Chapter 3 - My Mother's VoiceFor a moment, I couldn't breathe.
The airplane tilted.
A suitcase slid from an overhead compartment and slammed into the floor.
Maya cried out.
I grabbed her before she could fall.
Vincent shouted for his men to brace themselves.
Then the plane leveled.
Silence returned.
My mother's voice still hung inside my head.
My turn, Vincent.
I knew that voice.
Not from a memory.
From thousands of ordinary moments.
"Leah, put your shoes on."
"Leah, don't wake your sister."
"Leah, lock the door."
"Leah, if anyone asks, tell them I'm not home."
I looked at Vincent.
"That was my mother."
"I know."
His answer came too quickly.
"You know her."
He didn't speak.
I stepped closer.
"You know my mother."
"Yes."
"How?"
Vincent's eyes moved toward the photograph.
"I thought she was dead."
"But she's not."
"I know."
"Where is she?"
He looked toward the cockpit.
"That's the problem."
The captain suddenly shouted.
"Someone accessed our navigation system."
Vincent's guards ran forward.
I stayed with Maya.
Then I noticed something.
The baby wasn't crying anymore.
He was staring at me.
I walked toward him.
He reached one tiny hand toward my shirt pocket.
I froze.
"What's in there?"
I reached into my pocket.
A folded scrap of paper.
I didn't remember putting it there.
I opened it.
Three words.
DON'T TRUST VINCENT.
My heart pounded.
Maya looked at it.
"Who wrote that?"
"I don't know."
Vincent saw it.
His face hardened.
"Give me the paper."
I didn't.
"Leah."
"You wrote it?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know."
He took one step forward.
I stepped back.
He stopped.
The baby started crying.
I looked at him.
"No."
Vincent stared.
"What?"
"He's afraid of you."
His expression became unreadable.
The guards exchanged glances.
Vincent slowly sat down.
"Why?"
I studied him.
"Because you smell like the person who hurt him."
Everyone went still.
Vincent looked at his suit.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
But something was clicking inside my head.
The baby wasn't afraid of noise.
Or hunger.
Or the airplane.
He was afraid of certain things.
The black disc.
The blanket.
And now Vincent.
Three triggers.
I looked at the black device.
Then at the photograph.
Then at the note.
They couldn't be separate.
The plane suddenly shook again.
The captain's voice screamed through the cabin.
"Someone's locked us out!"
One of Vincent's men ran to the cockpit.
The door opened.
The pilot and copilot were both conscious.
But their screens were covered in static.
The navigation map was gone.
A single red symbol replaced it.
A circle.
Inside the circle was the same symbol printed on the black disc.
Vincent stared at the screen.
"What is that?"
One of his guards whispered, "The Ravens."
I looked at him.
"Who are the Ravens?"
Nobody answered.
Then Vincent said, "A group that disappeared years ago."
"Like my mother?"
His eyes moved toward me.
"Maybe."
I hated that answer.
"You're lying."
"I'm protecting you."
"You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
He walked over.
"You left New York with your sister carrying emergency cash in a sock."
I froze.
"How do you know that?"
"I saw you at the airport."
"You followed us?"
"No."
"Then how?"
He looked at the security camera above the galley.
My stomach tightened.
"We weren't random."
"No."
"Someone wanted us on this plane."
"Yes."
"Who?"
Vincent didn't answer.
The baby started crying again.
I turned.
He wasn't looking at Vincent this time.
He was staring at the window.
At first I saw nothing.
Then I noticed a reflection.
A woman's face.
Standing behind me.
I turned.
Nobody.
I spun back toward the window.
The reflection was still there.
My mother.
I screamed.
"Mom!"
Every person in first class turned.
I pointed.
"She's there!"
Vincent rushed to the window.
Nothing.
Clouds.
Only clouds.
Then his phone vibrated.
He answered.
"What?"
A man's voice whispered through the receiver.
"You've been looking in the wrong direction."
Vincent's expression changed.
"Who is this?"
The man laughed.
"You still haven't told the girl."
"Told me what?" I asked.
Vincent covered the phone.
I shouted, "What haven't you told me?"
The voice came through the speaker anyway.
"Ask your mother why she changed your name."
I stared at Vincent.
"What does he mean?"
Vincent's hand tightened around the phone.
The man continued.
"Ask her what happened on October 14."
I went cold.
October 14.
My birthday.
Every year my mother hated celebrating it.
She always said the same thing.
"Some birthdays should remain private."
I suddenly remembered something.
A locked drawer in her bedroom.
A hospital bracelet.
My name written on it.
Except it wasn't Leah.
It said:
LENA MORETTI.
I looked at Vincent.
He wasn't surprised.
"You knew."
He didn't deny it.
"You knew my real name."
Maya started crying behind me.
I turned to her.
But she wasn't looking at me.
She was looking at Vincent.
Then she said something so quietly that only I heard.
"That's Daddy."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She pointed at Vincent.
"He came to our house before Mommy disappeared."
Vincent went completely still.
"What did she say?"
Maya pulled her rabbit against her chest.
"You were there."
Vincent looked at me.
I looked at him.
May you like
Then the baby screamed.
And somewhere beneath the floor, something exploded.
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