Page 50 of Inextricably Tied

It’s enough. Flint moves to pull Harbinger away, to find another way of doing this — but Agony’s stops him, chin jerking toward Harbinger.

She doesn’t retreat. Doesn’t ask Flint to step in. And something about that wounds him. He settles back when Harbinger speaks again, her voice softening the same way it does after she visits with the families.

“We’re looking for young girls. Dozens of them, probably dead. We need to find where they are to give their families some peace. That’s what you do here, isn’t it?” Gloved hands clench at her sides. “Use the Oracle to help people who need it?”

Even with the two women at odds, their similarities are as distinct as their contrast. All black, catsuit leather clashing against humble robes. Diviner Auspice’s defiance fights past her reverence while Harbinger struggles not to give into ingrained deference.

The prodigal daughter returned.

One thing is clear — no matter how Harbinger tried to escape this place, she hasn’t gotten out unscathed.

“We do not use the Oracle,” Diviner Auspice corrects. “The Oracle uses us.” But she looks over them for a long moment before she continues. “The others are in their rooms for the night. You may stay in the guest quarters until tomorrow, and if the Seers have time, you may speak with them.”

Then she turns, not waiting for them to follow.

Inside the rock formation are catacombs, tunnels dug into stone that lead past walls of skulls and bones. Agony edges closer to Flint. Flint pries Agony away, but he can’t deny the eerie feeling lingering at his back. Hanging torches guide them through twists and turns large enough for Flint to fit through comfortably. The Diviner Superior brings them up a set of stone stairs to a landing with smaller wooden doors.

“Breakfast at dawn. You may eat after our students have finished.”

Harbinger presses open one of the doors. “I remember you treating guests with a bit more hospitality.”

“Those patrons honor the Oracle.” The woman eyes Flint and Agony as they enter.

Harbinger’s laugh is brittle. “And I guess we’re fucking spitting in her face.”

Red flares up the woman’s neck. Flint wraps an arm around Harbinger’s waist. “Thank you for your generosity.” Then he tugs her back into the room and swings the door shut.

He and Agony hold their breath until a flurry of footfalls disappear, and Flint releases Harbinger’s tense body from his grasp.

“Someone’s the black sheep of the family.” Agony sprawls out on the mattress on the floor, swimming among woven blankets. “Is that, like, your grandma?”

“No.” Harbinger pops open her suitcase, rifling through it with no purpose. “None of us are related. She’s one of the leaders, the head of all the Diviners. The Superior. They bring banshees here when they get their curse.”

Flint tracks her movements: sharp angles, rigid legs, haphazardly discarding things. “Curse?”

“Abilities. Powers. Whatever.” Harbinger knocks the lid shut, tossing a nightshirt onto the bed. “I’m gonna shower.”

She strips out of her catsuit, leaving it hanging open around her waist as she disappears through an open doorway at one end of the room. Agony watches her go, but as Flint scowls, Agony turns back with a derisive look.

“Seems homey.”

Flint sinks into a large cushion on a rock seat curving out from the wall. “She told me about it, a little. But I didn’t know it was this…charged.”

Agony pushes up to rest elbows on his knees. “What did she tell you?”

“She came here when she was young. Twelve, I think. The timing is different for each of them, but that’s when it started for her.”

Harbinger keeps parts of her past close to her chest, sharing just enough that someone won’t pry for more. So Flint didn’t — something he hadn’t realized until Agony shined a light on it.

“I don’t know exactly what happened here” Flint adds. “Or what happened before. She’s always seemed conflicted when she talked about it.”

“What did she mean by ‘using the Oracle’ to help people? What’s the Oracle?”

“Not sure.” Flint scowls at the way Harbinger phrased it. “The Convent hosts people in need. People who can benefit from a banshee’s abilities. People who need help communing with the dead or reading auras or anything else banshees can do.”

“So they aren’t all like her?” Agony’s head tilts toward where the shower kicks on. “They don’t all ‘read’ things?”

“No, every banshee is different. Their commonality is they all access things that aren’t in the physical world.”