11. Paul #2
“Now, I understand that sounds relatively simple, and you probably just imagine words appearing in my vision or something like that, but it’s not that at all.
Your anger right now? It’s like ozone rippling through the air after a lightning strike.
Not violent, not loud, but a pathway forged by old wounds.
“And the shame? That’s this moldy, decrepit sort of yellow gas that’s billowing toward me like an actual cloud of smoke. Notice that I’m breathing through my mouth? It’s because my power tells me that I can taste it, even choke on it.
“Fondness? It used to be a bright and lively tree, branches tangled but stretching anywhere, with unlimited possibilities. Now those branches are bare, the leaves have fallen into shades of rotted brown and black on the ground, and the roots have all but curled in on themselves.
“And that doesn’t count the echoes of when you were here before, or that of people on the street, or even people driving by. My world is a constant explosion of other people’s stories, and if I’m not careful, they affect my own more often than not.”
“I...” I had to swallow, my brain trying to recontextualize everything I had experienced so far with that new information. “So, when you were in the office...”
“I saw all the pain of every person in that room. I saw their shock, their fear. Mind you, it was faded, but it was still there.”
I could feel my heart picking up in my chest. Cherry had still lied to me, but also, I felt like I was getting a peek behind the curtain at the real truth. And, as horrific as it was, it made me feel closer to those who I had lost.
“But now that I’m being honest with you, I can tell you something else I saw.”
“Oh?” I asked, my voice barely more than a croak. What could possibly be relevant to reveal in this moment?
“When I went to the desk, it was almost like a lighthouse in the middle of an ocean of pain and violence. I didn’t know what it meant at first, until I got to that drawer.
” She didn’t have to clarify what she meant, because I knew exactly what she was talking about as soon as the words left her mouth.
“Even though a lot of those items were years old, I saw layers and layers of love, pride, and affection radiating from every single item.
To me, they were glowing, and I saw a history full of so much fondness and love that I knew I had to help you.
“Yes, I lied. And I know that was wrong. But I am being one hundred percent truthful when I say I want to help you more than anything. I want to make a difference in people’s lives, just like my mother did. What’s the point in having this power if I don’t?
“And whoever killed your brother and your father had no emotional signature whatsoever. They weren’t happy, they weren’t angry, they weren’t afraid, they weren’t triumphant.
Nothing. And as far as I know, even in legend, no living thing just doesn’t have emotions like that.
The closest I could even think of is a golem, which means that we would have to find whoever sent it or constructed it. ”
“That’s why you were canvassing so many people at the market? You were trying to find anyone who didn’t have emotions you could see?”
“Yeah. And I’ll give it to the Whisper, hers were very hard to spot. I really did think it was her. But once she got to safety, they were basically neon flashing signs above her head.”
“But what about the other things?”
“Other things?”
“You knowing about me being a middle child and Chris having plans to petition our father to replace Luther as his heir. Even the assassin.”
“Huh? Oh, that was just my ADHD.”
Now she had to be shitting me. I sent her a look, and she looked confused again. “Your attention deficit disorder?”
“Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, thank you very much,” she shot back.
“The hyper part is just as important as the deficit part. And yeah. Like I said, my mom was really good at reading people from their body language, their word choices, and even little things she saw them doing in her future-sight. She taught me everything she could. You combine that with hypervigilance and thoughts that go a thousand miles an hour at all times without stopping… Well, I just notice things.”
“You just notice things,” I repeated. Apparently, I’d turned into a parrot shifter.
“I know it sounds crazy, but it really is that simple. You can discern a lot from someone’s clothes, perfume, body language, how their hair looks, their hands, the words they say, the order they put them in.
Like, I knew you’d picked up your habit of smoking again because you smelled faintly of cigarette smoke but really strongly of cologne, meaning you were trying to hide it.
There was only the slightest trace of tar around your fingernails, not the prominent yellowing of regular smokers, which meant you were either new to the habit or picking it back up after a long time. ”
“You got all that when you first met me?” I asked incredulously. For some reason, hearing that the woman’s neurodivergence allowed her to miraculously see what most people ignored seemed far less believable than her actually being psychic. Minds didn’t work like that!
