The address that Marguerite had given him led to a large, imposing building. It may have been well cared for at one point, but those times were gone. The pickets fence leaned and there was some damage that was in need of repair. The lawn was neatly trimmed, but it was sparse. Clearly, Bell was struggling.

Everett pulled his car to the front door and sat for a minute. Nothing about the place looked familiar. He waited for the pounding heart, the dizzy head, everything that happened when he just thought of finding Bell. His heart rate was elevated somewhat, but he was otherwise calm. Determined. It was the time that they figured this out once and for all.

He didn’t bother knocking. As soon as he was inside, he smelled that subtle, almost non-existent scent that he associated with Kristen. His heart jumped to his throat and he hurried down the hallway, following it. As he got closer to the room at the end of the hall, he heard a strange beeping and swishing sound.

“I don’t care,” Kristen’s voice came to him, strangled. “I don’t care. You still took him from me.”

Everett charged into the room. And stopped dead. Kristen stood over a bed, her hands shaking. Tears streamed down her face. But what had frozen him was the man lying in the bed. Hooked to a ventilator and heart monitor, with an IV bag hanging beside him. His body was withered, bone showing clearly through thin skin. The man’s eyes rolled between the two of them. A flash of recognition moved through Everett’s mind as he approached.

“Simon Bell.” His breath caught in his lungs. “He has ALS, too.”

Kristen reached for the ventilator. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”

Everett held up his hands. “Kristen. You can’t kill a helpless man.”

She shot him a look full of terror. “I can. It’s no more than he deserves.”

“He’s dead already.”

Kristen stared down at the doctor that had made them what they were. “Didn’t use the procedure on yourself, huh? Because you knew it would either kill you or turn you into a monster.”

Everett didn’t pay attention to her ranting. The ventilation tube went through Bell’s throat. He wouldn’t even be able to talk. There was nothing else that he could use to communicate within the room. Kristen grabbed the ventilation tube, but before Everett could warn her not to, she released it again. She turned away, breaking down into sobs.

“Kristen. I’m here.” Everett quickly moved to her and wrapped his arms around her. She collapsed against him, her fingers digging into his shirt. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

He glanced at Bell again. The doctor watched them with watering eyes. So he remembered them. Was he afraid or regretful about what he had done?

“I’m going to ask you some questions. Blink once for yes and twice for no. Understood?”

He blinked once.

Everett continued to hold Kristen as she sobbed. And suddenly, he didn’t know what to ask. Yes or no couldn’t tell him why Bell had taken their memories. “Do you have notes on what you did to us?”

A single blink.

“Did you take our memories?”

Another blink.

“Why?” Everett snarled before he remembered that Bell couldn’t answer that. He growled low in his throat. “Did you do it because you were afraid of us?”

Two blinks.

Everett inhaled deeply. “Did you write down why?”

One blink.

“Where? Here, in your house?”

The door opened again. Both Everett and Kristen jumped as a young woman, a little younger than them, entered. She looked at them with wide eyes. Her brown hair was wet and she only wore a tank top and pajama shorts. Her jaw dropped.

“Everett?”

Everett stared at the woman, uncertain.

“Kristen?” She laughed and clapped her hands. “You found us. Thank God, you’re back.”

She rushed forward and threw her arms around them both. Everett tensed and backed away from her, pulling Kristen with him. The woman’s face fell, but she nodded slowly as she glanced between the two of them. Her hair continued to drip over her and she brushed it back with a hand and shrugged.

“I guess you don’t remember . . . Please sit. My name is Melissa Bell.”

“Melissa . . . Bell?” Everett’s jaw dropped. “But his daughter died.”

Melissa shook her head. “My sister did. We were unlucky in our family. But I underwent the procedure and it stuck with me. We were good friends before . . . ” She sighed heavily and went to Bell’s side and squeezed his hand. “We hoped that you would come back. Dad thought that the lobotomy would heal itself in time, but . . . ”

“It didn’t,” Everett said roughly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Melissa’s smile faded. She scrubbed her hands over her face and nodded once. “Right. Okay. I guess we’ll start at the beginning then.”

“We know that he was researching ALS and got fired,” Everett interrupted. “And four years later, Kristen and I escaped. So just tell us what happened in those four years.”

Melissa hesitated a moment as she stroked her father’s hand. “Okay . . . Well, after he was fired, my dad was contacted by the military to continue his research. He and all of his patients were transferred to a base where he had everything he wanted. He was convinced that by splicing the regenerative properties of jellyfish and starfish into a mammal-based gene and then putting it into humans, it would reverse the effects of ALS. And he was right. But it didn’t take in all of the patients. Ninety percent rejected the treatment. Him included.”

