The word leaves my mouth before I've even decided to say it.
"My sister."
The girl in the doorway doesn't move, doesn't speak, just stares at me with eyes the exact same shade of gray as mine, as my father's, as the woman who supposedly died bearing only one child, not two. I search her face the way I searched my father's minutes ago, looking for something undeniable, something that would let me believe this without having to ask a single question first. I find it almost immediately. The same slight tilt to her chin when she's bracing herself. The same habit of pressing her lips together instead of letting her mouth shake.
"That's not possible," Selene says again, quieter this time.
"Apparently," my father says, and there's something in his voice I haven't heard from him yet tonight, s
