Sara knelt by her mother’s graveside, tending the fresh flowers she had brought.
She listened, her ears keen.
In a few seconds, the latch on the metal gate would lift, and the gate would open. Charles Salt would enter the garden and walk along the borders of the gravestones until he was standing next to her.
He would ask her again about Christian’s whereabouts, and she would once again maintain her silence. Christian was safe, recovering in a place they will never find. Deep underground, in a room watched over by a thousand protective eyes. He and Sara had spent much time together, and there was still so much to be said. Sara was no longer alone. There was another like her, although he was also unlike her in many ways.
Salt would again ask her whether she would work with the Secret Service, partner with him to explore her powers, learn to unlock them to their full potential. He would tell her that, with her, the Orpheus project could work as he had never dared to imagine. She could have a purpose in life. She could save the innocent, fight the enemies of the state.
Even as he said this, she would know that Salt would not change and that she would always be just an asset to him.
Her mind kept returning to Helen and Phoebe and the decision each of the generations of her family had had to make. Hide away in a basement, or risk coming to the light. Helen and Phoebe took the risk. One was imprisoned and the other lost her children and her sanity.
But Sara also knew she wasn’t either her great-grandmother or her mother. She had been trained by the very men who sought to control her. She had absorbed everything they had to teach and then kept learning. She could protect herself in ways no women in her family had ever been able to do.
She had the potential to create a third choice: to step into her power and use it, on her own terms, to protect those in need and the ones she loved.
This idea was taking hold of her when she heard the garden gate latch open.
Before Salt had even reached her, Sara stood up and turned to face him.
‘I accept, but my name’s not Orpheus. It’s Sara Eden.’