Devlin stood at a long window with his back to the room while an older man with gray hair sat scribbling at an ornate desk. He was tall and slender like Dr. Shaw but without the stooped shoulders. This man’s posture was at once rigid and regal, and I knew he was Devlin’s grandfather even though I’d never met him. I could see a resemblance in the set of his jaw and in the way he carried himself.
How I had come to be in that room was unexplainable. How I had become an invisible voyeur to events in Devlin’s recent and distant past, I had no idea. All I knew was that the transformation of my gift had somehow connected us in a way that I’d never experienced until a few days ago.
Like Mariama, Jonathan Devlin seemed to sense my presence. He glanced up, peering into the space where my shadow self lurked before bowing his head once more to his work.
“Come away from the window, Jack. You don’t know who could be watching.”
Devlin turned with a scowl. “I’m not Jack, Grandfather. I’m John.”
“I know who you are,” the elderly man grumbled. “Why must you always interpret everything as a personal affront? Your father never minded the nickname. It goes back for generations in our family. But then, you’ve never cared much for tradition, have you?”
“Maybe I just don’t like the name,” Devlin said.
“Still as stubborn as the day you came to live with me, I see. And twice as infuriating.” His grandfather tossed the pen aside and swiveled his chair toward the window. “Have you given any more thought to the matter we discussed a few days ago?”
“No. And if you intend to start in on me again, save your breath. Nothing you say will convince me.”
“Even after what happened to the other one?”
Devlin turned, leaning a shoulder against the window frame as he folded his arms. “By accident or intent, Mariama drove off that bridge by her own hand. No one else was responsible.”
“How do you know that?” his grandfather demanded.
“Because I know. End of story. Now take your medicine so we can both get some rest,” Devlin said wearily.
“I won’t take another pill until you hear me out. I’m eighty-five years old. I don’t know how much time I have left. After I’m gone, certain obligations and expectations will fall on your shoulders.”
“I’m well aware,” Devlin muttered.
“There has been a Devlin serving in the ranks of that organization for over three hundred years. With your father gone, you’re the next in line, and you know what that will entail. Everyone around you will be scrutinized, including that woman. She may fly under their radar now, but once the vetting process starts, they’ll find out about her and it won’t be pretty. She is anathema to everything they stand for.”
Devlin just shook his head. “This is pure fantasy, Grandfather. These people aren’t real. You dreamed the whole thing up or maybe you read it in a book and now you’re confused. Or maybe this is your way of trying to get me to do what you want. Whatever the case, let me make something perfectly clear. I’m not going to stop seeing Amelia Gray because her profession and background don’t meet with your exalted standards.”
His grandfather’s fist came down hard on the desktop. “This isn’t about standards! It isn’t about her profession or her people. Don’t you understand that? It’s about her.”
“Grandfather—”
“Open your eyes, Jack. Use your instincts. You know what she is.”
*
What am I? I wondered as I spun up out of the memory.
I had asked Papa that very question and he’d had no answer. How was it that Jonathan Devlin, a man I’d never met, seemed to know something about me that my own grandfather couldn’t explain?
This is pure fantasy, Grandfather. These people aren’t real.
I was still swirling in a haze, lost in all those questions when I realized Devlin was peering down at me through narrowed eyes.
“What did you call me?” he asked in a strained voice.
I shook my head slightly trying to clear the fog. “What?”
“Just now. You called me Jack.” His grip tightened. “No one but my grandfather has ever used that name. You’ve talked to him, haven’t you? Did he call you? Come to see you? What did he say to you?”
His sudden agitation startled me. “Nothing. That is...I haven’t spoken to him. I’ve never even met him.”
Devlin’s expression hardened. “There’s a reason for that. He isn’t to be trusted. But if you haven’t talked to him, why did you call me Jack just now?”
I shook my head helplessly. “I’ve no idea. I don’t know anyone by that name. But your grandfather has been so much on your mind lately. Maybe it was some sort of telepathy.”
Something flashed in his eyes. The memory of his grandfather’s warning perhaps. You know what she is.
“I don’t see how that could be possible,” he said.
“There are a lot of things in this world that can’t be explained.”
“Now you sound like Rupert Shaw.”
“I can think of worse things.”
He ran a hand through his hair as he glanced out over the garden. “You know I don’t put stock in that sort of thing. It’s a dangerous road to go down.”