The cashier nodded and inched back to the register but still had to try three times to call the order as she rang it up.
Kennedy managed to pay without causing a scene, though the cashier refused to touch her when she handed over the money. Irrational anger flooded Kennedy. Who did the girl think she was to treat Kennedy like some type of pariah? She opened her mouth to demand an apology when the barista called her name. Spinning, she shouldered a stranger aside, grabbed the drinks and headed toward Ethan, desperation dogging her every step.
He’d understand. He’d help her get through this.
It seemed to take forever to reach him. Setting the cups on the little coffee table, she dropped onto the sofa and clutched her bag. The fine hairs on her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. She looked around but only saw curious glances in their direction. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Ethan grabbed his cup and blew across the lip. “What’s going on, Kennedy?”
“This stays between us.”
She could see a look of hurt tighten the corners of his eyes even as his brows drew down. “Always. It’s always been that way.”
“I know, I know.” She buried her face in her hands. “I just... I needed to say it this time. I need to hear the promise. Words have power.”
Ethan’s cup clattered against the saucer. “Where’d you get that last sentiment?”
“No idea.” She looked up. “Does it matter?”
“Depends. But I give you my solemn vow that I won’t repeat this conversation.” He watched her carefully, waiting for her to speak.
She let her attention drift to the fire. There was comfort in the blaze, something she’d never experienced before. Watching the gas flames as they rose and fell behind the fake logs seemed wrong, or inorganic at the very least.
Ethan broke her line of sight, and she shifted her attention back to him. Taking the cup he offered, she sipped. The drink was perfect, the bitterness of the coffee offsetting the sweet whipped cream and thick chocolate. Things like this made life seem better, even if only for the length of time it would take her to finish the drink.
“So spill it, Kennedy, and I’m not talking about the coffee.”
“Right.” She set the cup on the coffee table by her knee. “About six months ago, I started having blackouts. At first they were really rare but, as time passed, they became more frequent.” She waited for him to react, but he only nodded and gestured with his cup for her to continue. “Okay, so these blackouts have always been preceded by vision-reducing headaches.”
“How fast is onset?”
His clinical approach stopped the encroaching panic, forcing her to think past it and answer his questions. “It begins peripherally, narrowing to tunnel vision before I lose sight altogether. I retain the ability to hear for—I’m guessing—approximately two minutes. My heart rate accelerates, but I attribute it to stress. Something in me shifts, like I’m harboring a different...this sounds so crazy.” She shook her head and reached for her coffee cup, taking a scalding gulp.
“Don’t edit this, Kennedy. I need to know exactly what’s happening.” Ethan’s firm voice was more command than request.
“Look, this isn’t easy.” The heat from the cup seeped into her hands as she rolled it back and forth across her palms.
“Keep it clinical. If it’s unexplainable, just do your best.”
She snorted. “What, are you diagnosing me?”
“Consider this a free evaluation.” He bumped her knee with his. “Go on.”
Her voice dipped lower, and Ethan leaned in to listen. “When my hearing begins to fade, it’s as if my will is being superseded by something, and then that entity’s will pushes mine out of its way. I feel it, Ethan. I can tell my consciousness is being forced out of the way, but it’s unstoppable. My will is shoved aside, and then I’m gone. I wake up in the strangest places having done some of the most inappropriate things—dancing nearly topless on a bar top to ‘Tequila’ at a biker bar was my most recent fete.” She paused and looked up to gauge his reaction. When his face remained neutral, she let loose the craziest idea. “I don’t like light anymore. Darkness is more comfortable. I’ve even started living with my drapes closed all the time to avoid sunlight. I know it sounds crazy, but if I step into the shadows? It goes away. Ethan, I’ve got this creepy-ass feeling, like I’ve got some parasite sucking on me.”
He ran his fingers through his hair several times as he considered her. When he finally spoke, his voice was sharp, his words clipped. “You’re losing how much time per episode?”
Kennedy rolled her shoulders, trying to ignore the tension that had snuck back in. “It ranges. This last time was the worst. I lost days.” Her voice trembled and she hated it, hated that whatever was happening was breaking her. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked anywhere but at him. When he touched her knee, she startled and sloshed coffee over the rim of the cup. It coursed down both sides of her hand and she cursed out of habit, hurrying to set the cup down. Mid-motion, she froze and slid her gaze to Ethan. “It doesn’t burn.”
He reached for her hand, taking the cup from her and setting it down before examining her hand. Though slightly pink, the skin was neither burned nor blistered. Ethan looked at her, his face a blank mask. But behind it, she thought she saw both fear and awe.
Taking her hand back, she mopped up the mess the best she could. “What?” she finally demanded. “Why are you staring?”
“Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Kennedy kept scrubbing at the table though the mess was long gone. “What makes you think there’s another shoe?”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Kennedy.”
Pausing, she looked around the coffee shop. No one was paying them any attention. Dropping the napkins, she clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “I had a second episode Friday night. It’s never happened before. I was in the cab and then, next thing I know, I’m standing in the hallway on the fourth floor wondering what day it is—today.” She lowered her voice even more. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I have this...this knowledge that I’m going to...” She swallowed hard and jumped when he took her hands.
“That you’re going to what?” he asked, low and hard.
“I’m going to be responsible for a lot of death, Ethan. More than you can imagine.”
Dylan discreetly followed the pair across the lobby and briefly held off following them outside. Not once were they out of his line of sight. They might believe he was as gullible as a spring lamb born yesterday, but he knew the man, Ethan, had been looking to ditch him by sending him for a glass of water for the woman. The woman. She wasn’t simply the woman to him, but rather the foretold woman. Kennedy Jefferson. The key to his survival lay somewhere within her. A hard shudder worked through him, and his fingertips burned. It was reactionary to clinch his hands in order to hide the show of magicks he couldn’t regulate. Simply the thought of her challenged his control. Irritating, that particular tell, and not a small one at that. Made him feel like a fool on a righteous errand.
He watched as the two slipped inside the coffee shop before he stepped outside in silent pursuit. He stood in a group of strangers and waited for the crosswalk sign to turn. A wave of subtle power struck him, faint and scentless. If it had held a smell, or even a flavor, he’d have been able to identify the element to which it was bound, but the wave retreated far too