Page 69 of Inextricably Tied

“I’m not coming back here!”

Every time, Harbinger gets sucked back in: the arguments, the guilt, the rules and regulations, the strict guidelines of what’s acceptable. The reminders of how lucky and useful she is. The whole suffocates the individual, worship over all. Even now, as Harbinger knows she shouldn’t, she whirls back up the steps.

“I don’t want to do this! I didn’t ask for this! None of us did!”

“You’re the only child that can’t give thanks for the blessed talent the Oracle has given you.”

A nasty laugh escapes Harbinger. “No, I’m not. You just don’t see. You don’t look. For all that extra sight, you ignore everything in front of you.”

Auspice is unyielding. “You’re being selfish. Think of all who could benefit from you, everyone you could help.”

“What about me?”

The crack in Harbinger’s voice stops them both. Exposing a chink in her armor, a fracture in the waver of her lip spreading like the hot pain edging behind her eyes. It’s an echo of Harbinger before, small and scared without the words she needed. Without anyone to hear them.

But that was someone else. Harbinger’s not that girl anymore; she lost her.

“What about us?” Harbinger’s hand thuds against her own chest. “We’re right here. We aren’t just an extension of some holy purpose. We’re people. We were kids. Some of them still are!”

Auspice snatches Harbinger’s wrist with a tide of anger. “Lower your voice.”

Harbinger rips her arm away. “Don’t touch me! Do you know how much I saw? The things no one — no child — should have to, all because you wanted to use my gift? You made me rifle through every object you chose, no matter where it had been. No matter what had happened to it. Horrible things I could never prepare myself for. That I shouldn’t have had to.”

Memories still cling to her like cobwebs, visions that won’t wash away. Tear-stained cheeks, broken bodies, gore and death and everything worse. Secrets darker than the shadows hiding them. Pain that can never be put into words. Ugly truths the Diviners didn’t want to hear.

That’s not what we asked. Find what they’re looking for. The Oracle will lead you where you need to go.

Then why had she led Harbinger here?

“You had no idea what you were asking me to see. You never let me stop. You connected me to people, forever, because you said I should be grateful. I should be happy I was chosen to carry this burden of a blessing. Well, I’m not!”

When Harbinger steps forward, Auspice steps back, alarm radiating through her.

“You make Bodie relive the most traumatic events of people’s lives. You make Omen spend his days at graveyards and funerals, digging through grief to find people to bring back to life. But they’re never the same. He’s never the same. And we all do it because you trained us to. To be selfless. To give up parts of ourselves to serve everyone else, all because of your devotion to something you don’t even know exists. But we exist. We’re right here.”

All the steam slips out of Harbinger in one shaky breath. All her anger, fear, and pain won’t leave her when the words run out.

This means nothing.

This does…nothing.

Harbinger takes another step down, legs trembling. “The worst part is, it doesn’t matter if you understand. If you hear what I say, for once.” Distance returns to her eyes. “The harm is done. You left your mark. You destroyed the person I could have been. You made my father do what he did.”

Auspice has the decency to lower her gaze. Harbinger doesn’t.

“You made us like this. You made me like this.”

Keeping the world at arm’s length. Skirting close enough to the edge to plunge over. Looking for any part of herself that’s worth more than a blessing she hates.

A door opens down the corridor, overflowing with children’s voices. Harbinger winces away from the sound.

“No matter what you do, we’ll always be collateral damage in the holy war you waged.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Flint

Omen comes to the guest rooms with lunch before Harbinger returns. “She’ll be back,” he assures them. “Give her an hour. She has to talk herself into it.”