Page 59 of Inextricably Tied

Flint watches a cacti flower shiver in the wind. “It’s been a long time. I was still a kid myself. And it’s hard, having to think about how I’ve become someone she’ll never know. Everything I did for a while felt pointless, because she wasn’t here to see it. To experience it. All the milestones felt empty. Now, I never know what’s gonna set me off. I’m never fully prepared.”

Harbinger swallows around her heart in her throat, nodding as she stares across the plain. “Grief has a funny way of showing up at the most mundane opportunities. But you should talk about her anyway — if Sidi comes to your mind, you should mention her. Any time.”

A smile drifts across his lips when he hears Sidi’s name again.

The weight becomes a little easier to carry.

TWENTY

Agony

The pain is…confusing.

Even after Flint and Harbinger pull apart, a weary gravity in their bodies, Agony can’t place the feeling he has. Once Harbinger gives him a quirk of her brow as they make their way back to the guest quarters, Agony realizes he hasn’t spoken for the better part of an hour.

The séance should have been a feast for him. All that delicious pain and terror, a nightmare taking shape in the physical world. And yet, Agony feels nothing.

Not nothing: nothing good.

No delight or satisfaction or contentment the way he should have. The way he used to. Instead, he feels strange. Queasy. Some other emotion he’s never experienced.

So he stays silent, watching, observing, the same way he had after the fire. But this time, there’s no horrifying fascination. There’s something else. Something quieter. Something softer, like wind drifting through a window, soft and yearning.

It makes him sick.

Because the closest thing he felt to thrill was after the séance, when Harbinger leaned her weight into him and let him guide her. When she took Flint’s face in her hands as if she could take his pain. When Flint and Harbinger wrapped their arms around each other, foreheads resting together, murmuring until thunder drew closer.

Flint’s the strongest creature Agony knows, and still, that rock armor was no match for the mere mention of a spirit. Invisible, yet effortlessly decimating.

What emotion could do that? What feeling has that power?

It’s dark before Flint sits up in bed, bleary from the stupor he fell into after the séance. “We’re supposed to leave today. The Diviner Superior said —”

“She’s not gonna do anything.” Harbinger eases him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission. And we’re not asking forgiveness, either.”

Poe brings dinner with a few low words to Harbin before Poe departs. Agony’s stomach — or where it might be — growls, and he’s not even sure he needs sustenance. The three of them eat before Harbinger jolts Agony from his thoughts.

“You’ve been quiet.”

He looks up from the brie halfway to his mouth. She and Flint are watching him. Agony smooths out his expression and shrugs. “You two have been loud.”

It’s silent until Harbinger gives a tired giggle that reaches into Agony’s chest and twists. Flint’s smile lifts as he butters his slice of bread. “Well. Thank you for being less of a bastard than usual.”

Agony drops a grape into his mouth. “Regular operations resume tomorrow.”

They turn in for the night, awoken hours later by a rap on the door: more work with the Seers. Omen leads them back to the suite where Herald waits, tucked beneath the sheets of her bed.

Her Veil markings spread like a lightning strike, outlining cerebral connections across her shaved head. Indigo candles line her headboard between pictures of the girls. Herald stares into a mirror as the three stand awkwardly in the doorway until she finally acknowledges them.

“I use this as a test of reality.” She sets the hand mirror aside. “To be sure I’m awake when I think I am. In my dreams, I have no reflection. I am not present. I am an observer. Unlike Harbinger, my skills extend much further beyond the Veil. The Oracle rewards my dedication.”

Harbinger rolls her eyes. Herald doesn’t notice.

“Dreams show everything: past. Present. Future. Things that will never come to pass. Mundane objects. Impossible phenomena. The trick lies in determining which is which. I will focus on your question: the location of these girls. I will sleep for a period of time. Long enough to reach the stage of dreaming, after which, my timer will pull me out of sleep.” She points to Agony. “You should stay in the vicinity. My room or the lounge is fine. You may try to see if you can enter my dreams, but in either case, I will share what I find when I wake.”

It’s a meticulous process. The leftover scents from Herald’s bath are overwhelming, potent combined with the oil she smears onto her hands. “100 passes,” she murmurs as she rubs it into her skin, “not a stroke less.” There’s no light in the room, curtains pulled tight, leaving the space cool and dark. Herald turns onto her side in the bed, and Harbinger sticks out her tongue until Flint nudges her with his hip.

Agony sits at the foot of the bed, eyes closed, trying to focus on Herald twitching in her sleep. A whisper cuts through the darkness. “Anything?”