“Most of my visions involve Fia in one form or another. I’m the only person who can see her clearly.” I realize maybe I should have told him this sooner, but I didn’t want to talk about it. “She’s so . . . umm, flighty? She’s hard for Seers to grab ahold of. Clarice could never track her.”
“Who is Clarice?”
I miss a step and he catches me around my waist. We’re suddenly very, very close, but he doesn’t let go or move away. Darn it, vision, couldn’t it have been his hand? “She was my teacher. At the school. But she’s dead.”
“I see.”
Cole’s voice is like a rush of cold night air, bursting the bubble between Rafael and me. “We should find Mae. Talk to her before Keane gets her.” I back up, embarrassed.
“I agree. And I think Annie should be the one to do it.”
“What? Why?” Cole sounds suspicious.
“Who better to warn this poor girl of what her future holds than a beautiful woman who has escaped it?”
“You really think I should?” I ask.
“I do.”
“Okay. I will.” A smile pulls at my lips. I have something to do, and I’ll be able to help, finally. I’ll keep someone away from Keane. I’ll save a girl from the school. Fia would be proud.
FIA
Two Days Before
I COULD WALK STRAIGHT BACK. HE’S IN THERE—PAST that doorway, somewhere in the maze of offices in this gleaming, window-lit skyscraper. Walk straight back. I don’t know what I’d do when I got there. Probably nothing that works with the plan. But my fingers itch to do.
“Don’t,” Pixie says, not looking up
from her magazine. She’s manning the front desk, and I’m sitting on top of it. I’m just sitting here.
She glares up at me. “You’re not sitting, you’re lurking. And you wouldn’t get very far. There’s a buttload of security guards once you get past that door, and you’re on the watch list. So you can’t go back and see James.”
James. Yes. I was thinking about James. Of course that’s what I was thinking about. I want to go back to see James. I want to jump him, throw him across a desk, rip off his shirt and . . .
“SHUT UP, gag, you are so gross.”
I smile and tap my temple, but that was close. I have to be more careful. James asked me again this morning for a verdict he could give his father.
I don’t know if I’m delaying because I like Pixie and worry what will happen to her, or if I’m delaying because I’m worried about whatever job his father would have for me next. But I’ll have to decide soon. Decide what to do with Pixie. Pick her fate. I reach out and brush her bangs out of her eyes.
She doesn’t look up. “Did you figure out who was watching you?” she asks, slowly tearing strips through the glowingly photoshopped face of some pop star.
“Hmm?” I jump off the desk and walk to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I can see the green beacon of Central Park from here. It’d be nice to be down there today. But I need to be here. Why? I can’t do anything right now. I feel like I need to be here, though.
“Last night, before you left with James. Remember? At the club?”
I shrug. “No idea.” I hadn’t even thought about it. Last night James held me and we laughed, and we dared to talk about a plan, our plan, and a future without all this. Whatever was happening at the club is yet another thing on my endless list of things to worry about or not worry about. I opt not to worry. Why worry about something as stupid as that? If I have to confront it, I will. And I’ll win.
Tap tap tap tap. I win.
“You want to do something tonight? Or do you have plans with Peachy Keane?”
James would hate that nickname. I’ll have to use it. I feel a little better today. More patient. I roll my eyes, the word sticking in my head like one of my taps. Awful word.
The main office door opens and a woman walks in. “Afternoon,” she says, her voice low and sleepy.
Pixie pops her gum loudly, then pushes a button under her desk that opens the door to the hall. The woman goes straight back.