I know it won't be for much longer. My time is coming. I can't see it clearly, but I know it's soon.
But enough about me.
By now, you know that you're a Seer, like me. You also know that darkness is coming—a threat so great that even I can't fully appreciate its magnitude. My visions are unclear, as my fate isn't to lead The Order into this fight. That falls to you. It's awful, I know. If there were a way to protect you from what is coming, I would have done it.
I tried, and I ended up here. Sometimes fate cannot be changed.
However, sometimes it can.
The one you love is in danger. I can't see him, or exactly how, unfortunately. It's frustrating, I know. The visions can be a hindrance as much as a help, sometimes.
You can say that again, Chloe thought.
All I can tell you is that it is in your power to save him. I can offer you nothing more than that—the knowledge that you can save him. That his fate—his death—is not set in stone.
I wish I could tell you how to do it. Believe me, I wish it with all my might. I want nothing more than to spare you pain. But I can only offer you what I've been offered.
Hope. There is hope.
And it's in your hands.
Oh, Chloe, I love you so much. I wish I could spare you the struggles ahead, but I can't.
Just know that I love you. I've always loved you. I always will.
Mom
Chloe's fingers tightened on the letter, and sobs wracked her body. She had no idea how long she sat there crying, only that after a while, Aunt Cara came back into the room, sat down next to her, and drew her into her arms.
Aunt Cara hummed quietly, ran her fingers through Chloe's hair, and let her cry.
“Absolutely not!”
“Ethan, be reasonable!” Chloe wrapped an ornament in tissue, fighting the urge to throw it against the wall. It was the weekend after Christmas and she'd asked him to come over and help her take down the tree. They'd been working for about ten minutes before she got up the nerve to bring up the visions.
He hadn't taken it well.
“There is no way—no way—that I am staying home huddled in my room like a coward while you and the others are fighting for your lives!” He threw a wad of tinsel into the open box. “I can't believe you'd even ask me that!”
“You don't get it.” She swallowed, fighting not to cry. “You'll get hurt, Ethan. I saw it. I saw you—I saw you die.”
“Yeah, well, you've seen me die before,” he snapped. At her stricken look, his face softened. “All I mean is you've told me yourself that the future you see isn't inevitable. It can be changed.”
“It's not just that.” She struggled to keep her voice even, to keep from screaming in frustration. “My mom saw it, too.”
Ethan shook his head. “You don't know what your mom was talking about in that letter,” he said. “She could have been talking about the car accident. The one you already saved me from!”
“Then why would I get it now?” she snapped.
“Because life doesn't always fit together like a perfect puzzle!” he shouted. He took a deep breath to calm down. “We don't know what all of this means,” he said in a much quieter voice. “And we can't run away from things just because they might get dangerous.”
Chloe slumped onto the couch and dropped her face into her hands. Ethan stepped around the box to sit down next to her and throw an arm over her shoulders. They sat in silence for a long moment, Chloe's hitched breaths the only sound in the quiet room.
“You can't ask me not to be part of this,” he said finally, his lips pressed lightly to her hair. “It's too late for that.”
She leaned into him and closed her eyes, forcing the brimming tears to spill over onto her cheeks. Chloe absorbed his warmth, the heat of his body comforting and real. She could feel his breath against the top of her head, even . . . steady. So much like Ethan himself. Through all the insanity that her life had become over the past few months, he'd been there. Encouraging her. Supporting her.
Loving her.
Contrary to the big-man-on-campus, Alpha male appearance, Ethan never stepped on her independence by trying to protect her. Never questioned her need to fulfill whatever destiny her visions presented to her. Instead, he stood by her through it all, ready to fight by her side. It almost made her feel guilty for trying to keep him away to protect him.
Almost.
How could she go on without his support? Without him?
“I don't want to lose you,” she said, fisting his shirt to draw him nearer.
“You won't. We'll figure it out.”
“How?”
