Page 45 of Slayer

Derek leaned closer. “Once turned into a vampire, you no longer have the ability to withstand compulsion like you did as a hunter. Annette is completely controllable.”

Oh…great.

A melancholy settled over the room, and Celia clapped her hands.

“But I have some good news. We were able to exhume Molly’s father’s grave with two witnesses last night before the attack, and the DNA results should be ready any minute.” She checked her watch. “Just in time for your hearing, Stella.”

Oh.

I had forgotten all about that.

“Luna, I’m going to take you home,” Derek said. “And, Harper, I need to take you to your grandmother’s, remember?”

She nodded. “Sundays with Grandma. Yay.” Her voice was lackluster. Her mom shot her a glare, and Harper turned to me. “I can’t wait to hear everything later. I’ll see you for dinner, right?” She looked to her parents.

They both nodded.

“Stella will be staying with us until you all move into your dorms tomorrow, regardless of her test results,” Celia said, and my heart pinched at the offer.

“Or you can stay with me?” Luna smiled and gave me a side hug.

“Hey, she’s mine.” Harper pulled Luna off playfully, and then they started fake slapping each other.

Celia and Derek shared a laugh. “Okay, girls, we gotta go.”

I felt rooted to the spot.

Even though Luna was joking, the fact that she had even offered to take me in or that they were fake fighting over me made my legs feel weak and my throat tighten.

My entire life, I’d felt discarded, one step up from trash.

And now…

“Yep, let’s go,” I blurted out and rushed for the door before the tears could fall.

They were probably only being nice to me because they thought I was Molly’s long-lost daughter.

As soon as these results showed otherwise, I’d be forgotten.

Best that I kept to myself, got these results, and then figured out what to do from there.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

There was a legitimate court system here. Like with judges and everything.

I found myself sitting next to Celia in a small courtroom with empty seats, the space echoing faintly even when no one spoke. A judge wearing black robes peered down at me from his podium in the center of the room.

Across the room from us was a representative from the DNA archives, along with Headmistress Rubina and someone else I didn’t know, all seated stiffly in a neat row.

This brought me back to my days in front of family court judges with my caseworker when I was transferred from foster care to the group home.

Again, I felt discarded, like I didn’t belong to anyone and no one wanted me.

I turned eighteen. I was supposed to be done with this!

“Thank you all for coming to this emergency hearing,” Judge Jason Greggory said, his nameplate engraved black on gold. “I have reviewed the case and will allow our forensic DNA specialist to report his findings.”