Page 93 of Séance

“My mother denied the family heritage, refusing to be trained in the family hocus-pocus bullshit, as she calls it, but she had the uncanny ability to ferret out secrets. I think that’s one of the reasons my father found her so enticing. His business took off with her help. Maybe he was never a good man, but marriage to my mother twisted him into something dark.” Her face scrunches up in disgust, and she shakes her head.

“When she became pregnant, the family curse hit her hard. She started acting erratic, calling me the spawn of Satan. She demanded an abortion, but the doctors said she was too far along for it not to risk her health.” Gunner mutters a stream of swear words under his breath, practically vibrating in rage, but Rue is too lost in her story and doesn’t notice. “They gave her medication but nothing helped. I think the combination burned out her brain.”

A beat of silence follows, and Rue looks down at her nails like they are the most fascinating things in the world. Before she can pick at them, James pulls a fucking bottle of bright red nail polish out of his ass, opens the bottle, then wiggles his fingers at her in a silent demand.

She blinks at him in surprise, then gives him her hand without protest. After the paint on the first nail is expertly applied, she relaxes. “I did my best to stay away from my parents, but she was convinced I would be the death of her. She did everything she could to beat me into submission. She tormented me day and night, punishing and berating me every chance she got.

“Between the pills and her hatred, I actually believe she drove herself crazy and burned out her brain.” She snorts, as if the story is amusing, her smile grim when she looks up at us. “In the end, she was right. She ended up taking so many pills that she accidentally killed herself.”

I don’t know what to say because I’m not fucking sorry the bitch is dead.

“I thought things would get better, but Father blamed me for her death. For the first time since I was born, he paid attention to me.” She shudders, her face closing down. “That’s when he discovered the family curse passed to me. He began using me for his business deals like he used my mother, but when I refused or got things wrong, I was punished.

“When I was maybe five or six, a teacher noticed the bruises. She reported it and was promptly fired. Soon after, I was yanked from school.” Though her expression doesn’t change, her eyes darken to the color of a storm tossed sea. “An official report was written, saying I was lying for attention and hurting myself. It’s the perfect reason to keep me locked away, right?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Dear old dad would periodically bring doctors over and pay them a small fortune, and my file continued to grow—proof that I was unstable and needed constant supervision.” A snarl of disgust curls her lips.

James pauses in his painting, and I know he’s struggling to remain in control. He gently rests her hand in her lap and snatches up the other one to start the process all over.

“I managed to find Nan through a lawyer, and she broke me out of jail.” Tension eases out of her shoulders, and she leans into Jace like the story exhausted her.

James lifts his head from painting her nails, inspects her fingers for blemishes, then recaps the polish. When he peers up at her, his expression is contemplative. “So you see what’s going to happen, like your nan and mom?”

Things click in my brain, and my gut sinks like I ingested poison. While Nan is a bit kooky and eccentric, no one has the ability to see the future. It’s all about watching micro expressions and body language.

I don’t even realize that I’m speaking until Rue agrees with me. “You’re right—I can’t see the future.”

She looks around the room, then spies her tablet on the table next to the bed. Before she can reach for it, Jace grabs it and hands it over. She flips it open and clutches the attached pen. I startle a little when she touches something on the screen and the TV next to Gunner sparks to life.

I watch as she begins sketching, the image on her tablet mirroring up on the bigger screen. Line by line, a scene takes shape. A man stands in front of the TV with his shirt off, and I can’t take my gaze away when recognition strikes—Gunner.

The strong lines of his shoulders are more defined, his waist tapered, and his muscles are drawn in such sharp detail that they almost seem to ripple across his back. Then, his new tattoo takes shape. She zooms in on the screen, filling out the drawing with such skill that I can only gape in awe, each stroke swift and firm.

No one speaks as she sketches the image. She begins drawing the blank TV screen next. Gunner has his palm pressed to the screen in the drawing, and it isn’t long before an image of a young girl takes shape, and I become lightheaded.

Maggie.

Each detail is painstakingly etched until she comes alive through the screen, and my eyes widen when Gunner stands in front of the TV—just like she drew—and presses his hand against the screen, right where Maggie has her own hand pressed.

Maggie is slightly older, her eyes taking on a golden glow. She stares at Gunner with so much love that my eyes burn.

The room is absolutely silent when Rue slowly lowers her tablet, her voice barely a whisper when she speaks. “I knew Gunner was in trouble the other day because Maggie told me. She couldn’t tell me where or when, but she said he would die without help.”

“That’s impossible.” I pivot to look at her, unsure if this is some sort of cruel trick or if she honestly believes she can see the dead. I examine every moment I spent with her, searching for some sort of explanation, but no matter how I try to work it out, my brain refuses to process the information.

There is no logical way she could have predicted what happened today.

She must have picked something up from the woman or her kids, right?

Same with what happened with the kid in the grocery store. She must have unconsciously seen the kid walk into the freezer, but didn’t register a problem until later when the kid didn’t reemerge.

But what about the uncanny drawing of Maggie? The only explanation is she must have seen a photo somewhere, maybe looked it up online or something.

I just don’t understand why she would do such a thing.

Rue shrugs her shoulder, closes her tablet with a precise movement, and gently sets it aside, the TV going dark with the action. “No two women in my family have the same curse. My malediction, as dear old dad calls it, appeared when I was young. I started talking to nothing but thin air or would play with apet cat that died years ago. I learned quickly to keep it quiet. It would send Mother into a rage.

“But sometimes, when the dead visit, they are…” She looks at the ceiling as if searching for the right word. “Corrupted. They aren’t meant to survive in our realm. The longer they remain, the more they lose their humanity. It’s…not pleasant.”

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