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Ashton flinched when Daniel said my name.
"Hmm?" I said.
"Rafe has a birthmark like yours, right? Where is it?"
"On his . . ." I trailed off. Daniel thought this guy was a skin-walker? Why? Because he was looking for us and happened to be Native? No, Daniel didn't jump to conclusions like that.
"On the back of his shoulder," I said. "A paw print like the one on my hip."
"Turn around," Daniel said to Ashton.
The kid's lip curled in a sneer and he seemed ready to snarl at us all, but when Daniel snapped, "Turn around" again, he obeyed. He was only a couple of inches t
aller than my five-five, which made him shorter than both of the other guys. Smaller, too--slight and wiry.
He yanked up his shirt to his shoulders.
The paw-print birthmark was there.
"What's the birth date on his passport, Maya?"
"Birth date? Um . . ." I double-checked. "August fifth."
"Fake, then. It's more like October, isn't it?" Daniel said, walking around to meet Ashton's gaze. "Early October. I don't know the exact date, because Maya's isn't exactly right, either, but the doctors had a pretty good idea how old she was when she was found, and they wouldn't have been two months off."
I tried to follow what he was saying. How would that have anything to do with . . . ?
I stared at Ashton Gray. No. It couldn't be.
"Is your real birthday in early October?" Daniel asked.
"Yeah."
"And you just turned sixteen?"
"Yeah."
"And you know why I'm asking?"
A pause. But only a brief one. His gaze started my way, then stopped, and he stared at the forest instead.
"Yeah."
"Holy hell," Corey murmured. "You're Maya's brother."
EIGHT
IS THERE A PROPER reaction for meeting your twin for the first time? A twin you never even realized you had until a week ago?
I'd seen long-lost-relative reunions in movies. I'd even read a couple of real-life stories where siblings were reunited. Judging by those examples, I should race over and throw my arms around his neck. Only I didn't.
I stood there, staring at this stranger, thinking, My brother, my twin brother over and over. I couldn't process it. We'd shared a womb for nine months. We'd been babies together, probably in the same cradle, his face the first thing I saw every morning and the last I saw at night. And yet he was a stranger. A complete and total stranger.
His reaction didn't help. He wouldn't even look at me. Just stood there, hands in his pockets, gaze defiant, as if . . .
As if he couldn't bear to look at me.
"It's true?" I said.
