I wish she could leave me. But I know she never will.
The elevator’s familiar hum and cheerful ding announce our arrival on the top floor. I’ve only been here one other time, just last week. It smells clean, perfectly clean, the air purified and washed and dried of everything that goes on underneath it. The rest of the school and dorms smell like women. This floor has not a single scent of perfume or floral shampoo or lotion.
I am the only woman here who Keane will see. I suppose I should be flattered, but he knows I’m the only one who can see him without seeing him. He won’t let Readers or Feelers within two floors of himself, and he never lets any of the psychics see his face, because if we don’t know his face, we can’t recognize him if we see him in a vision.
A bit paranoid, our mysterious boss. Probably comes with the territory when you have US senators killed. Fia still doesn’t know she told me about that. Oh, Fia.
Good thing Darren isn’t bright enough to have figured out that there’s no way I could have seen a vision with Keane in it and known what I was seeing. I step away from the elevator doors. Then I stand. And wait. It’s humiliating. I try to stand as straight as possible, to keep my face perfectly even and composed. I have been living on my few prison floors for so long that being anywhere else without Eden terrifies me. It could all be open. It could stretch on forever without any walls. It could be nothing but an infinite white space.
I don’t know. I can never know. And I can’t do a thing until someone lets me. I miss the way Fia used to hold my hand. I felt like I lost a limb when she stopped doing it.
“This way, Miss Rosen.”
I startle. Someone is right next to me. The carpet up here is so thick, I didn’t even hear him approach. But I know his voice. He is—Daniel. John. Daniel/John. The man who recognized that Fia belonged here, too. Without him, it would have only been me, it would have only ever been me.
“Daniel. Or was it John?”
“You have an excellent memory.” He takes my elbow lightly and leads me to my left. I count the steps. Thirty-two until he directs me to go ahead of him and the carpet changes. It’s a different room this time.
The door closes behind me. He didn’t escort me to a chair. I wish I could kill him.
I know Keane is in the room. I can feel him like electricity, but he doesn’t say anything. So I walk forward, shoulders back, one hand lifted casually in front of myself. What if there is no chair or desk? What if I walk until I run into Keane? The idea of touching him makes me want to turn and run. I stop, and stand where I am.
“Good evening, Annabelle.” His voice is deep and even and devoid of tone.
“I need to know who shot my sister.” I wait. He says nothing. “I didn’t see them. It’s hard to see Sofia when she’s out and acting on pure instinct. She shifts, based on things that don’t make sense, things that shouldn’t affect anything, so we—I—can’t see it. I only get glimpses, and even those don’t always happen. So I need to know who else was there and whether they were there for her or Adam Denting. If they were there for Denting, then we have no more problems because he’s dead. But if they were there for Sofia, that means you aren’t the only one using psychics, which means our problems are very, very big.”
He lets out a considering breath. It is the first noise he’s made aside from his greeting. He does not move. He does not fidget. He is not a person in my head. He is a robot, chrome and steel, without blood, without a heart. I cannot even begin to piece together in my head what this soulless voice should look like.
“You are very bright, Annabelle. Did you know what Adam Denting was working on?”
I do not let so much as a muscle in my face twitch. I knew only what his work would lead to. “I have no idea. It wasn’t a real-life vision. I already told you—I just saw his name swallowing up yours, destroying it.”
“You’re seeing in the abstract now. I find that very intriguing. You will, of course, keep us posted on any more of these idea visions.”
I hate that I had to admit I can see more than just the solid future after promising Fia I never would. But what I really saw—face after face after face of women, women who I knew could see and feel and read, suddenly coming into focus and then fading into black, with a voice that sounded like my own whispering Adam Denting’s name over and over again…I panicked. I had to help those women, keep them safe.
“Of course,” I snap. “It would help if I knew what anyone actually does here, though.” I still don’t. All these years later, everything Fia’s done.
I have no idea what any of it is for.
I am so stupid. After the vision about Adam, I demanded a meeting with Keane and told him the first thing I could think of to get him to order a hit immediately. Oh, Fia, I didn’t want you to have to kill anyone, ever. I never thought they’d send you, but I needed Adam Denting dead.