Downfall by S.D. Wasley

  Chapter 8: Divination

  On Saturday the five of us went to see a movie together. It was disorienting to be out in public with the group from Gaunt House. I found myself staring at their well-lit faces and constantly looking around to make sure no one recognized us. However, they were unfazed. Maybe they used to go out together before Jude brought me into the group. But why would that change just because I came along? We went to a bar after the film and a glass of wine gave me the courage to stand close and sneak my arm around Cain’s hips. He kissed my cheek but the look in his eyes reflected the way I felt. Neither of us was comfortable doing stuff like that in front of the other three, let alone out in public. They seemed fine, chatting away, although Jude avoided looking at me or Cain.

  When we got back to Gaunt House ruin it was late so everyone went home pretty much straight away. Not me. I wanted more of Cain ... and his story. I’d taken note of his habits. He always stayed behind after we left. I got into my car and sat there, pretending to write a message on my phone while Cain waved everyone off. I didn’t want any of them to know I was staying there with Cain―especially Jude. But as soon as they’d all departed I climbed back out of my car.

  Cain sure didn’t have any reason to feel as shy of me as I did of him, yet something like doubt was plain in his face as we went down into the underground chamber. I mean, I’d already made my obsession with him humiliatingly obvious. He couldn’t possibly have any doubts about how he made me feel. And he was so extraordinary. Wasn’t he accustomed to people’s adoring gazes by now? But we stood down there in speechless discomfort, the quiet filling our ears. Finally he reached for my hand, saying, “Let’s not talk about it tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged and sat, pulling me down beside him. Why didn’t he want to talk? Was it because of our conversation from a couple of days before when I’d disappointed him by just not getting it? Maybe he was worried I wouldn’t get it again. I chewed my lip nervously and Cain reached up to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  “You’re not going to let us not talk about it, are you?” he said.

  I shook my head. “I know you don’t think I’ll understand, but I’m trying. Promise. I want to know why the others are here, too. Why did you choose them?”

  “It’s not that I don’t think you’ll understand. It’s just that you might feel ...” He stopped.

  “What?”

  Cain’s lips closed and he didn’t answer. I took his shoulders and tried to shake them, but was met with massive strength, warmth, and immovability. It was like trying to shake a horse. I pulled my hands away. I simply couldn’t get used to that. But at least he was looking at my face again now.

  “Come on,” I said. “Cain, tell me. I feel like I’m being left out.”

  “Ironic. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. Because you might feel left out.”

  I frowned. “You thought I might feel left out if I knew why you chose them? Why? Is it something they know and I don’t? Another secret? Something they know about you?”

  He shook his head. “You’ve been told more than they have. I’ve hardly told them anything.”

  “Why not? Because they don’t ask?”

  Cain shrugged. “Because they don’t need to be told.”

  “But I do?”

  He grinned. “You keep asking. They don’t.”

  I smiled sheepishly, but then it struck me. My mouth fell open. “They don’t need to know because they already know?” I checked his face for confirmation. “Because they ... Liz, Owen and Jude ... have visions, too?”

  Cain’s face told me I was right. He reached for me but I held him off. I needed a clear head to deal with this and his touch definitely wouldn’t help. I bent over, putting my chin in my hands, contemplating the stone floor between the mattresses. “How did you find them?”

  Cain leaned down so he could see my eyes, but didn’t touch me. “I saw their faces. When I was out. Out of it, in surgery.”

  “All of them?”

  “All of them and more. I’ve yet to find some of them.”

  “You’re collecting them together?”

  “I’m trying to, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel like I have to. Owen, Jude, Liz and I work together to try and decode the visions and help the people in danger.”

  “Are their visions the same as yours?”

  “No, theirs are more like what I used to have. Snippets. Fragments.”

  “Ohhh.” That enlightened me. “They’re becoming like you. They’re moving toward the same thing you experienced, when you started to see the complete event in a vision, not just bits and pieces.”

  “I think so.”

  “Is that where you went when you took off, disappeared on those couple of nights and wouldn’t tell me why? Were you looking for the other faces you saw?”

  He grimaced. “No, I was trying to help people we saw in the visions. Normally I get a full vision of what’s coming after their fragments build a picture. I can get enough details to intervene if I’m lucky, but not this time.”

  “You just went out there? At night, alone, to see if you could help?”

  Cain laughed. “Yeah. Sounds crazy, huh? But that’s what I did.”

  “At first I thought you were out scoring a hit,” I said. His eyes dropped, brow creasing. “The way you came back all sleepy and hungry both times.”

  “When I try to help people there’s a physical aftermath.” He still had his eyes on the floor and I regretted being so candid. Maybe I’d hurt him by referring to his history with drugs. “I get super-focused but it must ... I don’t know, use a lot of energy or something. Afterwards I’m exhausted. And hungry.”

  “Those other people you’ve seen, the ones you haven’t found yet, can you describe them? Or draw them? How many were there?”

  “Six.”

  The question burned in my mind but stuck in my throat. Cain looked into my eyes and I knew the answer. “You didn’t see my face.”

  “Francesca.”

  I ignored him, thoughts racing. Why am I here, then? I had to work it out. It had been Jude who had first invited me here. Why? Cain hadn’t asked him to bring me. Cain hadn’t even known I existed. Did Jude see something in me? Jude McBride from my schooldays, with his auto workshop black-stained fingernails? I tried to remember what he’d said to Cain when he first brought me to the chamber under Gaunt House. Something like: “I thought you might think she’s okay.” What did that mean? Did Jude think I was special, like them? Or maybe he thought he was special, like Cain, able to decide who could be part of this group. I became aware that Cain was talking to me, trying to get my attention.

  “Francesca. You’re here and I’m sure there’s a reason for it.”

  I eyed him doubtfully. “You don’t think I’m a mistake?”

  “A mistake?” He sat up straight and frowned at me. “I don’t know why you’re here but you do not feel like a mistake.”

  “But―”

  “No,” he said. “No way. Trust me, please. I’ve thought long and hard about why you came to us and I’m certain it must have some meaning.”

  “But Jude brought me and―”

  He stopped me with a kiss this time, and my protests evaporated. It registered somewhere in my mind or maybe in my body that I had Cain alone so I should just shut up and enjoy it. My senses filled with him―his scent, warmth and power. His hands traced my skin, leaving scorching trails that seemed to sink into me and accelerate my desire. I put my arms around his neck and tried to hang on tight, losing myself in his kiss. Maybe if I held him tight enough I could carry the memory of his touch around with me until the next time we found ourselves alone.