Page 55 of Inextricably Tied

“The cuffs are a sex thing. One hundred percent.”

Agony points toward the final speaker. “That one is true.” Harbinger shoots him a glare. Flint runs a hand down his face.

Poe leans in from the side. “Forgive them: no one cool ever visits us.”

Flint almost gets lost in the chatter, but Poe slows the banshees down, introducing each one in turn. Despite their similar skeletal patterning, their clothing and hair are as varied as their personalities. Very few have Harbinger’s black marks creeping up their fingertips. Some have the marks — Veil marks — across their eyes, dripping from their ears, spilling from their mouths. Some have no black marks at all — at least, not where Flint can see — but all the marks tie to their abilities.

Eventually, the banshees sprawl across cushions and dilapidated couches, forming a semi-circle in front of their guests. Wrapped in throw blankets, hugging pillows, perched on the arms of chairs as Harbinger speaks.

“There’s a man who’s killed young girls. He’s been arrested, but we need to find out what he’s done with their bodies. We’ve tried using my ability, but we keep coming up empty. If you all agree, we want to see if you can find anything. Only if you want to,” she adds, pain wedging into her voice. “It’s your choice. I hate to ask, but it’s pretty dire.”

A banshee with black marks bleeding out of their ears cuts in. “Who are you thinking to help?”

“Bodie, of course. You.” Harbinger’s jaw clenches. “Herald. Maybe Augury? I’m not going to turn anyone down who wants to try.” She looks toward Agony. “And Agony is a night terror. He was extracted from the killer’s mind. He’s…” Harbinger struggles for words, none of which are true. Harmless. Not dangerous. “Fine. You may be able to use him with your powers, but keep your distance. Don’t touch him, to be safe.”

A few banshees’ mouths drop open before they volley Agony with questions, undisturbed by any danger he might pose. So that’s where Harbinger gets it. Agony basks in the attention as the banshee voices topple over each other.

“We should get the candles. For crystals, do you think moldavite or…”

“Maybe I could hear something. Yeah, I know she said don’t get close.”

After a few minutes of planning, a handful of banshees wave their goodbyes. Other Seers disappear to gather supplies, and the final few linger on the edges of the room, offering suggestions that Poe makes note of. Omen turns to Harbinger from his perch on the arm of the couch.

“You know I want to help…”

“I know,” she answers. Omen’s blackened hands flex. “I know it doesn’t work like that.”

Poe directs Agony to sit on a coffee table facing the entrance of the room, fluffing a cushion for Flint close by. Seers move in and out of the room, shutting curtains and squealing at Agony’s glowing smile. One of them offers slices of toast with jam. Flint declines, but Agony scarfs it down.

“His aura’s intriguing, actually.” A banshee with deep blue hair traces Agony’s shape through the air. “I expected it to be murkier, but it’s actually quite clear.”

Agony rocks forward. “What color is it?”

She holds her fingers up like she’s looking through a camera. “Orange and yellow. Very vibrant. Scintillating. Full of life for someone who…isn’t.”

Flint disguises a laugh before the banshee turns to him. “Yours is very good, too. More muted: green and blue and brown. Earthy. Solid. A nice contrast to his, so say the Oracle.”

Another banshee inclines their head toward Agony. Harbinger leans over their shoulder. “Do you hear anything?”

The banshee shakes their head. Flint keeps a firm grip on Agony. Agony leans toward him, pressing the warmth of his mouth against Flint’s ear. “You’re squeezing a little tight, Jasper dear.”

Flint’s scowl deepens. He loosens his fingers — but only marginally. The banshee sits back on their cushion, tugging at their bun as they think. “I do hear something, but it’s a lot of whispers.” They look between Harbinger and Flint. “About you two.”

Agony narrows his eyes. “What’s your superpower again?”

Harbinger tenses. The banshee snickers at her, tilting their head toward Flint. “You want me to listen to him too?”

“You’ve heard quite enough.” Harbinger grips the banshee’s elbow, ushering them away as Poe stands in front of the table again.

“We’re going to set up the séance. Bodie’s going through the information you have to see if any of it sparks something. We’ll keep Agony here, in the center, to see if he can bring any spirits in. We need you to focus on the girls, ok? Any memory you have of them.” Poe rests her hands on Agony’s shoulders. Flint fights the urge to rip them away.

Bodie perches in a windowsill, sorting through the photographs and knick-knacks from the case files. She keeps a small pile to the side, one hand hovering over it before she touches the black marks spilling from her mouth.

Half-burnt candles and crystals line the room, blues and purples and whites on every available surface. “We need you two to stay still, ok?” Poe reminds Agony and Flint as the Seers close the rest of the curtains. “Don’t want you slipping through any gaps between the Veil. It’s a nasty recovery process.”

Around Agony, incense curls toward the ceiling. A bowl of oil passes between them as the Seers take their seats around them. Flint watches the others before he follows suit, smearing oil against his pulse points.

Firelight flickers off of Bodie’s face, the missing girls’ names carved into the candles before her. Greer. Rachel. Effy…