Logan got an arm around her squirming body, crushing her to him. He squeezed his thighs around hers, bracing his feet on the floor to keep the barstool from sliding. “Shh. Hey,” he said, trying to catch her eyes. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared of me. God, Marie, don’t act like this . . .”

Marie felt numb. Numb, but tingly at the same time, and her heart was going much too fast, and she couldn’t make her throat open to pull in enough air. It was more than scary. It was totally overwhelming. She squirmed harder in his grip, his absurdly heavy frame just enough to keep the barstool—and her—in place.

“Shhh,” he said again. “Just stop. We’re gonna sit down and talk about this like real live grownups. Think ya can handle that?”

“No,” she blurted honestly, sockfeet still slipping over the tiles.

What was going on here? How in God’s name did he know what she was thinking? Could it be? Was she really doing what she’d always dreamt of, making her mutation work in the opposite direction?

“Yeah,” he said. “Least that’s what it feels like to me. What do you think? Can’t ya tell?”

She wasn’t sure. It didn’t hurt. She wasn’t growing weak, losing consciousness like the others always did. But that strange contradictory feeling, numbness and tingling, it was still there. Are you really getting my thoughts?

“Uh huh.”

Oh no. No no no. This was all becoming too intense, too real. Marie’s eyes brightened with tears. “How much?” she said thickly, already growing congested. Her throat hurt, and if it closed up anymore, she didn’t think she’d be able to breathe at all. “H’much d’ya know?” she choked out, feeling like the world was pushing in, compressing her.

“Enough . . .” he paused, mulling over his words. He tried a half-smile. “Enough to know you’re nuts.”