His reference to his own home asthe siteconfused her until she considered what was probably happening there right now. An investigation into the fire’s causes. A search for evidence, which would surely encompass all the items she’d brought into the apartment.
“I’m fine,” she repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. “What do you want to talk about?”
He shut off the engine, then twisted in his seat until he was angled toward her and took her hand. “I’d like to hear about the vision you were having before you woke up. Just in case what you saw points us in a particular direction orawayfrom a particular direction.”
She obliged—and by the time she finished describing how the fae male had looked back at her and what he’d said, worry had carved deep lines across Hugh’s pale forehead.
“In one sense, your greater proximity to the conspirators in your vision was a boon.” He spoke slowly. “Identifying the two males would certainly open new avenues in our investigation. We’ll look at photos of possible fae conspirators later today. Also human generals who might fit the description of the man you saw.”
There was clearly abutcoming—and she knew what concern they both shared.
“I’d be happy to do that.” After a fraught pause, she forced herself to say it. “Hugh, my interaction with the fae in my vision disturbs me. I’d like to think that my oracular power was simply warning me about the fire, using him to symbolize the urgentthreat to my welfare. Since oracles don’t prophesize about their own futures, though, that seems unlikely.”
A fresh waft of heat drifted through the car, and his hand tightened on hers. “I agree.”
“So maybe…” Gods, even after that IV of fluids, she could barely swallow over her dry throat. “Maybe he really saw me, then. But I don’t know how that’s even possible.”
“Neither do I.” He dragged his free hand through his hair, rumpling its careful order. “The most powerful fae tend to keep their secrets well hidden, however. And one of those secrets could be their ability to somehowconnectto oracles in their visions.”
“In fairness, most Supernaturals and Enhanced humans prefer to hide certain talents and vulnerabilities too. Given our, uh”—blood-soaked—“fraughtinterspecies histories, we’re not the most trusting souls.”
“You’re correct, obviously.” More agitated than she’d ever seen him, he was now emitting enough heat to rival Atlanta in July. “But only the fae were fuckingtalking to youin your vision.Shit, Gwen.”
“If they can connect to seers during our prophecies…” She swallowed again. “Could they pinpoint our locations using that connection? Would that help to explain what happened to those missing oracles?”
He nodded, mouth set in a grim line.
“And if he truly saw me today…” Her anxious mind replayed the instant when he’d smiled at her with such horrifying glee, and her exhalation shook. “I imagine his willingness to show me his face so close-up isn’t a good sign.”
Hugh’s agreement was curt. “No. It’s not.”
That willingness implied she wouldn’t live long enough to identify him to authorities. Or—best-case scenario—that he knew enough about her tattered reputation to assume no one would take her word if she attempted to report him as a culprit in an apocalyptic conspiracy.
“Whatever you were thinking just now…” Hugh leaned forward. Brushed a gentle fingertip over the drooping corner of her mouth. “It made you sad as well as afraid.”
Her face must express her emotions more clearly than she’d realized. “Even if I testified in front of a truthseeker about what I’ve been seeing, no one would believe me.”
“Your friends believe you, Gwen.” His expression softened, and he smoothed a straggling bit of hair away from her temple. “And so do I.”
Her eyes stung with tired tears. “I don’t understand why you do.”
He didn’t answer for a long time. Simply watched his palm smooth down the coppery length of her disheveled braid, his fingertips lingering to pluck at the ribbon securing its end.
“You’re an honorable person,” he said finally, and it didn’t sound like a lie, but…there was still something guarded about the statement. “Even twenty years ago, I could tell you didn’t mean any harm. You lied out of love and desperation, and you hated every moment of it.”
He was right, of course, but—“How did you know that?”
His cell phone, resting face up on the storage recess below the dashboard, buzzed loudly into the silence. Once, then again.
With a glance downward, he checked the name on his screen. Then he blew out a breath, dropped his hand from her hair, and reached for the phone.
“Sorry. I need to take this. Josiah promised to update me about the investigation into the fire.” His forefinger paused above the green circle. “I’ll put the call on speaker so you can hear what’s going on. Officially, though, you shouldn’t be part of this conversation, so please don’t say anything. Also, if the conversation moves on to subjects that don’t involve you or your safety, I’ll take the phone off speaker. Okay?”
She nodded, pleased by the gesture of trust, and he answered the call.
“Josiah.” His voice was professional but warm. “Thank you for calling. What’s happening?”
“I just received the preliminary report.” Goodling’s own voice sounded hushed, as if he were trying not to be overheard. “It’s…not promising, son.”
