain-smoking since she was sixteen. He’d let her smoke her first cigarette when she was seven, the same year he’d died. Gramps had not been a nice man. If Caitlin had been able to go back in time, she would have kicked him in the balls. But the habit had outlived him, and the nicotine beat back the panic trying to fill her throat. Calm down, Caitlin. There’s a way out of this. There has to be. Where was her father? It had been an hour since Uncle Teferi had taken him away. Uncle Teferi had called this narrow room the “guest quarters,” but since there was no window and only two narrow twin beds, it was just a cell. She’d been afraid of being locked up since the night she’d first met Fana at the border of the woods, when Fana had given her a backpack hiding an ounce of her blood. But she hadn’t expected to be locked up here, a place that had been a second home most of her life. Casey had warned her. Even without really knowing, her twin had known about the Glow.
