By Sarah Alderson
17-year-old Lila has secrets and techniques she's ready to take to the grave. the 1st is that she will flow issues simply by taking a look at them. the second one is that she's been in love along with her brother's ally, Alex, considering endlessly. After a mugging exposes her particular skill, Lila comes to a decision to run to the single humans she will belief - her brother and Alex. They stay in Southern California the place they paintings for a mystery supplier known as The Unit, and Lila discovers that the 2 of them are removing the lads who murdered her mom 5 years sooner than. And that they have got came upon them. In an international the place not anything and not anyone is sort of as they appear, Lila quick realises that she isn't on my own - there are others available in the market similar to her - individuals with designated powers -and her mother's killer is one in every of them...
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Extra info for Hunting Lila
Eventually, I unclasped my hands from around my legs and stood up, resolved. I had to regain control. I wouldn’t use it again, ever. As in, never. I wouldn’t use it to open doors, to turn on lights or pop the toaster – and I certainly wouldn’t ever use it again to defend myself against teenage muggers. If I could possibly help it. I was going to go cold turkey. It was either that, or a future in orange overalls. I splashed some water on my face and into my mouth and looked up to see myself in the mirror, pale and shadowed as a corpse.
I did the laces up on my running shoes and headed down the stairs, gathering my hair into a ponytail as I went. ’ I yelled. My voice echoed back at me. The house was empty, the silence hummed. I guessed he was still at work – he sure worked some crazy hours. I stepped out into the midday Californian heat, shutting the door behind me, and took off in the direction of the ocean. My mind stilled itself, drifting into a consciousness that registered only the rhythmic smack of my feet hitting the concrete, the dry rustle of the palm fronds along the street and the distant sounds of lazy traffic.
Actually, I was the sorry one. I could have stood there all night and a little bit longer. I yanked the T-shirt down and twisted around so Alex couldn’t see the bruise anymore, embarrassed now to look him in the face in case he saw in my eyes the lies I was about to tell him. But Alex only moved silently to the fridge, opened it and pulled something out of the freezer tray. Then he turned back, reaching for a towel hanging on the side. He wrapped the ice pack up tight and then, with his hand on my shoulder, edged me backwards into a chair.