Page 61 of Inextricably Tied

“She can’t control it. You said so yourself.” Flint folds the drawing into his pocket. “Maybe it’ll make sense as we get closer.”

“We’re not going to…” But Harbinger trails off as Bodie approaches, apologetic smile on her face. “Oh no,” Harbinger breathes. “You couldn’t get anything either?”

“I’m sorry, I tried. Sometimes a group is too powerful, so I tried reaching out to the girls on my own.” Bodie shakes her head. “I couldn’t find anyone, not even the spirits that are usually around.” At their crestfallen faces, Bodie cringes. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could choose who the Oracle lets through.”

“I know.” Harbinger shoots a guilty look toward Flint. “She only lets you see what you need.”

Harbinger thanks her and moves away to gather the casefiles. Agony follows, but Flint stops Bodie around the corner.

“I wanted to know…” His voice strains. Agony lingers on the other side of the wall. “If you might help me, just the two of us. Maybe we could reach…”

“I’m sorry.” Bodie’s voice is soft. “I looked for your sister, too. Yesterday was just too traumatic for her. Sometimes spirits need to rest after making contact.” She considers her words before she finishes. “And your sister’s been trying to get in touch with you for a long time.”

Neither of them speaks for a moment. Across the room, Harbinger stacks the folders. Agony strains to hear Flint.

He sounds deflated. “I understand. Thank you for all your help.”

Agony isn’t fast enough. Flint turns the corner, catching Agony by both arms to keep him from stumbling. Flint’s brows knit. There’s a weary weight that doesn’t leave his eyes as he stares into Agony’s.

Harbinger appears behind them. Flint releases Agony before he turns to make his way back down the corridor.

And there’s that fucking feeling again.

TWENTY-ONE

Harbinger

Flint stops Harbinger outside the guest quarters. Agony raises his brows, but mercifully, leaves them near the staircase. It’s been a long night of back and forth. Harbinger’s body is rusty and worn, focused on the bed waiting for her to crash into it, but Flint’s concern rouses her drowsy mind. “What is it?”

Pressure constricts through Harbinger’s chest. Being back here, at the Convent, leaves her on edge, but it’s left an imprint on Flint, too. Suddenly finding — then losing — a connection with his sister has taken a toll, but there’s more to it. Harbinger doesn’t need her ability to name the tension the two of them haven’t addressed. The things they aren’t saying. The topic neither of them have been brave enough to breach.

“After yesterday…” Flint runs a hand through his hair. “I need to ask. I need to know where we stand.”

She knows what’s coming. What they should have addressed the first night. What she’s been avoiding for months. It doesn’t make Flint’s words land any easier.

“Are you only sleeping with me because you have no other options?”

Her head jerks. It’s not what she expected him to say, wrong enough to throw her off-balance. She grapples for an easy answer. “You asked me that before.”

“And I’m asking you again. Now that you’ve had some time to think about it.”

His gaze levels on hers, a question she isn’t escaping. Inside herself, she reaches for the tap of his emotions, to get a feel for where he’s coming from — but there’s nothing there. No flow. Not a drip.

He barricades his emotions from her, locking them down and shaking his head. “Don’t use that.”

Her jaw clenches. She hates that he knows that’s what she reached for, that it’s the first thing she tried. That she’d cheat to make this easier, use her powers to an unfair advantage. Her tongue runs over her lip and comes back tasting salt. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t want to go back to your exes, so there’s no one else who can touch you like I can. I’m not blaming you if you are. It’s fine.” It doesn’t look fine, from the steel rod through his spine. “Just want to be on the same page about what we’re doing.”

Her mouth is dry. “Why would you think that?”

His laugh drives a spike through her chest. It’s barely a breath, like he can’t find any humor for it. Like she should know the answer. “Come on, Harbin.”

Of course she knows. She’s been careful with what they share, what they do, always pulling back before they talk about what they are. But a different guilt gnaws at her chest, a different fear she’s not ready to face.

“No, you’re not — the only option. That’s not why.” It’s like she’s sliding down a cliff face, grappling for a handhold. “Do you want more than what we’re doing?”

“This isn’t about me.”