I search for a way out. The sliding door on my left is closer and probably leads to a balcony, but I’m pretty sure Maddox carried me up a flight of stairs—or two. Jumping off a two-story balcony isn’t a great escape option. Two deadbolts secure the front door, and one requires a key. Luckily the key is in the lock. That door is my only plausible way out. Except that a swarm of Legions will probably be waiting for me as soon as I step outside.
No. If I run—do what I’ve always done—someone will die. Running isn’t the answer. It never has been. I work hard to keep my voice steady despite my frantic heartbeat. “Devon, can we make a deal? Let Maddox draw out the vision, so I can see who’s in danger, and give me the chance to save one life. Just one. Pop said I have the power to destroy the creatures. Let me try. If I die, then so be it. And if survive, then turn me in so I never hurt anyone again.” The rational side of my brain tells me I didn’t cause what I saw in my head, but the emotional part convicts me because I did nothing to stop it. “That’s all I ask,” I plead. “One life.” Maybe my request is impulsive and naïve. Maybe the severity of what I’m proposing isn’t registering, but there’s only one thing I care about, and time is running out.
Maddox’s face pales. “Going to Council . . . please don’t. We’ll find a—”
“Even if we agreed,” Devon argues, “the visions are still unchangeable. Attempting to intervene puts others on the line and is a direct violation of Alliance code.”
Pop, of course, stays mute.
Devon’s allegiance is clear, but so is mine. “Then I’ll do it alone. I’m not asking you to violate code, I’m only asking you to hold off informing Council until I have the chance to change this one vision. That’s all. One opportunity to atone for ten years of bloodshed I didn’t even know was happening. Devon, let me try. Please. Please!”
Devon’s stance and eyes are unwavering. Panic seizes me. Why doesn’t he understand that I have to stop the vision from coming true? “Even if you call Council and tell them I’m here, what will happen when they take me out that door? Legions are swarming East Ridge. That would put everyone in danger.”
Devon’s eyes relent—a tiny bit.
“Devon, you’re not letting things slide. You’d be saving a life! And, who knows, maybe more. We’re running out of time. These visions come true in less than twenty-four hours.”
Without waiting for Devon’s answer, Maddox rushes to the kitchen counter and hunts for paper and a pencil. “I found Cera while she was intervening on a vision before this one. Her read wasn’t wrong then. I was there.”
Devon frowns. “Maddox, wait.”
“Would you seriously leave someone to die because of some Alliance code?” Harper still stirs the boiling pot. She sounds appalled. “If Cera wants to fight the creatures in order to save someone’s life, then what’s the harm? Let her.”
On the surface Harper sounds like she’s on my side, but we both know she wants nothing more than me out of their lives. I have to admit, I’m thankful for her backhanded endorsement because, somehow, it gets through to Devon.
He glances at Pop, who is tapping his index fingers on the armrest. “Here’s what we’ll do.” Devon rubs the back of his neck. “Maddox will draw out the vision. Cera, with Pop’s guidance, you can take a look and tell us what you see. If—and it’s a big if—someone’s life is truly in danger, and Pop agrees with your interpretation, then we’ll plan how to stop it.”
Maddox has found a pencil in a drawer and points it at Devon. “So you won’t call Council.”
Devon shifts. “I want to see what the image shows. Then I’ll decide if we need additional support.”
Pop grunts and resumes rocking. “You done right, son.”
A smile flickers across Devon’s lips. He takes several sheets of paper from the middle of a messy pile on the bookshelf and hands it to Maddox. “Get started.”
Maddox. Takes. Forever.
He hunches over the kitchen counter, drawing and erasing with a focused, intense expression. Drawing again. Slow strokes. Fast, quick ones. Crumples paper. Starts over. The soft-ticking clock by the front door tells me it’s almost midnight. I pace between the couch and the dinette table. I had the vision about an hour ago, maybe more. Maybe less. I know I shouldn’t rush him. Mom’s drawings were always complete, so if I only see half a drawing, I might read the vision wrong. And even then, if Pop doesn’t agree with me, I won’t get a second chance to interpret. Devon will call Council, they’ll haul me out of here, and whoever was in my vision will die.
