"Why are you even asking me?" I demanded. "You're the seer. You already know what I'm going to do so this whole conversation is pointless."
Josiah held my gaze for a second, before backing away, his face troubled.
"Oh," I said, my eyes widening. "You don't know what I'm going to do, do you?" My lips curled up into a wicked smile and I caught hold of his wrist, revelling in the fact I had stumbled on something completely unexpected, something the seer had clearly been trying to keep secret. He liked secrets, it seemed. Only this wasn't one he could lock away in a room at the top of the tower. This one was etched clearly over his face. "Why don't you know? Is it because it involves Caelan?"
A flicker of hatred twisted his handsome, dark features as he yanked his arm out of my grasp, but it was quickly replaced by a tide of exhaustion that seemed to seep from every pore and his whole body sagged as he stood there. His eyes fixed on a point in front of him as if he was lost in a daydream and not a particularly pleasant one at that.
"At first, I thought it was because of Caelan, but it's not. If it was, I would be able to see other things in your future, but it's....hazy....dark."
"What do you mean?" I didn't like the sound of dark. I didn't like the sound of it at all.
Josiah rubbed at his temples with thumb and forefinger as if trying to massage away a headache. "You're fading. Every time I try to see...it's like you're fading away. Nothing is clear anymore."
"You mean in the same way you see Lucius?"
"No, no." He dismissed my suggestion with a swipe of his hand. "The Lost aren't bloody easy to find, but once you've discovered one, you can still see them. But you....you're different."
"But you used to be able to see me just fine?"
"Yeah." He smiled as if party to something I knew nothing about and to be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted to know considering the way he was looking at me. "Yeah, I could see you very well indeed."
I ignored the intonation in his voice. "So what's changed and more importantly, when did it change? Was it when I came here?"
He frowned, slicking his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, pushing it out as he thought. "Nah, it was before. I could see what you would decide to do about Cain. That much was always clear. I also saw what would happen to you at your husband's compound and what you would do to escape." His white eyes flickered towards me and I flushed, causing him to emit a low chuckle. "But then, after that, something changed. I don't know what it was. You started to fade and I would get only brief snapshots of you, which would then quickly disappear. There was nothing I could ever really hold onto. And now...." He trailed off, chewing on his lip as he stared at me.
"Now, what?"
"Now, sometimes....just sometimes....it's like you're not there at all. It's as if you don't even exist."
I tried to stay calm. I tried to hold onto something, anything that would keep my stomach from rolling over again and again like I was staggering across the helm of some great boat being thrown back and forth over the churning tide. And I didn't want to ask. I didn't. But that awful, burning sense of morbid curiosity just wouldn't quit.
"Do I die, Josiah?" I said with a tremble to my voice. "Is that why you can't see me? Am I going to die?"
The seer didn't reply.
"Josiah! Tell me!"
"I don't know!" he thundered, ripping the towel from his shoulders and hurling it across the room. "I can't tell you what I don't know! You might die. You might not. But I can't see any of it. I get glimpses, but I can't tie them to anything, to any event, place or time and when I try to lock onto something, it's as if...."
He trailed off again and it was all I could do not to charge right at him and rally my fists against his broad chest, but as it turned out, I didn't need to. He drew closer to me, looking around warily and dropping his voice to little more than a whisper as if he feared the walls themselves were eavesdropping.
"Megan, if there's one thing I do know, it's when not to interfere with things where I am clearly not welcome. When this type of thing happens, it's usually because someone or something doesn't want me to see. But let me tell you this: normal people don't just start fading away. They live. They die. Some live longer than others. Some take longer to die. I see it all."
"Strictly speaking, I'm not a normal person though, am I?"
"No, you're not. But the point is, I could see you and now it's like someone is stopping me. Each time I try, it gets harder. And each time I try, it makes me never want to try again. I can't look any more, I can't search for you. It's too dangerous. Whatever this is, Megan, it's dark business, trust me."
