Sophia was huddled on the front steps, wrapped in a blanket as the police swarmed the Institute. The sun was throwing slanting yellow lines across the steps; they mingled with the shadows cast by clouds passing overhead. Sophia watched the interplay of light and shadow dance across her feet, relishing the cozy feeling of the blanket tucked securely around her shoulders.

Her thoughts wandered to what had transpired in the last hour. The cops were interviewing Camilla and Nate, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before they’d want to talk to her as well. That was going to be an interesting conversation. Maybe her story about being a Telepath would be more believable once they realized what sort of place the Institute was. Maybe she’d have some fun and levitate a chair in front of them or something. How would that be for “proof,” assholes? Took you long enough. How many kids had to suffer in the meantime because you couldn’t be bothered to really look into anything?

She rested her forehead on her knees, sighing. Exhaustion was starting to creep through her body. She wanted to collapse like a broken doll on these front steps and sleep for weeks. She still didn’t know how to feel about what Nate had done. All she really knew was that a quick death for Reynolds seemed grotesquely unjust. Why should he get off that easily? A bullet between the eyes was nothing. He deserved to rot in jail for the rest of his life, to have the shit kicked out of him on the daily by some tattooed motherfucker named Bruno or Mitch.

A shadow fell over her. The air stirred with a sweet and familiar scent, and she knew it was Jude before she glanced over and saw him sitting next to her. Sophia pulled opened her blanket; he scooched under it, his arm pressing against hers as she wrapped the cloth around them both. She leaned her head on his shoulder, appreciating the safeness, the warmth, the way he smelled like spring morning. They sat like that for a long time before he finally spoke.

“You okay?”

“Nope.”

“Figured. Do you need anything from me?”

“Just stay here a little longer.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They watched a flock of birds rise up from the distant trees; they circled overhead for a moment before plunging back down into the hills.

“People inside are saying Reynolds is dead,” Jude said slowly.

“People inside are correct.”

“What happened, Soph?”

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“What are people saying happened?” she asked.

“That he was shot. The cops wanna to talk to you, but we can just take off running if you like.”

She grinned up at him. “How far do you think we’d get before they tasered us?”

“We could haul ass to the tree line at the very least.”

“I think I’ve had enough of running, but thanks for the thought.”

She stood up, shedding the blanket. Jude looked up at her, his brow pinched with concern.

“Maybe you should ask for a lawyer or something?”

“Yeah, sure. I have all those Harvard Law connections after all.”

“I’m just saying, smartass.”

She laughed weakly and then shook her head. “I’m done keeping secrets.”

“But everyone is entitled to a few.”

A smashed pot of blood and potpourri seared through her mind. A dead homeless man in an alleyway. All the people she’d exploited for food and lodging with her mental scrambling. She shook her head again.

“I’ll see you later---hopefully.”

“I’m keeping your blanket,” he called as she walked back into the building.

The lobby was a hive of activity. Sophia stood there for a minute, blinking and overwhelmed, before she spotted someone beckoning to her from across the bustling room.

“How are you feeling?” Camilla asked when Sophia had reached her and a tall stranger standing next to the window. “Do you need to be examined by a medic?”

“I’m okay for now. Who’s this?”

“I’m Stilly,” said the stranger, turning towards her with a smile. “I’m a detective. I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s okay?”

“I’d like to ask you one first.”

“Sure.”

“How’s Nate?”

Stilly looked at her for a moment. His face was impassive, but the shadows of a thousand emotions flitted behind his eyes in a matter of seconds.

“He’s in custody,” he said finally.

“It doesn’t look good for him, does it?” Sophia asked.

“No,” Stilly said, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly beneath his baggy trench-coat. “It doesn’t.”

“You’re his friend, aren’t you?”

“Are you reading my mind right now?” he said with a smile. When she looked startled, he laughed. “I’ve been having an interesting conversation with Miss Arlett here. I can’t say I understood all of it, but I’m a sucker for sci-fi stories and yours is pretty good.”

“I’m sorry I dragged Nate into this,” Sophia began, but Stilly held up his hand to stop her.

“Reynolds made his own decisions. Besides, if you hadn’t reach out to him, God only knows what would’ve happened to you and these poor kids.” He shoved both hands in his pockets and heaved a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his stomach. “Well then.” His voice became brusque and business like. “Are you ready for me to take your statement?”

“I’ll find you guys a quiet room so you won’t be interrupted,” Camilla offered.

“I can’t promise anything, Sophia,” Stilly said, “but I want you to know that if you tell me everything you know about the Coppulas, and about what you’ve seen in this place, I’ll recommend that the D.A. cut you a deal. You’re still very young. And God knows you’ve been through enough already.”

He swept a hand through his hair and gazed around, muttering something under his breath that sounded like “I mean Jesus.” She wondered what Camilla had told him about her.

“I don’t want anyone doing me any favors,” Sophia said. “But I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Alright then,” said the detective, motioning for her to follow him.

Camilla put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and together they followed Stilly out of the crowded lobby.