My stomach growls as the room warms with the smell of Harper’s soup. Devon leans against the wall near Pop’s recliner, scrolling through his phone, but everything about him is alert.
“Done yet?” I ask Maddox. He shakes his head, crumpling another sheet. I make my way to the mound of wadded pages, ready to unfurl one. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, just enough detail for me to see—”
“Let the boy draw it right,” Pop interrupts me. “In the meantime, have Rose get you some clean clothes.”
“She needs more than clean clothes.” Harper eyes my hair while chopping carrots with chef-like precision. “More like a shower.” She scrapes the carrot bits off the cutting board into the boiling pot.
In light of everything going on around me, washing up seems petty and a waste of time. Maddox erases a big section. His whole back is tense. Even his hands grip the pencil tight. Maybe if I’m not around, he’ll relax and draw faster.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I step around Maddox, stealing a glance at the drawing, but his arm blocks my view.
“Down the hall to the left,” Devon replies. “Towels are in the hall closet.”
“Your pants look okay.” Harper comes out of the kitchen. “I’m sure Devon has a shirt you can borrow.”
Devon looks me over. “Find her something from my closet you think will fit.”
“This way.” Harper sways past me. As I follow behind her, the faint sound of a television game show emanates from the back room, as if normal life goes on in some part of the world.
I step into the bathroom and look at my reflection—blotched face, no makeup, matted, tangled hair, and dark eyes.
“Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell.” Milton’s verse sears like a branding iron on my heart. Yeah, you pretty much nailed it, Milton. Right now, nothing fits me better. The creatures, the Alliance, my visions . . . all are beyond what I ever imagined. All I wanted was to end the visions. I never expected that pulling the thread would unravel a never-ending nightmare.
And what a nightmare. I sink my head into my hands. My dad, a man I never really knew, was a Dissenter. Exchanged his Bent to the enemy for who knows what. I understand now why Mom never wanted to talk about him. And she’s been keeping me hidden for seventeen years because I’m a Blight—a mixed-breed danger to the Alliance. Then there’s the Alliance, a society whose Council members want me dead simply because I exist, since apparently I have the ability to kill the creatures as well as snuff out the Current, even though I don’t know how. I rub out my forehead. It’s way too much to take in.
One thought elbows its way through the rest. The only one that really matters: finding out who will die and how to keep it from happening. If I save someone’s life, maybe then I can disprove my father’s words. Even if it means I die in the process.
After washing up as quickly as possible, I slip on the green flannel button-down Harper hung on the doorknob inside the bathroom and wrap my hair in a towel that smells of clean linen, not unlike the ones at Hesperian. Except this towel lacks Gladys’s scent of warm peaches and vanilla. Gladys. Sorrow cuts through my gut. What’s Gladys going to say when she hears I’m a Blight? I’ve even lost my gift—the white flowered hairpin she gave me.
I take a deep breath. Lingering on the fact that I’m no longer a welcomed part of Hesperian’s family won’t do any good. I quickly towel-dry my hair, twist it in its flimsy knot, and then rinse out my mouth with the spicy mint mouthwash Devon
has on the counter to burn away the acrid taste in my mouth.
Hopefully Maddox has made progress. I hurry back to the living room, checking the time as I pass the clock. It’s still close to midnight? That’s not possible. My stomach twists.
Something is wrong with the clock. Now I’ve got no idea what time it is or how much time is left. Harper hangs at Maddox’s side, resting her hands on his shoulder as he draws. Pop and Devon aren’t around.
“Is that supposed to be a hand?” Harper reaches out to touch the paper, but Maddox brushes her away and covers the sketch.
I don’t want her or any of them seeing the gruesome details of my vision. That’s my own private nightmare, not something I want to share with the world. “What time is it?” I ask.
Harper checks her watch. “It’s almost two.” She stifles a yawn.
What? Time is slipping away. I rush over to Maddox. “Let me see what you’ve got so far.”
Maddox lifts his head to me. “I’ve tried drawing each part. It’s putting them together, making a whole picture, that’s hard.”