"So you're saying it's the Devil's work?"
"You don't have to fight on the side of the Devil to do dark work. Remember that. Not everything is as straight-forward as it appears. We're dealing with higher powers here and they all want to win, no matter what the cost. Now, I don't know who or what is preventing me from seeing, but I do know that I'm meddling in matters that don't concern me. I can feel it every time I try to find you. Someone is determined that I won't see what the future holds for you and as much as I wish I knew what lay ahead, I'm not risking their wrath again."
"And you're saying this has happened to you before?"
He nodded. "1984. A lady called Catherine Arden came to see me, or Sister Agnes Catherine as she was known in the Order. Sister Agnes was a very spiritual woman, in fact you couldn't have found a woman more dedicated to her faith. She told me that when she was just fifteen, she was visited by an Archangel who instructed her to accept God and to devote her life to Him and only to Him. And that's just what she did. For almost sixty years, she worked tirelessly, instructing those in the community to follow God's Holy Word. She fed the homeless, tended to and prayed for the sick. She prayed for those who spat in her face and rebuked her for her faith. I sat in her presence and I swear I've never met anyone more devout, it was like she fucking glowed, you know? But Sister Agnes was also a troubled woman. She'd been hearing voices, you see. At night time, they'd come and whisper in her ear, saying all sorts of strange and awful things and so, at the ripe old age of seventy-four, Agnes had begun to question God's plan for her. Was it a test? Was her time drawing to a close and God just wanted to make sure she was truly worthy? Was she being tormented by demons? Or was the poor old cow just suffering from dementia? She had questions and she wanted me to help her find the answers. She was so ashamed and terrified of what lay ahead and she just wanted the chance to prepare, to steel herself for whatever trials God had in store for her. And so, I agreed to help. Three times she visited and three times I searched and felt the presence of another trying to block me and yet still I persisted. I wanted to help her and if I'm honest, I was determined to beat them. After all, this was my business and if word got round that Josiah Hope couldn't deliver his side of the bargain, then how would I survive? How would I continue to care for Caelan?"
He stopped to glance around the room and his eyes came to rest on his bed, to which he pointed with a quivering hand. "That night, after Sister Agnes visited for the third time, I awoke to find someone in my room, this room, in fact. Now, I say someone, but maybe it was something, I don't know. All I know is that this invisible thing, whatever it was, pinned me to that bed, as if it was crushing the life out of me. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. And then I felt hands on my face and thumbs pressing down on my eyes as if it was going to gouge out my eyeballs. I'd never felt such pain and I swear I could smell my own skin burning as the thing pressed harder and harder until I thought my eyeballs would burst from the sockets. And all the while, even though my eyes were closed, I could see this hot white light as if the whole room was engulfed in it, or maybe it was just inside my head, I don't know. But what I did know was that it was a warning."
"A warning for what?" I whispered.
"To stay out of their business. When I awoke the next night, I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't see. And I mean, I couldn't see. For seven nights I fumbled around in the dark, bumping into things, trying to deal with Caelan when I could barely find my way round my own house. Oh she thought it was a fucking scream. Laughed till she practically choked. On the seventh night, I was able to open my eyes. Just like that. And do you know what I saw when I looked in the mirror?"
I held my breath, feeling it lodge hard in my chest and sear my throat.
"Hand prints," the seer replied, raising his hands to his face and covering his eyes and cheeks to indicate where. "Hand prints like a burn on my skin, clear as day. Ever since then I'm careful where I tread, Megan. When they make it clear that I'm getting too close, I daren't look any further. Who knows, maybe they might come back and finish the job next time. I don't know about you, but I quite like my eyeballs where they are, thank you very much."
He sighed then, looking much older than his years, as if suddenly all the time he had spent on this earth had finally caught up with him and he was aging right before my eyes. "I don't know what's going to happen to you and no, I admit I haven't got a bloody clue whether you will help me save Caelan, but we do have a deal and I know you'd do just about anything to get this over and done with. So, if you do as I ask and you help her, then you're free to go."
