I believe I can see the future Cause I repeat the same routine I think I used to have a purpose But then again That might have been a dream I think I used to have a voice Now I never make a sound...
Some people who spent hours of their lives meditating describe an experience of enlightenment as feeling their third eye open. That was a little too goddamn gentle in Phaedra Romani's explanation.
Every day in York since the disappearances, Phaedra became a little bit less human than she'd been, and a little bit more robotic. She'd looked for Lindsey and Harry with a single-mindedness that bordered on obsession.
At first.
The longer they'd been missing, the more she went through the motions. She'd scan the minds of the citizens of York for their minds, she'd make phone calls and inquiries. But she didn't leave. She couldn't leave this town without some kind of protector. There were too many things that that Gate could do, and not enough people to handle them.
Something about tonight was different.
When she snapped back into consciousness, a few things happened.
The first was very direct.
She could smell him. Like he was in the house again. Like his heart was beating here, in these walls.
When she got up and got herself together, she did her routine searches. Lindsey first.
And then, it was like all at once, she could feel them all. Harry. Dean's daughter. A few of the others that'd been missing.
Phaedra's eyes changed to their more feral green, in frustration and anger.
"You're fucking KIDDING ME!" she yelled, emerging from her portion of the house and heading for the kitchen. HARRY!
It was a very insistent, telepathic yell. WHAT THE FUCK?!