Sometimes, objects shook around me. Objects made of iron, tin, or gold. Once, I’d been able to move one of Elroy’s daggers without touching it so that it had spun around and around on my mother’s dining table, balancing on its cross guard. But so what? I met his exasperated gaze. “If they track me down, they’ll kill me for a slew of other reasons before they kill me for that.” He huffed. “I’m not asking for you. I’m not asking for me, either. I’m asking for Hayden. He’s not like us yet.
