After a shaky breath, she nods and takes the chair with its back to the corridor, curling her shoulders and pinning her hands between her knees. Aiden won’t know who she is until he crosses the room. I position two more chairs to make an efficient triangle, coffee table in the middle as a psychological barrier, and sit so he’ll see my profile on approach.

I try to relax and let my focus turn inwards. The bandwidth crackles and clears. I’m aware of my pulse, Kitty’s too – a chaotic gallop. I anticipate Aiden’s signal, so different from when we shared Kitty as a Spark, like it’s been scrubbed clean. When I feel it, my hope soars. He’s coming. He’s coming. Either they haven’t told him Kitty’s here or they have and he’s coming anyway. The second option is a long shot, but wishing for it makes me hopeful. I have to control my face. I look at Kitty and she stiffens. I hold her gaze and reach deeply into the bandwidth as though my signal is an elastic mass that I can push out from myself. I picture it pulsing in a widening diameter. Aiden’s signal is clear, distinct like a person’s voice is from another’s. I guess he’s at the end of the corridor and note the strength in his signal as he nears. “Lower your head.”

Kitty leans forwards, elbows on knees, head in one hand, phone in the other, as though absorbed in urgent text messaging. I get to my feet as Aiden appears behind her, his hair neatly combed, face clean-shaven, complexion bright, a nice-looking guy. Despite the tension of readiness that tingles through my shoulders and legs, my heart gives a squeeze at the sight of him. His expression adjusts from caution to exasperation as soon as he sees me.

“Hey,” I say, dry-mouthed.

He doesn’t reply, retaliatory silence.

“Half an hour.” The grey-haired counsellor leans in from the corridor. She hooks a clipboard on the wall inside the alcove and nods at the counter. “Help yourselves to coffee. I’ll be down the hall.” She pats Aiden on the back, a little prompt, and he steps towards us.

Deep in the signal mix, I comb for any hint of threat or hostility, but beyond the surface frustration in Aiden’s face, the bandwidth seems untroubled. I start forwards, moving between him and Kitty’s chair.

Aiden narrows his eyes, startling hazel at this proximity. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“I’m sorry,” I begin, struggling to gather my wits. “Miriam and I – we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

I check the wide corridor but the counsellor has gone to an admin station, busy at the desk. “Aiden, just give me five minutes.” I put one hand on his shoulder and reach behind me with the other until I find Kitty’s. A small electric charge shoots up my arm, his signal meeting mine, amplifying the low buzz of the pins and needles in my spine. I brace for my body’s command to throw him back against the wall.

There is no command. No suggestion for attack or defence, just the hum of a familiar signal. The second ends as Aiden’s gaze slides past me and he finally realises it’s not Miriam in the chair. He jerks away, clutching his arm where I touched him. Kitty gasps, sitting bolt upright. He scrambles backwards but I block the way. There’s nowhere for him to run.

Kitty grips the arms of her chair as though flung back by an irresistible g-force.

“What have you done?” Aiden holds his hand out like he’s facing a loaded gun.

Poised on the balls of my feet, I wait for the shadow, the threat in the bandwidth, but there’s nothing. Only static clouded by the mayhem of my thundering pulse. “Tell me what you feel.”

Aiden’s eyes snap back and forth from Kitty to me. “Why would you do this?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling.” I’m terrified – terrified the counsellor will come up the corridor, that Aiden won’t listen, that he’ll cry out and run. “Tell me.”

He edges away till he’s backed into the corner behind the other chair, sweat beading his forehead. “I don’t know. I don’t know. What have you done?” His face contorts. “Goddamn it, Evie. If you’ve – if this makes me–”

A loud crack echoes in the alcove. Kitty suppresses a breathless squeal. Aiden and I look down. He’s broken the spine of the chair he’s gripping; it folds in beneath the upholstery. “Shit.” He releases his hold. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”

Footsteps in the corridor.

“Please. Please don’t go. It’s safe. I’m sure of it. Just let me explain.”

His eyes move over my face, his brow furrowed. He shifts out of Kitty’s line of sight and mouths, What if I hurt her?

The whole room spins. “You won’t; I won’t let you.”

“Is everything okay?” the counsellor asks behind me.

Aiden looks undecided.

With a strangled laugh, I gesture at the chair and rub my butt cheek. “I’m so sorry. I only sat in it, the back went and I fell. Aiden helped me up.”

She comes in, frowning at the crippled backrest. “You’re not hurt?”

“No.” I chuckle, half-choked, my eyes imploring Aiden to stay.

“Is there a problem?” The counsellor focuses on Aiden.

He shakes his head. “It just broke. I helped her.”

The counsellor studies his face a moment before taking the broken chair, clicking her tongue and leaving us to it. “There are more across the hall.”

Alone again, Kitty presses her clasped hands to her lips. Aiden stands paralysed and I hover between them. “It doesn’t feel the same, does it?”

He swallows thickly. “It’s no guarantee.”

We stare at each other like we’re both waiting to see what he’ll do.

Kitty rises behind me.

Aiden flinches.

“I’ll, um, get another chair,” she says.

He watches as she crosses the hall, his voice a low hiss. “This is insane. I thought she was your friend. Why would you put her in danger? Why would she come here?”

It’s like a prelude to the conversation I expect to have with Jamie, except Aiden’s not throttling me. “Look at her and tell me what you feel, in here.” I startle him by pressing my palm to his stomach but he pushes my hand away, his breathing shallow, as Kitty returns.

I take the seat from her and place it where the broken one had been. “Can we all sit down?”

Kitty slips into her seat, looking pale and uncertain.

Aiden pulls the chair further away. He sits with his eyes to the floor, his whole body rigid.

“You’re not going to do anything.” I take my seat. “It’s safe.”

“How do you know?” he says, almost a growl.

“I was Kitty’s Shield. I can sense danger and read your intent. Your signal’s clear, Aiden. You’re not going to hurt her.”

Gradually, he lifts his head. “My signal?”

“We don’t have time to go into it. Basically, you and I are genetically engineered to be the way we are. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

His face tracks through several expressions ranging from disgust to despair. “I don’t know what that means, but you cannot sit there and tell me–” His voice cuts out and the rest comes strangled, “It can’t be made right … what I did. And you just bring her here like it’s nothing.”

My insides squirm.

His face screws up. “Exposing her like this …”

“Evie didn’t make me come,” Kitty says, her voice uneven but determined. “I mean, she asked me but it was my choice. I’m sorry if this makes things bad for you.”

“You’re sorry? Why would you apologise to me? How can you stand being near me?”

I can’t deny he has a point. It’s jarring to have them both in the same room and not feel the need to do anything about it.

“Look.” She pulls her hat off and removes the bulky coat, trying to sound firm despite the warble in her voice. “I trust Evie and you should listen to her.”

He groans and covers his face.

“Give me your hand.” I reach out to Kitty and she takes it obediently. “Aiden.”

He peers through his fingers. “You’ll feel something?”