The human city of Crestview was old, gray, and constantly drowning in rain, but to Penelope, it was the only sanctuary left on earth.Outside the small, run-down brick townhouse, the afternoon sky had turned a dark, bruised shade of purple, pouring buckets of cold water onto the cracked concrete driveway. Most children would be huddled indoors beneath blankets, but through the glass of the kitchen window, Penelope could only watch a streak of pure, unbridled lightning running through the storm.It was Patrice.The seven-year-old girl was spinning in circles in the middle of the driveway, her head thrown back as she let the freezing rain wash over her. She didn't have a single care in the world. Her long, silky hair—the exact, unmistakable shade of spun silver that Penelope and late Shenon shared—was trailblazing through the air, plastered against her small cheeks. But the most terrifying, beautiful thing about her was her eyes.Whenever Patrice looked up, her gaze was a piercing, bril
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