I look at the sketch. All I can make out is a warped stick and a splashing puddle. “I don’t know if it’s any good to see it in fragments. It’ll be too much like what’s in my head. I was only able to understand them by looking at a fully detailed scene.”
Maddox glances back down. “I’m close, I think. I just need more time.”
“Did Pop tell you how to transfer the broken image on the page? Or maybe I need to show it to you again, somehow?” I quickly hold my palm open. For a split second, Maddox’s fingers stretch to take hold, but then pull back. Maybe it’s my imagination that he did want to grasp my hand, or maybe touching a Blight is forbidden. I suppose it doesn’t help that Harper’s standing watch right behind him.
“Pop said Seers have a whole scene.” Maddox rubs his temples. “But yours is like a photograph torn into tiny pieces. Actually, it’s harder because it’s not a static image. It’s a scene in motion. Since this is my first time, the whole picture isn’t coming in clear, and the details are hard to make out. That’s why I keep starting over.”
This isn’t good. “How long will it take?”
Maddox shrugs with an apologetic look in his bloodshot eyes. “Don’t know. If my head didn’t hurt so much, I might be able to draw faster.”
My vision is causing him pain. Mom likely suffered as well. No wonder she was so weak after I had an attack.
Harper rests her hand on Maddox’s shoulder again, probably listening to make sure he’s okay. “Get it as close as you can. I don’t care how rough it is. Then let me take a look,” I say as Harper pulls the purple vial from her pocket.
With a deep breath, I turn and pace the room, working hard not to let my frustration come through. Maddox is trying. It’s not his fault the image is hard to draw, but still . . .
I pass the family picture on the bookshelf. There is Devon, in a royal-blue cap and gown and a beaming smile, squinting in the afternoon sun while standing between two people I assume are his parents. His mom, a fierce woman in a fitted yellow dress and perfect black curls, wraps an arm around his waist. The tall, handsome man in a brown suit next to him has a smile that matches Devon’s. Standing in front is a little girl, probably around Jess’s age, wearing a cornflower-blue dress with two puffy ponytails on top of her head and a mischievous grin. His little sister, Althea. My throat swells.
They looked happy. Nothing like my own messed-up family and fear-ridden mother. Mom. My pulse heats with a warning flare. What if Mom is the one in danger?
The people who died were always those I knew, even if just in passing. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to replay the recent images, hoping to piece them together for something that might show me if it’s her. White flashing light and blood puddled on the ground come to mind. Nothing distinct. I open my eyes and tuck my trembling hands under my arms. Calm down. Gladys is with Mom. She’s going to be all right. The best thing I can do right now is prepare. Get ready to stop whatever there is to come.
I look down. This long-sleeved shirt will help against a Legion’s burn but not a Cormorant claw. But after seeing what Cormorants are capable of, I know not much will. And I need a weapon. Apparently, as I learned with Rhys, only a knife will do.
I head to the kitchen to find exactly that. Harper is behind the stove again, mixing the pot. “Soup’s done if you’re hungry.”
Even though my stomach growls, I don’t have much of an appetite. “Thanks. Maybe later.” I scan the counter for a knife—or even a phone to call Mom and check on her. From what I can tell, all utensils, except the wooden spoon near the bubbling pot, have been put away and there isn’t a phone in sight. The more I think about Mom, the more I need to call her. I want to know she’s safe and getting better and let her know that I’m all right. And maybe even say goodbye.
At that moment, Devon steps in from the balcony door. The hard lines on his face and tense shoulders carry a weight nonexistent in the family photo. I hurry to the living room, stopping him from going further. “Can I use your phone?”
Devon raises a suspicious eyebrow. “For?”
“I want to call my mom. The last time I tried to intervene on a vision . . .” I rub my hands over my face, wiping away the memory. “I need to hear her voice.”
Devon hands it over, reluctant. “Make it quick.”
I walk into the hall, stopping near the bathroom, and dial. The phone rings. And rings. Until it doesn’t. The automated voice repeats her number. I wait for the long beep.
