Page 34 of The Turning of the Tables

The UberArcs claimed Arcanid supremacy, arguing that Nids were the next level in human evolution and that humans were inferior to both Arcs and Nids. Whether they claimed Nid superiority to Arcs or not seemed to depend on the specific chapter. The fact that they had chapters was a little depressing, because it meant that there were enough of them that they could actually have differences of ideology across groups of people.

I’m sure there were other, more local groups. The Tusks, for instance, were an orc-only gang based out of DC with reach as far as Richmond and Baltimore. And they weren’t the only one.

And even outside of organizations, there were always what the media referred to as ‘lone actors’—individuals who had some sort of vendetta, whether real or imagined, who threatened or attacked people for reasons that only made sense to them.

It wasn’t my job to figure out the answers. It was my job to provide the puzzle pieces so that Maza could put them together. And I would do my best to do that.

But it’s human to speculate. And to fear.

I didn’t want Arcanavirus. I didn’t want to be part of the eight percent of the population who died from Arcana infections. I also didn’t want to get cripplingly ill.

And, if I were being honest, I didn’t want to become either an Arcanid or an Arc-human. I don’t think there’s anythingwrongwith being either—I love Noah. I like Ward and Mason and Hart and Taavi. I don’t think any of them are less worthy of rights or respect or affection than I am.

But I like who I am, for the most part. Despite the chronic pain and alpha-gal, I like the body I live in and theway I interact with the world. Sure, I’d ditch the Lyme and alpha-gal if I could, but I really didn’t want to add any new complications to my existence if I could help it.

I knew full well that becoming an Arc or a Nid would completely upend my life. AndthatI didn’t want.

9

ELLIOT CRANE

I’m not going to send you a picture of the finished table, because you have to go see it in person.

The colors are so much better that way.

Anyway.

Thanks for everything these past few weeks.

I’m glad you had to come pick me up at the airport.

SETH MAYS

I’ll definitely go see it.

Happy to help.

Hope you get home safe!

It looked like a completely banal,ordinary text exchange. But I’d stared at his message on and off for two hours before managing to come up with something to say in return that wasn’t horrifically desperate or that didn’t make it abundantly clear how very badly I’d brokenRule Two.

I’d wanted to say that he’d completely upended my life. Which was ridiculous, because almost nothing had actually changed. I was still in Richmond. I was still working the same job, living in the same apartment with my twin brother, and still single. I hadn’t had any life-changing revelations other than the fact that I was absolutely falling in love with a badger shifter who lived half a country away and who had informed me in no uncertain terms that he wasnotinterested in any sort of emotional or romantic entanglements.

And I’d agreed.

And then promptly gotten so hopelessly knotted up that I made the termentanglementlook like a simple bow.

Noah would say that I like to fall in love with men who are absolutely wrong for me—just in wildly different ways. Devin was a cheating asshole. Enrique was high-maintenance. Clay was self-hating and self-destructive. And Elliot was a thousand miles away and not looking for romance.

Maybe I did deliberately choose guys who were impossible. Maybe I did it so that I could avoid ever having to really and truly commit.

But I wanted to commit. I wanted the happily-ever-after that had been promised to me by Disney and Hollywood. I wanted the forever promise, whether that came with marriage or not.

I just couldn’t seem to find someone else who wanted that, too. Devin—well, you don’t cheat on someone you want to be forever. When he dumped me, Enrique said that I didn’t match his standards for a long-term partner. Honestly, that had been a relief. Dating him had been exhausting. And Clay—well, hesaidhe didn’t deserve me, and while I really hope he got the help and support heneeded, he needed more of it than I was qualified to give. I couldn’t compete with his addictions—so I stopped trying. I did tell him I hoped he’d get help, but I didn’t have the strength to stick it out.

I’d spent too much time around people with addictions. I knew what that meant, and I just wasn’t that good of a person. Whether alcohol, drugs, gambling, or God, addictions destroy lives—the life of the addict and the lives of everyone around them.

Don’t get me wrong—people with addictions deserve to be loved just like anyone else. But when I left Clay, I’d given him the ultimatum that you see in movies:me or the addiction. And he’d chosen a deck of cards and the bottom of a bottle.