I sagged back against the doorframe.
Josiah didn't have the faintest idea what he was asking me to do. Go to Purgatory, let Caelan ascend to Heaven. Easy-peasy. What had I done so far apart from raise a bloody choir of the dead and rip my own back to pieces? Even now they were growing restless again and until I found Michael, I didn't really have the first idea of how I was going to help any of them get out of there. And he expected me to help Caelan?
Besides, there was something else keeping me here, something that tied me to this place and even if I was able to save Josiah's sister, I couldn't leave. Not yet.
"Free to go," I repeated with a wistful smile. "A beautiful thought, Josiah, but you and I both know that I'm not going anywhere without him."
"I know," he said, folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow. "But you don't have to worry about that anymore."
He looked at me then, fixing those eyes upon me, cold and steady, and it made me feel like I was the one being assaulted by some invisible force, only this entity had its hand plunged right into my chest and I thought my heart would literally burst from the pain. Panic gripped my throat and squeezed.
"What?" I croaked, clapping my hand over my mouth and shaking my head furiously. "No. No. No."
Gripping the wall for support, I slid out into the hallway and stumbled up the corridor, feeling the sting of tears burn my eyes and blur my vision. Every step was agony. Every breath like acid in my gullet. Every sob like a stab to the heart.
When I reached the door, I stopped, not daring to cross the threshold. I wasn't ready. I would never be ready. And yet, I found my traitorous hand reaching out through no volition, pushing on the wood and I watched as it swung slowly inwards, hearing that awful coffin-creak of the hinges.
Stepping into the room on legs that felt as brittle as ice, I looked towards the bed and there he was, as pale as the dead, and yet alive, leaning against the wall and shaking violently as if in the grips of some awful fever. His hands cradled his stomach as he grimaced in pain and the sweat peppered his brow and matted his hair.
I gasped at the sight of him and his emerald eyes found mine for the first time in what seemed like an agonising eternity.
"Megan," he groaned and began to fall.
Rushing towards him, I caught him before he could hit the floor and there we both fell to our knees, where I pulled him against me, running my fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead, his nose, his eyelids, his mouth. Kissing him to make sure he was real. Kissing him to know that he was alive. Kissing him because I never wanted to stop kissing him. He sunk down lower, his head twisting into the crook of my neck, his lips instinctively finding my throat, seeking out the one thing he so desperately needed. I stiffened against him as his incisors pierced my skin, feeling that first rush of sweet exquisite pain and crying out like it was the first time all over again.
At first, his efforts were weak, but the more he drank, the more voracious he became and the harder he latched onto my neck until I could bear his weight against me no longer and I tumbled backwards onto the floor. He fell with me yet still he drank, pinning me there underneath him, drinking like it would never be enough, drinking like he would never stop, like he couldn't stop.
His body stirred against mine and I clutched at his back, jutting my hips upwards to meet his and hearing his moan of approval. I was laughing and crying at the same time, grinning like fool as the tears continued to stream down my face, smiling as the sobs still wracked my chest.
When it was done, when he had finally had enough, Harper tumbled off me, falling to my side with one of his legs still tangled with mine and we lay there, staring up at the ceiling, our breath still rasping out in ragged, frantic gasps.
After a while, his hand crept into my palm, his fingers interlocking with mine.
"Welcome back, demon," I whispered.
"Never thought I'd ever hear the day an angel said that," he replied softly.
"Yeah, well..." I turned to face him. "I'm no ordinary angel, am I?"
"No." He trailed his fingertip gently over my lips. "No. You've never been ordinary, Megan Garrick. Not once. Not ever."
He crushed his lips against mine then, kissing me like it would never be enough, kissing me like he would never stop. And I didn't want him to.
Not once. Not ever.