“Military,” Kristen whispered. “I don’t . . . I don’t remember that.”

“Seven years ago, they introduced a new doctor, one who specialized in post-procedure individuals. The two of you were taken away. It was a full year later that we found out you were being experimented on. To see exactly how resilient you were. Dad shut down the program. He moved us all away and then went back to you. You asked him to remove the memories of being tortured, but while he was operating, the other doctor returned. He made Dad destroy your cerebral cortex. Your brains regenerated, but you lost all of your memories. Dad managed to get you back, but you were both so frightened . . . One day, you dug your way out of your room and disappeared.”

“And the military?” Everett pressed. “If they were the ones responsible for us—”

“That doctor disappeared. And Dad set up accounts all across the country and told them if they came anywhere near us again he’d tell the whole country what they were doing. They backed off and have left us alone since.” Melissa shivered. “But now that he’s dying . . . We need someone strong to take care us.”

The way she looked at him told Everett exactly who she thought that person was. His jaw dropped and his mind whirled. For a long moment, all he could do was stare. The thought crossed his mind that he wished that Marguerite was with him. Somehow if she was there, he wouldn’t feel this sudden weight on his shoulders, crushing him.

“I don’t remember you,” he said, but even as he did so, he knew that he wasn’t going to turn away. He glanced at Kristen, but she didn’t look at him.

“Is there a way to reverse what happened?” she asked, leaning forward.

Melissa shook her head.

Kristen closed her eyes.

“There are a dozen of us that live in the neighborhood here,” Melissa continued. “We’ve looked for you, but we never could find you. But now that you’ve returned, you can help us. You’ve lived out there, and you’ve clearly done well for yourselves. You can help us learn how to be part of society, how to control the change. You were the only one who could shift into your werewolf form at will. Have you learned how to stop it at night?”

“No.”

Melissa slumped back, disappointment in her eyes.

“I have a daughter,” Everett continued hesitantly. “She inherited the change. Are there any children here?”

“No . . . no, we decided we couldn’t risk it. But if you have a child and the change didn’t kill her . . . maybe . . . ” Melissa squeezed her father’s hand and stood. “Come with me. The others will want to see you. We thought that the worst had happened.”

Kristen slumped into her chair and shook her head. “I remember a few names and faces. But I don’t want to see anybody. I came here to kill him. But if what you’re saying is true . . . My boy . . . he died a monster . . . You took him apart.”

“No. Kristen, the change never took with your son. He wasn’t shifted when he died. You held him in your arms and . . . Your neural pathways must be healing, but it seems it’s put it together all wrong.” Melissa slowly took her hand. “We’re here for you. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I want to be alone.”

Everett hesitated at that. His sister looked the epitome of defeat, and a well of pity rose in him. He didn’t know what to say, though, so he only embraced her before following Melissa out. Maybe Marguerite would be able to help her. Maybe he could convince her to try. He didn’t know. One thing was certain, though. He wasn’t going to give up on her.

He pushed those thoughts aside when Melissa took him to see the others. They all gathered in the backyard. As he looked over them, the tingles of recognition filled his mind. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, and he wanted to go to each of them and reassure them that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to them again.

A few of them rushed forward to embrace him like Melissa had. A boy who couldn’t be older than fifteen gripped his sleeve.

“You came back for us. You came back.”

All of them looked . . . thin. And considering how long he could go without food before dropping even one pound, they must have all been consistently starved. His hands clenched together as he looked over them, the desire to take care of each and every one of them more powerful than he could imagine.

So was this the kind of person he used to be? The kind that took care of others? The kind that people trusted?

If not, it was the type of person he was going to be from here on out.

“I didn’t come back for you,” he started awkwardly. “Because I didn’t remember. I still don’t. I came back looking for answers. But I’m not leaving again. I look at you and I see how frightened you are, and I won’t let you stay in this fear. I promise. I will do everything I can to prove that I am good enough for this trust that you have clearly put in me. We can live and thrive. I’ve lived a normal life for the past six years. I promise I’ll help all of you figure out how to live your lives as well.”

They looked at him with so much trust and confidence that he was reminded of Elena. The tightness in his chest eased. It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember them. He had answers now. And he was going to ensure that his daughter could grow up in a community of people like her, a community where they didn’t have to be afraid.

He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and called Marguerite. He could hear the relief in her voice when she answered.

“I’ve found him. And I have some answers. A lot more questions, but I do have answers . . . And I think I’ve found a home.”