Page 17 of Devotion

“I suppose hearing you refer to me asSirwas just… unexpected,” he says.

“Well, if you’d like to give me your name, I’d happily call you that instead.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but there’s a hint of amusement in his tone when he speaks again. “Actually,Siris perfectly fine.”

His words are almost melodic, or even hypnotic. Hence the reason I squeeze my eyes tight the next second, refocusing.

“Okay, so back to your question. You mentioned needing help finding someone? Can you tell me more?”

“I’d like to meet a woman,” he says in this pointed way that I’m not quite expecting.

So, it’s a romantic connection he seeks. I can handle that.

“What sort of women do you like?”

“All kinds, but this time, I’m thinking she should be tall, since I’m a big guy.”

My brow arches. “Howbig?”

I realize too late that I probably shouldn’t have asked that, but when he breathes another of those quiet, sultry laughs, I can assume he isn’t offended.

“Six-foot-four.”

Despite it being kind of a moot point, I try to picture him. Try to picture what sort of physical features go well with that height and that voice.

Focus, dipshit.

“Okay, so you want her to be tall. That’s easy.” I pause, humming one long note into the mic while I “tap in”, being all psychic and shit. “Ah-ha! I’ve found this woman you seek. She’s a… librarian. Dark hair, blue eyes, full of life,” I add, pulling these details right out of my ass.

“Interesting,” he croons. “And this librarian, can you tell me anything else about her? Anything more… specific?”

I hum into the mic again, placing my index fingers to my temples. Smiling, I can’t believe how ridiculous I can be sometimes.

“Nope, sorry. It seems the spirit world has gone silent. Guess this means you’ll have to find your mystery woman with what I’ve already told you. Think you can manage?”

He laughs again, and I allow myself to enjoy it this time, guilt-free. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. Thank you, Madam…?”

“Madam Divina Dreamwalker,” I interject.

“Yes, that’s right. How could I forget?” he teases. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Happy to help! Good night.”

I end the call and log out of the system before setting my headset aside. I need a break and could use some more snacks, so I slip on a pair of sweats, then head to the main house. Surprisingly, the back door’s unlocked despite Dad warning me about being more careful, but when I spot him in the dining room, nursing a glass of wine, I can tell something’s not quite right.

He's done this all my life, anytime he’s troubled. He’d sit alone in the darkness with a drink, gazing out the window at nothing in particular. Back in the day, Mom used to join him. When she was having one of her good days, she could be a great listener, but for quite some time now, it’s just been Dad and me, and I do the best I can when he gets like this.

“Knock-knock.” I tap my knuckles against the archway at the entrance of the dining room.

He peers up, seeming to just now realize he isn’t alone. A warm smile curves his mouth, and I smile back, lowering into the seat across from his.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

He reaches across the table and pats my hand before replacing it around his wine glass. “Just doing a bit of self-reflection, sweetheart. Nothing for you to worry about.” His gaze is drawn out the window again, and he falls silent.

My first thought is that this is about the book. Dredging up that particular area of his past is likely re-awakening old demons. Demons that used to keep him up at night, obsessing, listening to those recordings over and over and over again.

He doesn’t speak much about those days, or what they did to his mental state. Still, I often wonder if his obsession is fueled by a false sense of failure. Does he torture himself, thinking he could’ve done something different for his patient? And, in turn, does he think he could’ve done something different for Mom?

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