Dark Visions

9: The Five Clairs

I picked up my helmet and secured it on my head again, hoisted my pack on my back, and refused to look behind me at what remained of the horrific encounter. There was only one way to go from here, down another long, dark tunnel.

"Follow." Blamore went first and I tailed, glancing over my shoulder at the others.

Cecil sobbed as she limped along, visibly distraught. "I can't believe Jace is dead."

"We should've never come." Brent rushed past Cecil, keeping his eyes ahead.

Angrily, I snapped. "I think we've already established that."

Brent stopped and his voice grew to match mine. "Is this what happens when we mess around with witchcraft and Paganism?"

I stepped forward until our noses were inches apart. "Are you suggesting I somehow caused this to happen because I used tarot?"

"Not at all." He pursed his lips. "I think all that crap is nonsense. And just like Jace said, us entertaining it is dangerous. You're smart enough to see that, right?"

Samuel moved forward between us. "Listen. There's no use in arguing over beliefs. Let's just stick to the facts. Okay? We came. We're here. Now we just have to find a way out. Nothing else matters?"

Cecil rested against the tunnel wall. "Sticking to the facts means acknowledging Max's gifts. That's step one."

Samuel shook his head. "I told you, there's nothing supernatural here."

Cecil wiped away a few stray tears with the back of her hand. "She saw this happening."

"Yet, she couldn't do anything to prevent it," Brent said. "So, what's the point?"

"It's not always one-hundred percent accurate," Cecil said in my defense. "Right, Max? Tell them how it works."

What was the point? Why argue over me and my abilities? Everyone was going to believe what they wanted and not a word from my mouth would change that. "Finding a way out of here is a better use of our time."

"Of course." Brent rolled his eyes. "You have nothing to say when we're questioning your—" He paused, and a strange look came over him. "You hear that?"

We grew quiet, struggling to hear anything out of the ordinary.

I looked down both sides of the tunnel. Was it more rumbling? An oncoming quake? "I hear nothing."

"Listen," Brent moved closer to the wall, allowing his ear to guide him. "It's saying, 'don't hold your breath.' What does that mean?" As much as he didn't believe in my psychic gifts, he didn't hesitate to look to me for the answer.

"Why are you asking me?" I shrugged. "I don't know any more than you."

"The voice, it sounds like . . ." He shot me a look that gave me instant goosebumps. "It sounds just like you."

Cecil sighed in disbelief, noticeably drained and distraught from our traumatizing encounter with death. "That's impossible. I don't hear anything. Does anybody else?"

All eyes quickly glanced around before settling on Brent.

"Oh no." He pinched the bridge of his nose and his breathing grew rapid. "Don't tell me I'm going crazy."

Then the realization hit me. I understood why they were in my vision and what it meant.

"You're not crazy." I nodded, confidently. "You're using your clairaudient abilities. Every person is born with psychic abilities if they believe it or not. Some gifts are just more developed in them than others."