Home.
He spotted the pure white walls of the Getty Center and turned east, following the veins of light where cars sped through the city. He followed the foothill freeway and turned south in Pasadena, searching for a safe place to land.
There.
The familiar parking lot of the Huntington Library and Gardens caught his eye, and he was instantly oriented. There, the research library where his aunt had worked when she was still human. There, the alley of jacarandas that dropped lavender flowers on the asphalt where he’d ridden his bicycle as a boy, roaming the streets of San Marino and dreaming about the lives of the rich people who lived behind the walls and hedges of each compound.
Ben landed silently in the parking lot and walked toward the sprawling mansion a short distance from the library where his aunt and uncle kept their home. He passed the typical wildlife common in Los Angeles—possums hanging from trees; quick, striped skunks darting into bushes; clever cats slinking from one shadow to the next.
It was all familiar, yet nothing was the same.
When he reached the gate of the house, he rose and flew over it, triggering the silent alarm and switching on the video-recording equipment he’d set up after he graduated from high school. He waved at the cameras, then put a finger to his lips.
Shhhh.
Hopefully, whoever was guarding the place knew who he was, but it had been nearly three years since he’d been back in Los Angeles. He’d been gone long enough that security might not recognize him.
He landed in the spacious backyard and spotted the recent addition of a trampoline in the corner near the house. There was a new gate around the swimming area and a bright blue bike leaning against the pool house.
Ben’s heart gave three quick thumps as he sped over the lawn and paused beneath the window of the little girl who’d upended his aunt and uncle’s life in various and delightful ways.
Sadia had been an orphan from the Syrian Civil War when Beatrice and Giovanni adopted her three years before. The first time Ben met Sadia, she’d been a wide-eyed, silent little girl with her thumb in her mouth, clutching a worn blanket. When she looked at him, Ben could feel her judgment and suspicion, and the wounded child inside him recognized it for what it was.
“Do you know who I am?”
She had looked at him with even more suspicion.
“I’m your big brother now. And if anyone ever tries to hurt you, I will hurt them more.”
Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say to a little tiny girl days after she’d come into a brand-new home—Sadia probably didn’t even understand what he was saying—but something in his tone of voice must have gotten through. In that instant, Sadia’s eyes moved from suspicious to accepting; she had crawled into his lap the very next night and fallen asleep on his chest.
In the first difficult months after her adoption, Ben was often the only one who could make her laugh, and he’d done everything possible to keep in touch over video chats while he’d been away. But nothing was like being there when your little sister was five.
Ben tapped on the window, only to feel the cold barrel of a gun pressing against the back of his neck. It was Dema, Sadia’s scary-as-shit nanny.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear me,” she said.
I smelled you first. He didn’t say that. “I did hear you. I just know how much you love flirting with me like this.” The quip was automatic. “Will you hide the gun before she comes to the window and sees you holding it on me?”
The feel of cold metal disappeared. “You really shouldn’t sneak onto the grounds.”
“You knew it was me.” He looked over his shoulder as he tapped on Sadia’s window again. “Besides, I’m trying to surprise her.”
Dema holstered her weapon and straightened the sleek grey hijab she wore over her hair. “She’s probably sound asleep. It’s three in the morning, you know.”
The curtain flew back, and Sadia’s round little face appeared. She was rubbing her eyes and sporting a halo of messy curls. All Ben could do was smile. It had been weeks since they’d video chatted, and he swore she changed every time he saw her.
She blinked at him. Frowned. Blinked again. “Ben?”
“Surprise.”
Her eyes went wide. “You came home?”
He nodded toward her door. “Put on a jacket and sneak out here.”
Sadia’s eyes lit up. “Come outside?”
“Yeah!”
Dema muttered, “She can’t sneak out of the house. Do you know how many security features this compound has?”
“Since I installed most of them, yes, I do.” He watched Sadia disappear behind her bedroom curtains. “Can you just go in there and help her ‘sneak out’” —he used air quotes— “to see her big brother?”
Dema appeared unmoved.
“Please?”
She shook her head. “Don’t make a habit of this, Mr. Vecchio.”
“Mr. Vecchio?” He watched her retreating figure. “Really?”
A few minutes later, Sadia came racing around the side of the house with a bright yellow sweater flung over her pj’s and ran straight toward him. Ben hesitated for only a fraction of a second.
Was he safe—truly safe—to be around this tiny, precious human?
“Ben!”
A flood of fierce protectiveness filled his mind and sharpened his senses. He noticed the chill in the air, the irregularity of the grass she ran on, and the shoelaces hastily tied. She could trip. She could injure a limb or her spine.
“Sadia, be careful.” He reached down and scooped her up. There. She was safe in his arms.
“I can’t believe you came home!” She was lisping a little through two missing teeth. “Do Baba and Mama know?”
Ben had no doubt that Giovanni and Beatrice were already aware he was on the grounds. They would have been informed by whoever was watching the cameras.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” he said. “I wanted to see you first.”
“Really?” Her smile was incandescent. “Look! Did you see my tooth?” She pointed to the gap where her two