He loosened his hold, turned to face her, and took her face in his hands, fingers curled below her ears. His warm breath teased her lips, and she thought for a moment he was going to kiss her. Instead, he looked into her eyes, as if willing her to listen. To acquiesce.
“Beck resisted the possession,” he said. “He fought it off. He can teach me to do the same. It took me by surprise before, but I can learn.” When she opened her mouth to respond, he forged ahead. “In fact, we all should learn how. You included.”
Chloe's jaw tightened. “I didn't see me dying in the vision.”
Ethan shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Look, none of us know what's going to happen, despite what the visions show you. All we can do is prepare and train the best we can so we're ready when it's time.” He pulled her close and Chloe let herself enjoy the embrace for a bit.
“Promise me you won't die,” she whispered, pressing close to listen to his heart beat, the steady thumping reassuring and real.
“I promise.”
Chloe let herself believe it for as long as he held her. As long as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, enveloping her in a warmth and tingle that had nothing to do with the supernatural and everything to do with their unique connection.
She believed it while they finished taking down the Christmas ornaments, and as he pulled the dying tree out the front door and around the side of the house.
But after he kissed her goodbye and headed home, she stowed the box of ornaments in the hall closet and went to her room. She curled up under her blankets and looked out the window at the gray skies and drizzle. She stared, unseeing, waiting for some indication of what she should do next.
Instead, all she could think of was the darkness, the bindings holding Ethan still and motionless . . . the vision that was either destiny . . . or a warning.
And Chloe's belief faltered, drifting away like ash fluttering on the wind.
She knew in that moment what she'd known all along—that the vision had come to her for a reason. Regardless of what Ethan said, she had to protect him. It was her job to ensure that the future she saw never came to pass.
Guilt. Yes, she felt it. She knew she'd have to lie to him. That she already had, really. A lie of omission, if nothing else. She had no intention of letting him fight.
But she shook it off as she got out of bed and pulled her duffle bag close to pack her things to head back to campus. She, Miranda, and Maia would be driving back the next day, to face whatever was coming, and to prepare as much as they could. The Order would be ready.
As for Ethan? Well, when it came to Ethan, Chloe knew exactly what she had to do.
New Year's came and went with little fanfare, and classes started up again, adding another layer of stress in the form of homework and pop quizzes. Chloe hadn’t wanted to tell the others about her latest vision until she’d had some time to think about it. Maia and Wren were understandably worried, of course, so Miranda had taken it upon herself to fill them in. She told them Chloe had been swept up in a vision about the battle. A white lie, but she figured she owed Chloe the time to figure out how to deal with everything on her own terms.
Chloe, Miranda, and Maia settled back in at the Victorian, a strange peace falling over Chloe's shoulders the moment she walked through the door. She caught a glimpse of
something in the picture window, but couldn't be sure what it was. She didn't pursue it, knowing that her gift would reveal itself whenever it decided to, and not a moment earlier.
For about a week, nothing happened. No visions. No life-changing moments. No new members of The Order showing up at her door. Chloe settled into classes for the new semester, and finally went in to meet with her advisor. Ms. Elliott was a harried woman in her mid-thirties, although Chloe had to admit she was to blame for at least a little of the harried-ness. The counselor handled all the non-declared students with last names A through F, and Chloe knew once she chose her major, she'd be pawned off to an advisor in that department. Ms. Elliott would move on to the next unfocused student on her list, mission accomplished.
“Chloe, it's time,” Ms. Elliott said, peering through her glasses, lips pursed in an unimpressed moue.
“I know.”
“You've been ignoring my emails.”
Chloe sighed. “I know. I just can't make up my mind.”
Ms. Elliott shuffled some papers on her desk and glanced at the clock. “Choosing your major isn't the end, you know? You can change your mind. You can change it as many times as you want. But you're nearing the end of your sophomore year and if you don't declare, you won't be able to register for fall classes.” She clicked her pen a few times. “Did you bring your paperwork?”
