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“I have no son by that name,” Gerald replies coolly.
“Oh my God,” Mrs. Abner gasps softly. She sits forward in her chair, her hands gripping tightly onto the sofa arm as if to steady herself. “You’re not talking about Nicholas, are you? Oh, thank the gods! My boy is alive. He is, isn’t he?”
I don’t want to give her the news, but if there’s a chance they can help Seer, I have to.
“He is fine, ma’am.”At least, for now…I sigh softly and shake my head. “But I’m afraid he’s not in good condition. That’s why we’re here.”
Mrs. Abner raises a shaky hand to her mouth. “Wh… what are you talking about?”
“Seer was involved in an accident and has been in a coma for the past few weeks,” I explained calmly. “Apparently, the coma has nothing to do with the accident but everything to do with his sight. Someone is blocking Seer’s vision with sorcery and it’s killing him. We’re here to find out if there’s a way we can….”
“Enough of this nonsense,” Gerald interrupts in an authoritative voice. “You will not talk about that ungrateful brat. Nicholas ceased to be my son the day he turned his back on his family. Do not waste your time, gentlemen. There’s no miracle here for him.”
“But, Gerald….”
A piercing glare from her husband cut Mrs. Abner’s plea short. She closes her eyes, and a helpless tear slips down her left cheek.
“I believe we’re done here,” Gerald says coldly, rising to his feet. “Goodbye, gentlemen. Henry will see you out.”
And with that, he turns around to leave, his wife and daughter trudging quietly behind him.
* * *
Once outside the Abner Mansion, Bones let out a long string of atrocious words, angrily kicking the ground with the heel of his right boot.
“It would be so much fun to snap Gerald Abner’s pompous neck,” Bones snarls angrily. “Scratch the nonsense I said about paradise. Gerald Abner has got to be the fucking devil himself. The bastard doesn’t even care if his son dies.”
I run my fingers through my hair. I understand Bones’ frustration, especially since I’m not far away from snapping myself. The trip here has turned out to be a total waste. Even worse, we’re back to square one with Seer. I feel like going back inside and doing bodily harm to the old man myself.
“What happens now?”
The question keeps echoing in my head over and over again until I have to grind my teeth against the urge to punch something to a bloody pulp. It’d be great if it was Gerald’s face on the receiving end of my blows. I fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of my cut. I light up and take one long drag.
“What’s gonna happen, Prez?” Bones asks in a more subdued tone. “Seer isn’t gonna die, is he?”
I sigh softly, letting the cigarette smoke escape through my mouth and nose. “Not on my watch.”
I don’t know how I’m going to make good on my promise, but I’d scale the gates of hell if that’s what it took to save Seer. Gerald Abner may have gotten his way today, but he definitely hasn’t seen the last of me. I’ll be back again and again until I get the answers I want. I throw the cigarette stub to the ground and stamp it with my boot.
A movement in the distance catches my attention. I frown slightly in confusion as I watch a little boy making exaggerated hand gestures from behind a rosebush in the garden by the house. “Is that…,” I turn my confused frown at Bones. “Is he…?”
Bones smirks at me, his eyes lit with amusement. “I think the lad wants you to move closer, Prez.”
I look around to see if there is anyone else in sight, but there’s only the little boy whose hand movements are getting more desperate. I gesture for Bones to watch my back while I walk over to him.
I stop a few feet from the blue-eyed boy. He looks to be around four years of age, but his face has maturity to it. His age has nothing to do with the intelligence in those familiar endless blue depths of his. This boy could pass as Seer’s offspring with his dark curls and somber features.
“Hey, little man,” I greet with a hesitant smile. “Want something?”
“You can’t let grandfather see you,” he says in a loud whisper, gesturing for me to join him in his hiding place.
I lower myself to his height behind the rosebush. “Better?” I ask in a conspiratorial whisper, and he replies with a jerky nod. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Harry.”
“What do you have for me, Harry?”
Harry reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a folded paper. “Mama wants me to give this to you.”
