Page 27 of Seer

“What?” I blink at Pocus in surprise. “Dana has a son now?”

“Yes. His name is Harry.” Pocus smiles at me, happy to share the news. “He’s a bright boy, and he looks a lot like you. He has the same eyes. From what she said, Edward’s plan is to take your sight and give it to Harry. But Dana doesn’t want that burden for her son.”

“Wow.” I feel my insides twist with an emotion akin to sadness or nostalgia. Dana has a son. My brother wants me dead. “I guess a lot has happened since I left.”

I have many questions about home, my mom and Dana… and even little Harry, but I can’t seem to put any of them into words. In some ways, I no longer have the right to wonder about them. I’m the one who left.

“What now?” Pocus asks, searching my face.

“I need to find Edward before he finds me.”

* * *

“You're telling me you have a twin named Edward Abner? Did I hear that right?” Snake asks, shaking his head at me. “Because as far as I can tell, the man might as well be a ghost. I couldn’t find a damn thing on him.”

“Edward has always been good at hide and seek,” I say, remembering the days when we were much younger. Even then, Edward knew how to blend well with the shadows.

“I’m sure you’d find something if you dig deeper, Snake,” Pocus says from his spot on one of the rocking chairs.

It’s a silent afternoon, with the sun bouncing its rays over the porch in evasive strips. I prefer to sit here and bask in its warmth while sharing a jar of moonshine with Pocus, but wishes aren’t horses, and each ticking second without news of Edward emphasizes the imminent danger.

“I hear you, Prez,” Snake says, closing up his laptop. “I’ll keep looking, but I suggest we look for alternatives.”

Snake packs up and heads into the clubhouse. Neither Pocus nor I make a move to break the silence that lingers with Snake’s departure. I look toward the beaming sun. It’s extra bright today… a mocking irony. The sun has always been persistent company on this porch. In the mornings, it peeks shyly from behind the vivid blue sky. Then, in the afternoons, it becomes temperamental. It either chooses to be harsh or teasing like now. The sun paints a scenic picture in the evenings–a huge bright globe slowly disappearing into the dark clouds. A fascinating character at every moment of the day. A pleasant distraction from whatever worries may plague us humans.

And here I am, thinking about the sun to avoid the nagging feeling of suspicion in my heart. It feels like saying it out loud makes it more real… scarier.

I glance at Pocus. He’s sitting loosely in his chair with an arm draped over the back, quietly nursing a glass of moonshine rum. Pocus may seem relaxed on the surface, but I’ve known the man for too long to fool myself into thinking he isn’t hyper-aware of his surroundings. He is patiently waiting for me to sort my thoughts while silently reassuring me of his support.

“I feel different,” I muse quietly. “Is it possible to feel lighter than a feather, yet heavy as lead?”

Pocus frowns with worry. “Do you feel sick?”

I almost laughed at his question. “I couldn’t bear being sick again. Any more of those herbs Tory gives me might kill me.”

Pocus doesn’t laugh like I expected him to. Instead, he leans forward in his seat with a deep frown of concern. “Is something wrong, Seer?”

I shake my head slowly, ignoring the knot in my throat. “I think I’ve lost my sight.”

“What? Are you certain?”

“Almost. Maybe?” I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know, man. I feel weird. Since I woke up from a coma, I have been dreaming every night. Random intangible pictures.”

“You never dream,” Pocus says, shaking his head in confusion.

“My point exactly,” I reply with a shrug. “I don’t feel anything. And now, I’m wishing for the pain and burning itch I was feeling before the crash. The misery was way better than this emptiness.” I shake my head, letting out a self-deprecatory chuckle. “You know, a long time ago, I used to think I didn’t want the gift of sight. I would pray endlessly to whatever supreme being would listen to my earnest request. I’d ask for the sight to be taken away. But all that was before I found the MC… before I knew what good I could do with the sight. Now that it’s gone, I’m lost. It’s my identity, my fucking name. What’s Seer without his sight?”

I drop my head into my hands, taking in a shaky breath. I didn’t intend to rant like this, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. For the past week, I’ve tried to convince myself that nothing had changed, even without my gift. It hasn’t worked.

“Calme toi, mon ami.”

Pocus’s reassuring voice broke through the web of fear quickly spreading in my heart. I raise my head to look into his eyes, drawing from his strength.

“I’m scared, man. What if I never get it back?”

“You’d still be Seer, my best mate and the vice president of the Ruthless Kings.”

“Does that mean…?”

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