“He won’t run. We told him, warned him they’ll come and what they’ll do but he refused. He’s afraid he’ll Spark again. He thinks he deserves what’s coming.”

I wait for her face to harden, for her to say that’s right, it’s exactly what he deserves, but instead her expression grows more intent.

“I have to prove to him that he’s deactivated,” I explain.

She stares past me. “And I’m the proof?”

“I don’t think he’ll believe it until he feels it for himself, but it would mean getting you two in the same room. I’d be right there. I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”

Her eyes move sharply to my face, but still no outrage or horror, just a penetrating gaze. “Like an allergy test.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You think he’s fully cured? Or just where I’m concerned?”

“I believe he’s cured.” I go over it again, the dramatic release in the hospital when my blood and KMT entered Aiden’s system, the breaking of the tether, the absence of fear in the bandwidth. “I’m certain he is, but … I can’t guarantee it. What I need is the chance to find out. Buy him some time. Get Doctor Sullivan to run some tests. If I can present them with hard evidence, then they have to listen to me.”

“Doctor Sullivan? The guy who–”

“Yes, I called him last night.”

“Won’t he get in trouble?”

“I explained the risks.”

She shakes her head. “When?”

“Are you saying you’ll help me?”

There’s a tremor in her lips but she nods again.

I drop my face into my hand. I can’t speak.

“I’ve thought about this before, Evs,” she says, astonishing me with her calm. “Okay, not this exact scenario, but big-picture wise, and if this were all reversed, I’d want to save my brother too.”

I lift my head to look at her through bleary eyes. “You could get in a lot of trouble. It would mean lying to your folks, lying to your brother.”

The full realisation dawns on her face of what her family will think about her helping me and she whispers, “Jamie.”

“It’s a lot to ask, I know.”

She doesn’t disagree but squares her jaw. “When?”

“Today. This afternoon, if I can get another appointment.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “That soon? Have you really thought this through?”

“I haven’t slept in two days. I’ve done nothing but think, Kit.” I tell her my fears for Miriam, the threat of “discipline” hanging over her already, my need to act before she does, the amnesty that applies to the uninitiated that I hope will buy me a pardon. Though that last part is for Kitty’s sake; I’m past caring about what they’ll do to me. I tell her about my grandparents’ holiday home and my pop’s jeep. I explain that it will take time for the doctor to process Aiden’s blood, but if I can get him out of the detention centre he can go to the holiday home, take the jeep and stay on the road until we have the results.

“What if he still refuses to run, even after the allergy test?”

“I’m busting him out whether he likes it or not.”

Kitty’s mouth falls open. “Right there and then?”

“No. Tonight. And you’ll be long gone. I promise.”

She looks at me like she’s never seen me before. “How exactly would you bust him out?”

“I’m a Shield,” I say, my voice small. “I’ll break in. It needs to look like he’s being taken against his will anyway.”

“You could get killed.”

“He’s in the minimum-security wing of a psych ward, Kit. It’s not a proper jail. They’d taser me at worst. The facility borders the forest. It would be dark and if I’m quick, quiet–”

“Taser you at worst? That’s mental! You could go to jail.”

“They would come for me,” I say, darkly certain.

She presses her palms to her temples. “You have a tracker in your neck.”

“They’d have no reason to be concerned unless my signal showed signs of distress.”

“You mean like being tasered?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“What about Miriam? You’re grounded. Won’t she get suspicious if you don’t come home?”

“I can handle Miriam.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she says with a snort. “And you really think they’ll pardon all this?”

Dizziness hits me again and I lean on the edge of a desk, weak with worry and fatigue. “I don’t think they’d kill me.”

“Very bloody reassuring.”

“Your brother, on the other hand …”

She doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to say that Jamie will understand, forgive me or come to terms with it in time. She knows too well what it will mean to him and lets out a heavy sigh. “God help us both.”

ALLERGY

Kitty fidgets in the sterile waiting area, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She wears a large, form-concealing puffer jacket, but it’s warm in here and she must be uncomfortable. She scratches her head through the woolly beret and tugs it lower at the back of her neck, poking blonde strands up beneath its hem. We only need to delay recognition for a few moments. Worst-case scenario, Aiden realises it’s Kitty and runs screaming from the room, but a second or two should be enough for me to read the bandwidth.

“Sit still,” I whisper, not looking at the security camera in the corner of the ceiling. “At least try to act less suspicious.”

The administrator didn’t quibble about another visit so soon and non-family members are allowed in minimum security, but my anxiety peaked at our second hurdle. Kitty had to sign the visitor’s register and show her ID. Did the court suppression of Aiden’s case cover the details of the Gallaghers’ involvement? Or would they stop her from seeing him? Would Aiden be warned and refuse to see us? I filled in the “relationship to patient” field as “sister and schoolfriend”, hoping that would be enough. The administrator had merely smiled and waved us through the metal detector to the smartly upholstered seats.

A counsellor steps out of the office, a greying, curly-haired woman in jeans and vest, lanyard and spectacles rattling on her thin chest. She smiles a non-smile, lips pressed back, not up, as she takes us in with a brief glance before scanning her clipboard. “Shouldn’t you girls be in school?” But she’s already moving towards the double doors, untangling her ID card from her glasses, waving it in front of the security panel.

“Study period.” My heart punches inside my throat, as though fighting its way out, and I rise on doubtful legs. Kitty too, almost translucently pale, as though she might fall over if anyone looks directly at her. We follow the counsellor through the heavy doors, but there’s no ominous feeling like my last visit with its horror-movie corridor. This has the feel of a clinic. There’s a water cooler and alcoves to the left and right with whiteboards and foam-covered benches as seats. We glimpse an activities room where patients watch television, play table tennis, use computers and help themselves in a small kitchen. Laughter rises from one alcove where a counsellor sits talking with a patient dressed in grey marl, and I feel as if a pressure valve has been released in the top of my head. This place is nothing like the maximum-security psych ward. I notice windows on the left, unlatched and half open.

The counsellor leads us to a corner alcove with a carpeted sitting area that has its own sink and electric jug. No security cameras that I can see. There’s a sliding glass door, framed with blue drapes, that opens onto a small courtyard. The potential ease of access makes me giddy.

She invites us to sit and leaves to fetch Aiden, who has been “settling in well”. As soon as the woman steps away, Kitty hovers to my side, her eyes huge. “Evie – Evie. I don’t know. I’m freaking out.”

Pressing my guilt down deep, I take her by the arms and force her to look at me. “You can do this. I am right here. Nothing is going to happen to you. Aiden’s safe. Today will prove it.” I’m distantly aware of sounding like Miriam managing a crisis; cool, commanding, ruthless. Inside, I’m as certain as a soap bubble. “I need you, Kit. He’s my brother.”