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absorption.”
    Stryker’s expression was contemplative now. “So you’re saying that you really are two different people. Each with your own soul.”
    “Yes. Doctors determined that while we share the body, weeach have our own separate area of the brain. She controls a portion of the logical left and I control a region in the creative right.”
    “Okay, let’s say I believe you,” he said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t. “Who performed this experiment, and why?”
    “It was Itor. I don’t know exactly what their goal was. No one tells me anything. I asked my mom once, and my dad, and Phoebe—”
    “Wait. How did you ask Phoebe?”
    “We communicate in a few ways. Notes taped to the bathroom mirror, text messages left for each other on the phone, and sometimes a handheld voice recorder or video camera on the computer.” She shrugged. “So anyway, she said they were hoping to create the perfect spy. Someone who could be anything in any situation because they were two different people. The problem is that they wanted both of us to be aware of what was going on when the other was in control. Turns out that when Phoebe is in control, I know nothing about what happens during the time she has the body, and vice versa.”
    What she’d just told Stryker wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t need to know about the nightmares that often turned out to be true slices of Phoebe’s life.
    “So the experiment was a failure.” He spoke while peering out the window once more, his sharp gaze taking in everything outside. He might scare the crap out of her, but she couldn’t help but appreciate how alert he was, how confident he was in his abilities.
    “No.
I
was the failure according to Itor.”
    He frowned. “Why do you say that?”
    “I’m the weak one,” she said. “The one who couldn’t learn all the spy stuff. I can’t fight very well, and I suck at lying.”
    The light in the room dimmed as he let the curtains fall back into place. His frown deepened, putting lines in the corners of his lush mouth. An insane question popped into herhead, one that asked if he could kiss as well as she suspected. “So Itor created you,” he mused, “but how were you raised? And where?”
    Tired of the pacing, she sank back down on the bed and drew her knees up to her chest. “All over, really. Our mother was a powerful elemental telekinetic. She could manipulate both fire and air, which she said was really rare.”
    Stryker whistled, long and low. “No shit. I’ve never even heard of anyone with a double element talent. Not until you.”
    “Well, not me. Not technically. I can’t manipulate fire, and Phoebe can’t manipulate temperature and water vapor. But still, my mom figured she was the source of our differing gifts. She lost hers during pregnancy and never got them back, so she was useless to Itor after that, except as a mother to us.” A mother who had been protective and kind, if distant, as though something inside her had broken when she lost her powers. Mel didn’t remember a lot about her, except that she’d always seemed nervous when their father paid an unexpected visit, hovering, as though she was worried he’d take Mel and Phoebe with him.
    Stryker drifted toward her, and she wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “So where did you grow up?”
    “For the first five years, Australia. Itor poked and prodded, tested and made us come out and retreat. Then my mom’s brother got sick, and she took us to live with him in Japan for a couple of years.” Melanie still didn’t know why her father allowed it, but then, he didn’t seem to care all that much about her or Phoebe on a personal level. As long as their mother kept up their education and training, he seemed content to let them live with her. “While we were there, an earthquake struck. Phoebe was in control at the time, and she was trapped beneath some rubble when a building came down. Mom was killed.”
    Realization dawned in