And then I heard her.
“This sounds familiar.”
Satina’s voice was about as welcome as a hangnail. I spun around to find her standing along the shore in a fringe bikini. The crystal clear waves lapped at her feet, and she had one of those ridiculous drinks with the little umbrellas.
Abram’s body tensed against mine. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his voice dropping to a protective growl. “How did you find us?”
“Two questions with but one answer,” she said, her voice lilting. “I told you fate wasn’t done with your little Supplicant here. There’s more to your story.”
“No,” Abram said flatly. “We are done with this, Satina. Leave now.”
“I could,” she said. “And I will. But that won’t change anything. These things will happen whether I’m here or not. So I suggest you hear me out and prepare while you still have time.”
I stepped forward, half terrified and half resolved to hear what she had to say.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms in a poor attempt to stop my hands from trembling. “Skip the riddles and cut to the chase.”
“I have the answer to the question you never asked,” she said, tilting her head. “You know—how you used magic. Supplicants can’t use magic, Charisse. They can only facilitate it. And yet your blood performed magic without a Conduit to conduct a spell. Don’t you find that strange?”
“Well, I guess you were just wrong then,” I said, rolling my eyes.
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Yes and no. I was wrong about you, but now I know why. You aren’t just a Supplicant, Charisse. You’re the bridge. You’re the fuel and the fire.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re not just a Supplicant. You’re a Conduit, too.”
I stepped back. “No, I’m not.”
“You are,” she insisted. “And you’ll either be the key to fixing this mess or the key to destroying our world, so I suggest you take what I have to say seriously. The hunt for you will not end here. Mystics all over the world have been prophesying about you, and it won’t be long before every Conduit on this planet knows who you are and what you are. And they will come for you.”
I shook my head, trying to will away everything she had said, but there was no unhearing her words. “Fine. Let’s say you’re right,” I said. “Then what happens now?”
“What always happens, Charisse. The next.”
“Enough,” Abram barked. “You promised me you would give us—”
“I already gave you time!” she shouted, a storm taking over her features. “I gave you as long as I could. There is no more time, Abram.”
Abram clenched his jaw, and he stepped past me, right up to Satina. His body was hulking compared to the body she had borrowed. “I said we’re done, Satina.”
“Uh-uh.” She didn’t even flinch. “Sorry, lover boy, but your romance will have to wait. What is will turn into what needs to be.”
“Great, more riddles,” I mumbled.
Just then, a mass fell to the shore, landing with a thud and bursting in warm red ribbons.
No. Not ribbons. Blood.
It splattered against my legs and the skirt of my sun dress. And that mass … it was a man. A very dead man, with two simple words carved into his forehead.
She sleeps.
I covered my mouth, holding back a horrified gasp, and lifted my gaze to Satina. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” Satina said, waving her drink to the side, “that you two have work to do.”
The End