RILEY
Luna's abilities clarified on a Wednesday in the third week of December, on a day that started ordinarily and became something else at approximately two-fifteen in the afternoon when the pack school called.
The call came to my phone. I was in bay three with my hands in an engine and my phone propped against the tool cart, which was not technically how I was supposed to receive important calls but was in practice how most of my important calls got received.
"Ms. Harper." It was the pack school administrator, a competent woman named Jess who I'd come to know over the six weeks since the twins had been enrolled. She had the particular voice of someone who needed to tell me something significant and was assessing the best approach in real time. "Luna is fine. Everyone is fine. I just
