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Fenn’s rumbly voice from her immediate left settled her in the moment and shame rushed over her as Sienna turned her gaze his way. It had been an impressively long time since she’d so blatantly lost herself like that.My sisters are gonna kill me.She did what she could to push the thought down and adjusted herself to sit so that there was space beside her. If he was willing. “I, um, I’m sorry about that.”
His brow furrowed faintly and he reached out, gently curling his gloved fingers around her bare ones. “You aren’t sick,” he said, “but that doesn’t seem healthy.”
His statement was more than a little odd and she chuckled. “Oh, you could say that again.” She patted the cushion next to hers. “C’mon, it’s story time. Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine?” It was only fair at this point. He wasn’t exactly the first person she’d had to out herself to because of her intrusive visions.
He hesitated, but to Sienna’s surprise, complied enough to sit beside her. With about a half foot of space between them. For some reason, she hated that small, stupid distance immediately.
Sienna drew a breath and dragged her focus to his unyielding stare. She was sure curiosity flickered beneath the calm, cool gaze of his gray-blue eyes. Though it was probably silly to think she could read him so well. “Ishouldinsist you go first,” she said, “but I’ll take the lead if it makes you more comfortable.” She grinned a little. “I am a lady, after all.” She’d never been called one in her life.
The corners of his eyes crinkled with something like amusement. “Ladies first, then.”
She rolled her hands in her lap for a moment, briefly reliving her sisters’ initial reactions to learning that she’d had to tell Sherri. Sherri wasn’t actually the only one she’d told, but her sisters had managed to work together to make the others forget somehow. She’d have to make sure Fenn was educated not just on her secret, but on thesecrecyof it.One thing at a time.“So, ordinarily I’d say this will probably sound crazy, but I’m thinking it might not be the craziest thing you’ve ever heard.” She’d completely forgotten how nerve-wracking it was to reveal this part of herself.
Fenn reached out when she paused and laid his hand lightly over the tops of hers, stilling them. “I guarantee it won’t,” he said.
Sienna offered him a genuine smile. “I’m clairvoyant.” His eyes widened dramatically. “I don’t want to make assumptions about your life experiences, so I’ll explain,” she said. “That means technically I see the future. But not in any chronological, sensible, order. I don’t have great control over it.” She rolled her eyes. “Though it’s been a while since I’ve been as blindsided by a vision as what you saw a few minutes ago. That was super embarrassing.”
Fenn composed himself, his expression settling back into neutral. “So when you said you’d seen me before, that was what you meant?”
Her heartrate spiked. It was a totally logical question. She let out an awkward half-laugh. “Um, kind of?”
His lips dipped into a frown that in no way marred his appeal. “What other answer is there?”
“My visions are usually—” Sienna trailed as she sought an explanation. Finally she lifted her hands and boxed them together, creating a small window that gave a general idea of her viewpoint. “What I see is really compacted, usually short-lived, and the portion I see plays out like a scene. Like a play or something.” She let her hands drop back to her lap. “I have seen you in a vision, but that vision is different in a few ways.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she began ticking off her points on her fingers. “The weird keyhole viewpoint isn’t there when I see you. It doesn’t play out like a scene, it’s not a glimpse of something happening, it’s just a lingering image.” She swallowed. “And it’s the only vision I’ve ever had that’s repeated. Several times.”
He let out a low, thoughtful hum when she stopped and she looked back at him to find he’d leaned back and caught his chin between thumb and forefinger. “That is interesting.”
She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “You never speak,” she said. “There’s no one else around. But I realized, after the second or third time, somehow Iknewyour name. Like I just woke up with the knowledge ingrained in me.” One more nervous breath and she squared her shoulders. “And, you might not know because it might totally be circumstantial, but is there any reason my vision would depict you with bloodstained hands?”
He regarded her quietly.
“My visions are almost always literal,” Sienna said. “But the bloody hands thing feels more like a metaphor.” Except as the words fell from her rambling lips, a possibility occurred to her. There was the thing with Florence—the thing she didn’t understand. Maybe that was connected? After all, as she had literally just explained, the vision she’d repeatedly had of him was different from any other.
Fenn let out a near silent sigh. “I suppose it’s my turn, then.”
Sienna blinked. She didn’t really feel like they’d finished the other track of conversation, but she also wanted to know. About the odd incident with Florence, and him, in general.
He locked his stare on her. “I am Death.”
She waited a moment for him to say more, to elaborate, but he seemed done. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Capital D Death? How can youbea concept?”
His brow pinched slightly. “You’re familiar with the idea of the Four Horsemen?”
Her mouth opened, but it was a second before she was able to articulate a response. As intelligent as it was. “You mean like ‘The Four Horsemen of theApocalypse’ Four Horsemen?”
He tipped his head. “That is the general phrase.”
Sienna twisted to face him. “Are you trying to tell me you aretheDeath? The Pale Rider, the Grim Reaper, the Angel of Death—that Death?” She barely even processed the words coming out of her mouth. And she’d thought her story would be hard to swallow.
“Colloquially, yes,” Fenn said. “I’m not an angel, and only the original Four actually rode creatures resembling horses.”
She dragged in another breath, forcing herself to think about his words and what she’d witnessed. How they correlated. Asking herself if it was even possible. She’d always said she believed in everything. A part of her had even secretly hoped that her grandmother’s fairytale of their family line having been blessed by a goddess sometime in the past—an explanation for the strange powers the women in their family were born with—was true. Despite all that, Fenn’s statement made her doubt, just for a minute.
“Okay,” Sienna finally said. “So you’re like the God of Death. Do you just never turn it off? Or does Florence bring out the worst in you?” Another thought, another memory, immediately followed. “And shouldn’t you be too busy to sit here chatting with some random girl? I mean, it seems weird that you’d be personally … whatevering every single heart attack victim, but that’s gotta be more important, right?” She snapped her mouth shut as soon as she realized she’d started rambling.
Fenn stared at her for a beat, as if she’d overwhelmed him. She probably had. Then he gave a short shake of his head and said, “I’m just Death, and so long as I exist, the cycle functions without my active intervention. I rarelyneedto take part.” He made a sort of grunting sound and looked away briefly. “Though you aren’t wrong about Florence. But put simply, my power is always active. Skin contact is enough to end any life.” His gaze returned to hers with a renewed intensity. “Except, it seems, yours.”
A chill of excitement shot down her spine. Sienna barely held herself in place. “It didn’t look like she was dead when we left.”