Chloe nodded grumpily and fumbled in her backpack for the packet of information. She opened the folder and pulled out the declaration paperwork, as well as the career-aptitude test results pinpointing the career paths she was apparently most well-suited for. She laid it all out on Ms. Elliott's desk in neat piles.
The counselor spotted a piece of paper poking out from the folder pocket. “What's this?” she asked, taking it out and unfolding it. Her eyebrows shot up. “Security? Did you get this at the career fair?”
Chloe focused on the pamphlet in Ms. Elliott's hands. “Oh, yeah. I completely forgot about that,” she said. “My landlord works for them and gave it to me. He said there were a lot of opportunities in the field.”
“He'd be right,” the counselor said, sliding the pamphlet over to her. “Forensic investigations, law enforcement, criminology, counter terrorism . . .” She tapped at her computer for a moment, scrutinizing the screen. “And you scored highly for criminal justice on your aptitude test. Is this something you think you might be interested in?”
Chloe pondered it for a moment, looking over the open pamphlet lying in front of her. Warden Security. Protection for the 21st Century and Beyond. “I don't know,” Chloe said slowly. “Maybe?”
“Good enough for me,” Ms. Elliott said, grabbing Chloe's declaration paperwork and scribbling on it hastily. “Sign this and you are officially a Criminal Justice major. You'll pick a specialization next year: Cybersecurity, Counter Terrorism, Law Enforcement, Forensic Psychology . . .” She signed the paper with a flourish and held her pen out to Chloe. “But that will be between you and your new advisor.” She didn't say it, but Chloe could tell Ms. Elliott was glad about that.
She hesitated for a moment, then took the pen and signed the declaration form. Criminal Justice. It wasn't something she'd even considered before, but somehow, it felt . . . okay. Right. It felt right.
“Excellent,” Ms. Elliott said as she took the paper and slid it into a file. “I'll process this and you'll get an official notification via email. Your new advisor will be in contact within the next few weeks and you can figure out your schedule for next year.” She held out a hand. “Congratulations, Chloe. And good luck.”
Chloe shook her hand and Ms. Elliott smiled briefly. Chloe gathered up her paperwork and slid it back into her folder, then picked up the pamphlet.
And Ms. Elliott vanished. In fact, the whole office vanished, and Chloe was somewhere else altogether. She inhaled sharply and tried to rein in the panic. It was a vision. She knew that. It wasn't real.
Chloe forced herself to breathe in and out slowly, twitching her fingers to relax them, and took in the scene around her. If they hadn't just been talking about the career fair, it probably would have taken a little longer for her to recognize it. Instead, she turned in a slow circle, amazed at the intricate detail of the vision. It was like she'd traveled back in time to that day last fall. Students bustled around from table to table, taking information on graduate programs and various employment opportunities.
“Chloe? Are you okay?”
She whipped around to find her landlord, Gavin James, reaching out to her from behind his display table. It was just as it had been back then—an open laptop sat to the side, next to a fan of promotional pamphlets. She tried to remember what they'd been talking about.
Oh yeah. That psychic. Eve. The woman who'd told Miranda and her that she knew Gavin—that he was a friend of hers—something that Gavin proceeded to deny. He watched her, waiting for a response.
“I'm fine. Sorry.”
He sat down. “So, you ever think about a career in law enforcement?”
Chloe couldn't figure out why she was having this vision now. A show of support for choosing a major, maybe? Weird.
“Um, I don't know,” she replied. Was that what she'd said back then? She couldn't remember.
“Why not?” he asked.
A tall redheaded woman approached and he handed her a leaflet. She put it into her bag and walked away.
Wait.
Gavin was still talking, but Chloe couldn't even focus on what he was saying. All she could see was that redheaded woman.
“Maia?”
The woman turned around—and suddenly, Chloe was back in Ms. Elliott's office, standing and reaching across the desk toward her.
“Chloe? Are you all right?” the counselor asked.
