Page 14 of The Art of Exiley

“And what other historical celebrities would you like to claim?” I ask.

“Many. Da Vinci, Ada Lovelace—both Makers.”

“No way.” Do the Families know this?

“It’s true. Da Vinci was another who stayed behind. Ada was a Sire recruited later in life; she didn’t die young as your history says. One of her direct descendants is my guildmaster.”

This is far beyond anything I thought I knew. My mind is racing, trying to rearrange what it thinks is true.

“Look, if I haven’t convinced you yet, at least understand this.” He waits for me to look up at him, and the expression in his eyes has grown urgent. The warmth of his body is far too close to mine on the bed. “Someone has been abducting Sires around the globe, but the Makers can keep you safe.”

Why would anyone be capturing Sires? I wonder if it’s related to what I saw in that book and why my parents were so insistent I suppress my abilities.

“Your kidnapping means the Inquisitors know who you are, which means you’re still a target.”

“Wait, Inquisitors? Who are you talking about?”

“The initial group of Inquisitors who were tasked to hunt us down—they never stopped. Our ancestors hoped that they would forget about us, but that hasn’t happened. They’ve passed on their hatred to their children, and we’ve been hiding from them ever since.”

Well, that, at least, he’s totally wrong about. I’ve heard stories from the Families about those Inquisitors, and they definitely don’t exist anymore. Butsomeonetried to kidnap me. Who would want to harm Sires?

“Ada, don’t you get that you’re in danger? We need to get you to the Genesis Institute as soon as possible.”

As soon as possible. No way I’m waltzing out of the country with this stranger. “I can’t go with you rightnow,” I say.

He massages his forehead as if it will somehow give him the words to convince me. “Please,” he says, “you were abducted because you are a Sire. I can help you.”

Sire. It’s still strange to have a name for whatever I am. I try to call up the tingling warmth between my fingers, but nothing happens. I want to know how to control it. And I want to show the Families that I’m worthy of being one of them. But I shouldn’t make any impulsive decisions on my own. Me being kidnapped was not part of the plan. I’ve found the recruiter, got the invite, and now I need to get the hell out of Italy. I just hope that refusing to go with Michael won’t lose me my chance.

“I believe you, but I need to go home to my family before I make any final decisions.”

“That’s fair,” Michael says, resigned. “I’ll send you a formal application to Genesis, and I hope you’ll choose to come.”

I’m relieved that his offer is open, but selling the lie of my indifference is safer than the truth. “I’ll think about it,” I say.

“Until then”—his tone sharpens—“you can’t tell anyone about any of this.”

“Right, hiding for hundreds of years, hunted by dangerous people and all that.”

“We’ve stayed hidden for a long time, but things have changed in recent decades. Your world has airplanes and satellites and the internet—hiding anentire society has become more difficult. Telling anyone is a risk. Can I trust you with this knowledge?”

“Yes.” I avert my eyes and aggressively inspect the scars on my hands.

“Good. Because I really don’t want to have to muddle you.”

I look up sharply. “Muddle me?” Dread churns in my belly.

“Um, can we pretend I didn’t mention that?”

“Michael,” I insist. “What does it mean?”

“It means to make you forget.”

The dread rises into my throat, and I stand, taking a few steps away from him.

“I hate muddling people, but sometimes it’s necessary. Don’t worry. I’m not going to do it to you.”

“You can steal memories?”

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