“Why do you think I have clients close their eyes while I do their readings? It’s so I can stare. Really get my look on.”
“So, that’s it, then?” I asked, hoping there wasn’t anything else to completely change my perception of how my life was going. “You see people’s emotions and you’re just really observant?”
“Jeez, when you put it that way, you really take the magic out of being an oracle, you know that?” She rolled her eyes, but her expression quickly grew serious again.
“Again, I’m sorry. I know you have no reason to trust me, but please don’t take me off this case.
You don’t even have to talk to me anymore if you don’t want to; I could just do emotional readings over the phone!
I just… I know I can help, and I really want to.
I don’t want anyone in your family to lose anyone else. ”
Her pleas sounded so real but come on, what was I? An idiot? I’d be a fool to trust her. And yet…
“Why the hell would you care about my family at all? Do you even know who us VanMarches are?”
“Well, now I do, yeah. But it’s not about who you are or how much money or power you have.”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about that fucking drawer! I saw real love there, and I’m gonna be frank, I barely see it between you and your siblings now.
You had something beautiful, and now it’s buried under so much shit.
It’s just not right, okay?” Suddenly, Cherry was on her feet.
“So yeah, I want to help your family get that back, and yeah, I wanna solve this mystery. And part of it is because my brain is just like that , but the biggest part of it is that it’s the right thing to do . ”
I was back to staring at her. How could one woman defy so much logic?
“You can’t possibly care that much about us.”
“But I do! I mean, I didn’t at first. When I first asked to see the scene, all I cared about was continuing my mother’s legacy.
I thought I could use you to make connections and ensure Haus de Donmoue didn’t fade into obscurity with my mom’s passing, but that changed.
I swear it did. Especially when I saw the nerves from that assassin.
That made it all real to me. It wasn’t just a game or fun mystery anymore. ”
She sat down suddenly, then reached across the table. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ll say it a million and one times, and I’ll do whatever penance you need, but please, please , let me keep helping you. I know I messed up, but I won’t do it again.”
Logic dictated I should read her the riot act. Reason dictated that I report her to… someone for her scam. Experience told me once a liar, always a liar.
But I didn’t say anything.
A soft meow sounded as a fluffy, white cat sauntered over.
“Hey, Hudson. Bit busy right now.”
The cat did not care, as cats were so often wont to do, and jumped onto the table, headbutting the woman’s arm insistently.
“Sorry,” Cherry said, opening her arms for the animal to primly step into. “She can be a little insistent.”
“It’s in their nature,” I murmured, looking at how the white cat practically blended in with Cherry’s pale pink hair. “My mother loved cats. She grew up with them. Never could convince Father to get one though.”
“Your mother… it was her jewelry in the drawer?”
I nodded. Then, for some reason, I started sharing more. “Her wedding ring, her mating necklace, and her grandmother’s brooch. She wasn’t really into sparkly things—she loved flowers more than gems—but she said the stories of those pieces were far more valuable than any monetary valuation.”
“You miss her.”
Cherry said it so matter-of-factly that I was a bit taken aback.
“Of course I do.”
“No, I mean you miss her. I can see it.” Cherry’s eyes swept over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly her vision told her. “Do you want me to show you?”
Throat thick, I nodded. She was on her feet again, rustling through a full desk in the corner before returning with a sketchbook and a pack of colored pencils.
“This’ll just take a couple of minutes,” she said, her gaze of blue and green cutting through me. “It won’t be, like, a masterpiece or anything, but I just want you…”
She trailed off as she started sketching. I watched her with rapt attention even as a war raged within me.
Was I really being taken as a fool for a second time? If I had a lick of sense, I would march out the door and never talk to her again.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Not because she had some irrevocable hold over me, but because walking out of the door meant I would lose the only person who had believed me when I thought someone else was hunting down my siblings. Also, the only person who could detect the murderer with just a glance.
Unless she’s lying about that too.