“What?” She blinked, disoriented and confused. “Maia?”
Ms. Elliott frowned with concern. “Sorry?”
Chloe shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut tightly for a moment as she tried to get control of her pounding heartbeat.
“Chloe, what is it?” Ms. Elliott asked.
Chloe opened her eyes and forced a small smile. “Nothing. Sorry. I'm fine.” She gathered up her papers and stuffed them into her backpack.
“Are you sure—”
“Gotta get to class,” she said brightly, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Don't want to be late, now that I'm an official Criminal Justice major and all.”
The counselor still looked a little confused, but after a moment, she smiled. “All right then. Have a good day. Good luck to you, Chloe.”
“Thanks, Ms. Elliott,” she replied on her way to the door. “Thanks for everything.”
The woman waved in response and Chloe fled, her hands trembling. How had she never put together that Maia had been there that day? What did it mean? It could be a coincidence, she supposed. I mean, everybody probably went to the career fair, right?
Right.
If there was one thing Chloe had learned lately, it was that coincidences were very rarely coincidental.
And why would she get the vision it was nothing more than a fluke?
Her fingers shook as she texted Maia.
Where are you?
The reply seemed to take forever, although it was probably only thirty seconds.
Library. Everything okay?
Chloe didn't respond and hurried toward the library, taking the stairs to the third floor. She knew Maia would be holed up in the Anthro section, working on her thesis, and found the redhead in a quiet corner.
She slid in to the seat across from her and slapped the security pamphlet onto the table before her.
Maia jumped, then eyed her warily. “What's this?”
“You ever seen this before?”
“What's going on?” Maia asked.
“I—” Chloe took a deep breath. “Sorry. I'm acting a little crazy. I had a vision.”
Maia stiffened. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing. I think. I don't know, honestly.” Chloe shook her head. “But
I saw you get one of these. At the career fair. Do you remember?”
Maia picked up the pamphlet, and then her frown deepened and she reached for her own satchel and rummaged in the side pocket. She pulled out her own copy of the pamphlet and laid it next to Chloe's.
“I don't even remember getting it,” Maia said. “I mean, I remember going to the career fair, but this—” She spun the leaflet around on the table. “Until you mentioned it, I forgot all about it. I don't think I've even looked at it until now.”
Chloe placed a finger on each of the leaflets. “I was there, too,” she said. “You were right next to me, but of course, I didn't know you then.”
“And you had a vision about this today?” Maia asked.
Chloe nodded.
“So . . .“ Maia's eyed narrowed a little. “What does that mean?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” Chloe slumped in her chair. “But we both got the pamphlet. And then ended up living together—”
“I was drawn to the house,” Maia said quietly, lost in thought. “I had the dreams. Then found a flyer with a room for rent that led me here.”
“And the landlord happens to be the guy that we both talked to at the career fair?” Chloe said. “I don't know. It's just all too much to be coincidence, in my opinion.”
“I'd have to agree with you there,” Maia said. “So what do we do now?”
Chloe pursed her lips and flipped over one of the pamphlets to peruse the contact information on the back. “We call Gavin James,” she replied. “Maybe I'm crazy, but I think there may be more to our landlord than meets the eye.”
Of course, you don't just call up your landlord and tell him you had a vision he handed out a pamphlet, so now you want to know what the hell is going on. Chloe had a feeling that was not the way to get the answers she sought.
Instead, the three roommates decided to clog the kitchen sink with scrambled eggs. Gross, but effective.
Gavin James, it seemed, was not a call-the-plumber-and-send-me-the-bill kind of landlord. Instead, he showed up at their front door that evening with a toolbox in hand. And while he lay on the kitchen floor, head inside the sink cabinet as he wrenched on the P-trap, Chloe, Miranda, and Maia exchanged okay, what now? looks until Chloe finally took a deep breath and jumped in.
Super Natural: The New Super Humans, Book Three Page 5