I swallow. “Mom. It’s me. I need to know you’re okay, so please call back when you get this. It’s a . . . friend’s phone.” I lean against the wall and lower my voice. “Mom, I don’t know what anyone’s told you, but I know about . . . I know I’m a Blight. I understand why you didn’t tell me. And please don’t be mad, but . . . I can’t come home. I’ll only put you in danger, so please, listen to me. Let Gladys help you. Get strong enough and then go to—to the place you had planned. Hide there. I’m going to try and make things right for us. If I can . . . I’ll come find you.” My voice trembles. I swallow back the tears. “And Mom? I love you. Bye.”
I end the call, keeping my head pressed against the rough wall. Please let her be all right. Let her not be the one in the vision. I take a deep breath and head back to the living room.
When I turn the corner, Maddox’s eyes soften as he looks at me. Despite keeping my voice low, I can tell he heard everything.
“Any closer?” I push through the tremble in my voice.
“Almost.” His gaze lingers before returning to the sketch.
I go over to Devon and hand back the phone. “Thanks. If you get a call back, can you let me know?”
Devon checks his phone, saving Mom’s number. “I’m headed to Hesperian to meet Council.”
I shoot him a hard look.
“I’m not notifying them—yet. I’m taking Harper back. And if I get an update on your mother, I’ll let you know.”
Harper walks out from the kitchen. “I should stay here.” She glances at Maddox. “I mean . . . if those creatures are around . . .”
“The Legions in this part of town were neutralized, but there were a few minor injuries in the fight,” Devon says. “They need your help treating the burns. Both Kellan and Tanji were hit.”
I stiffen. “How bad?”
“Minor, but they need more ointment.” Devon shoves the phone in his pocket.
Harper switches into her focused medic mode. “Then let’s go.”
Devon goes over to Maddox and leans next to him. “Call me when you finish,” he says quietly.
Harper takes one last, conflicted look at Maddox and then at me. Instead of shooting her usual death glare, she hooks her arm through Devon’s. “We need to hurry. That poison can’t settle on their skin.”
Devon looks at her arm tucked in his and stands a bit taller. As soon as they shut the door, a faint click sounds in the lock. I glance at the deadbolt. Devo
n took the key? I rush to the front door and turn the handle. The door doesn’t budge. Did he seriously just lock me up? Maddox’s head is down and focused. If he finishes the drawing before Devon returns . . . My pulse flares. I won’t be caged, waiting for someone to die. I’ll find some other way out while Maddox finishes the sketch, even if it means scaling down two or three stories from the balcony to get free.
I head to the balcony. Devon can’t lock me in the apartment and expect me to wait for him to return. Not when someone’s life is at stake. As soon as Maddox finishes, I’ll bolt out of here with whatever knife I can get my hands on.
I slip through the sliding door. The fifteen-foot balcony is enclosed in a thick, clear plastic, much like the greenhouse except it smells of lemony antiseptic and new plastic. Warped lights from neighboring apartments pinprick the dark, but the cold doesn’t seep through the covering, which means the creatures might not be able to sense me out here. If they can, it will cause more to flood into the area. I wasn’t able to fight one Legion on the street when I found Juniper, and that was at dawn. Trying to save someone with a horde of Legions swarming East Ridge in the middle of the night will be next to impossible.
“Ain’t no way down from out here, Honey.” Pop’s voice startles me.
I turn to find Pop sitting at the shadowed end of the balcony in a plastic chair with his back to me. How did he know I was out here? I didn’t make a sound.
“Don’t act like you ain’t standing there.” He turns his ear in my direction.
“How’d you know it was me?”
He digs around for something at his side. “You smell like honeysuckle.”
I find it odd he says so because my full name, Lonicera, means honeysuckle. I sniff the tips of my hair. “I smell like whatever cedar shampoo was in the shower.”
Pop snorts as if he disagrees. “The boy smells like rain. The girl smells like a rose drowning in perfume.” No wonder he calls her Rose. “Tell the girl she’d be a lot prettier if she didn’t wear so much perfume.”
Mortal Sight Page 23