I was lying on a couch in Quillan’s office, my unblinking stare fixed to the roof as images and words ran rampant inside my head, seemingly without order or meaning. I had recounted my entire vision to Quillan—who had, in turn, recounted it to Noah and Cabe, but although I was able to dispassionately narrate the scenes of my memory to them, I hadn’t yet fully come to terms with the blinding pain that was ripping through my chest, breaking my heart all over again.
I mourned the loss of a twin I had never known—while holding onto the knowledge that he had brushed past me in corridors and stalked me relentlessly for years. Noah and Cabe were eager to hunt Danny down and tear into him with everything that they had, but I forced them to stay in the office with me, the vision of Danny disabling agent after agent with only the brush of his fingers warning me to keep my pairs away from him.
“Seph.” Quillan pushed a glass of water into my hands and kneeled beside the couch. “Will you talk to me, please? Say something.”
“I think I’m in shock,” I mumbled. “I feel like I’ve just lived through everything for the first time, I’m still trying to compute it all. I want to go and see Eva. I want to talk to Jayden.”
“We’ll do all of that,” he promised, “but right now I have a lecture to give, and Danny will be there. If I don’t turn up, it might spark his interest. We don’t want him to get suspicious yet, do we?”
“No.” I vehemently shook my head. “Not yet. I need to talk to Jayden first. I need to find out why he’s so scared of Danny. I think I know why… I mean, it’s obvious… but I need to be sure. And then I’m going to confront him. Alone.”
Quillan’s frown appeared, but he quickly smoothed it away. “We’ll go over the plan later. You two, don’t leave her alone.” He turned to Noah and Cabe, who weren’t as successful at hiding their frowns as he had been. “I’ll deliver my lecture and be back in an hour. Nobody leaves this room, understood?”
He extracted a grunt out of Noah before grabbing his briefcase and storming out of the room, his shoulders tight with anxiety.
“I always hated that guy,” Cabe admitted, picking up my legs so that he could sit beside me on the couch. “Never liked him for a second.”
“Not helping.” I scrubbed a hand over my face.
The chill of premonition still sat on my shoulders. I couldn’t seem to shake it off. I felt the need to turn for a paper and pencil again, but I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle. I no longer wanted to know about the messenger, about Danny. My eyes kept straying to the notepad on Quillan’s desk anyway, and eventually Noah picked it up, snagged a pen, and handed it to me.
I took the items from him silently, touching pen to paper almost unwillingly. As much as my mind rebelled against the task, my fingers automatically moved into motion, outlining another desk. I almost pulled back from the vision, but something about the desk was familiar, and so I kept drawing. A sense of urgency settled over me as I looked up from the page to Quillan’s desk, which was turned diagonally so that the back was facing the window and the front was facing the door. It was the exact angle of the desk I had just drawn. The urgent feeling swelled, building inside me until I was propelled to stand and move toward the piece of furniture. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt a sudden and overwhelming impulse to duck beneath the desk.
I crouched down, warring with my instincts even as I pushed the chair away. Eventually, it became too difficult to fight, and I checked the empty space beneath the desk before crawling in and sitting down, the notebook tucked into my lap. Noah and Cabe came around to stand beside me, and I could tell from the looks on their faces that they were suddenly worrying for my sanity. I put a finger to my lips, still unable to shake the premonition that rode me, and pulled them down to my level.
Cabe was the first to join me, hunching beneath the desk to face me, his legs stretched out on either side of mine. Noah crawled in behind me, needing to sit me on his lap so that we could all fit inside the cramped space with our legs tangling in the middle. I held my finger to my lips again and only a second later, the door to the office burst open. I heard the gentle thud of booted feet walking over the carpet before the person paused. The static sound of a radio-transceiver filled the room.
“Top floor of faculty offices have been cleared,” a male voice declared.
“Received,” came the reply. “Faculty hostages have been moved to the common area of the administration building and all phones have been confiscated. Close off entries and exits.”
“Consider it done,” the man said, striding back to the hallway and closing the door behind him.
Cabe mouthed, “What the hell?”
I didn’t know how to reply. I had no idea what was going on, so I only shrugged at him, wide-eyed. Noah pulled his phone out and I saw him call Quillan. It didn’t even ring—his screen flashed, saying that the number was busy. I no longer felt the burning need to hide beneath the desk, but that might have simply been because the odd forecasting had run its course.
I placed the notebook aside and whispered, “Did he say hostages?”
“That’s what I heard.” Noah’s voice was low against my neck. “Do we need to stay in here?”