Zero to Love by Em Petrova Page A

gut. Her mother didn’t look like her but like Elijah. Deep down, she’d always hoped that her mother was fair and red-haired like her.
    Wringing her hands together, Magda stepped toward the lamp, drawn to the golden glow. “My earliest memory is of sitting on a set of steps, holding Elijah’s hand.”
    “Yes. It was shortly after we lost your mother.”
    “What about the Free Wills? When did it happen—where? Why have you kept this information from me?” She whirled to face him again, and her heart clenched at the sight of him openly crying.
    In the past she would have gone to him and slipped her arms around his shoulders. But not today. Today she was a woman needing answers.
    “They came upon you on the street when you were walking home from school. Your mother and I never felt comfortable allowing you and Elijah to walk the two blocks alone, but we live in a safe area, and it was during the day.”
    Magda chewed at a sore spot on her lower lip—a reminder of Monroe’s rough thoroughness with her today. Her thirst returned with a vengeance. Casting a look around the room, she didn’t find a pitcher of water or half-drunk soda.
    “Why didn’t they steal from Elijah? Why only me?”
    Her father looked at the thick, cream-colored carpet.
    “Daddy.”
    Instead of looking at her, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. It was slightly domed, cut into small squares and gilded to reflect light. She loved lying on her bed and watching the reflections play over her, giving the illusion she was underwater.
    “I don’t know why, daughter. It was a horrific event that weighs on me daily. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but there is a risk…”
    She took a hasty step toward him. “Of what?”
    “That they’ll come back for you. Once they touch your mind, they will always come after more. It’s why Elijah and I won’t let you go around town on your own.”
    Too late. They’ve found me, and they want the rest of my mind.
    She shuddered.
    Her father met her gaze, his watery. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped to keep it from you forever. Do you see I did it to protect you?”
    “Yes. But it wasn’t a Mindchanger who did this to me—”
    At the mention of the supernaturals, his face mottled purple again. His eyes blazed. “They’re all the same, stealing from us, giving us thoughts and memories not our own.”
    She shook her head. “Not all are greedy parasites. I know one—”
    Rage bloomed into hectic spots of color on his cheeks. “You know one?”
    “Yes.”
    He looked wildly around the room. “Where is Elijah? Who brought you home? Why are you traveling the city alone?”
    “I was safe,” she said, a smile teasing the corner of her lips at the thought of Monroe.
    Her father spun and grappled with the door handle. “Don’t you leave this room, Magda Brunelli. I need Vincent. I need to talk to Vincent!”
    He whipped open the door and slammed it behind him.
    Fury slicked her insides, but her mouth was drier than it had ever been. She needed a drink—now. And while he’d ordered her to remain in her room, she was a grown woman. He had no control over her.
    Still, she had no desire to go into the kitchen for a drink and overhear her father’s phone conversation with Uncle Vincent.
    She stormed into her adjoining bathroom and grabbed a cup. She filled it five times and drank it off, but it did nothing to slake her thirst. What she needed was something sweet. Juice.
    I need Monroe.
    * * * *
    “Monroe,” Keefe growled into his ear through the cell phone.
    “Yeah?” Before the word left his lips, he read Keefe. From clear across the city, through millions of thoughts clouding the atmosphere, he saw the words in Keefe’s mind.
    “You’re hurting me.” Monroe won’t like these bruises.
    “Fuck. Where is she?”
    “Must be upstairs with the thought catcher. I’ve never encountered one before. Why didn’t you tell me?” Keefe asked.
    Standing in the seedy back alley, Monroe waited for his friend Hale to