Chapter 10: Contemplation
“Wait, Liz.” Owen stopped her from dealing the next hand. “I want to tell you all something. I’ve been doing some research. I wanted to find out if it’s totally unique that we have this group of people with particular ... skills. I thought there might be something out there about other groups like ours.”
“Do you mean, other groups of people with divine gifts―” I blurted, then bit my lip to stop myself.
They all stared as though they had never thought of the term ‘divine’ before, at least in relation to themselves. But Owen nodded, his eyes lighting up.
“Yes, that’s one of the things that popped up a few times! Mystics, psychics, clairvoyants, diviners, that sort of thing, who found each other and formed collectives of various kinds. There have been other groups throughout history, and across different countries of the world, with similar abilities within the groups.”
It shocked all of them. Liz’s mouth dropped open and Jude edged forward, intrigued. Cain wore a frown. Owen talked us through his research. He’d searched on the term ‘groups of mystics’ to find present-day and historical collectives of the divine. He’d found data suggesting a history dating back thousands of years: Mesopotamia and Pagans, Buddhism, Ancient Greece, early Christianity, and indigenous populations. Owen described representations of higher beings on cave walls, in art museums, and on chapel windows. Was he going to work it out without me? Maybe they were on their way to understanding their powers without needing my input after all.
“There are others out there?” Cain repeated. “Now?”
“I don’t think we’re the only ones,” Owen said. “I think there could be other networks of people with abilities like ours.”
“Can we find them?” Cain stood up to pace the room, and then paused, looking at the other three. “But you’re not―” He stopped himself.
“We’re not fully fledged yet,” Owen said with a self-conscious smile.
Liz watched Cain anxiously but he simply smiled. “True. We should be patient. When we’re all ... fully fledged ... then we can go looking. Find out if there are others.”
His gaze swept around us all and included me. No one voiced what was so painfully obvious to me: we would never all be ‘fully fledged’ saints. Specifically, I would never be one. And, when Cain had found his entire group, when they were all receiving divine messages, and when they made contact with other saints across the world, there would be no place for me.
At home, later in the evening, I could be more objective. Part of me was pleased Owen had made this discovery. It was a step forward for them in finding out what they were. It was simply a matter of time now. Owen was smart and he’d found the word divine. I was willing to bet he’d work it out soon enough. He might even make contact with another of the networks he’d mentioned, and then they could initiate our group into an understanding of their holy status. Not our group, I corrected myself. Cain’s group. I had to keep reminding myself I was not part of this. I was just a bystander; an accidental witness to this unearthly event.
The next night, a group assignment meeting in the college library dragged on too long and by the time I noticed the hour it was already after eight. I tried not to speed on my way out to Gaunt House, cursing my study group aloud for detaining me. When I finally burst into the candlelit chamber everyone was surprised to see me so agitated. Panting, I explained my tardiness.
“It’s okay,” Jude assured me. “We knew you’d come.”
They did know. None of them even bothered to look relieved except, perhaps, for Cain.
Something seemed different. I realized with shock that there was a thin, freckled redhead sitting amongst them, playing Scrabble. I stared.
“This is Nadine,” Cain told me. “I found her at a bus stop today.”
It would have been a bizarre explanation under any other circumstances but I knew Nadine must have been one of the faces Cain saw. The girl nodded at me as she swigged from a beer.
“Hiya.”
“I’m Frankie,” I said.
“Yeah. They said you were coming.”
“Nadine’s studying graphic design at college,” Liz added, possibly trying to make the introduction more ordinary for me.
“Yep, messed up on my final school exams.” She grinned. “I wanted to go to university but had to take the next best thing.”
I gave a weak laugh and accepted the beer Jude offered me, sinking onto the sofa beside Cain.
“Tell us what you saw today,” he said to Owen almost before I’d sat down.
“The driver is getting closer,” Owen told him. “Same car, same road but this time I could read the sign. It said Haverton, home of the Lichfield Dam. Sixty miles. I saw part of his plate, too. Nine-oh-seven.”
“Haverton,” Nadine said thoughtfully. “That’s south-east, I think.”
I was stunned, and maybe a little jealous, to see how easily she took this all in. Had they already explained how they all saw visions just like her, and what they did with those visions every evening? Or did she just know when she met Cain? Maybe they recognized it in each other. She watched Liz write, bright-eyed, a smile playing around her lips. She was probably relieved to know her visions had some meaning; that she wasn’t alone. Envy flickered inside me.
Jude produced a map and traced his finger over potential routes. “So he could be on the Brook Highway or Old Myamup Road.”
“If only we knew what he was going to do there,” Liz said.
“Or whether he’s even going to Haverton,” Owen added. “Maybe he’s just passing through.”
“We don’t have enough information,” Liz sighed. “Cain, did you find out anything?”
“I did some research on the house Jude mentioned,” he told her. “Sixteen McNally Street. A woman lives there with her two little sons.”
“Can you warn her something’s going to happen?” Nadine asked.
Cain shook his head. “I’ve tried that before, many times. Doesn’t work. You have to stop the act itself. It’s like every bit of energy is whirling the people towards what’s going to happen and it’s only when you physically put yourself in between the person who does it and the event itself that you have any effect.”
They went through their other visions, Liz scribing again. Jude had seen two visions and Nadine three. She relayed them to the group as though she’d been describing celestial messages to a bunch of strangers under a ruined building her whole life.
“It was interesting,” she said. “I was at my local shopping center, in the carpark, loading my shopping into the trunk. Then I looked up and saw a flash of red and there’s this guy. He’s got a holey knitted jumper on and he’s muttering to himself like some of these crazies do, you know? I got an impression he was saying activist stuff. Like ... ‘ruthless corporations’ and ‘destroying livelihoods.’ That kinda shit. A couple of old ladies were staring at him, looking freaked out. It was a bit of a crack-up, actually.”
Once again it was like I could see what she described: a man in a red-brown jumper full of fraying holes, walking past a trolley bay sign in the dim of an undercover carpark.
“Context?” Cain asked. “Was he there? At the same place as you?”
“Yeah, it was the same carpark. I could see the discount chemist behind him.”
“Time of day?”
“Early afternoon I think.”
Liz had seen an old woman sitting on a bench in an unknown shopping mall, eating a sandwich and clutching a blue handbag as she watched kids on a coin operated kiddie ride with a giraffe, lion, and elephant. I listened in silence as she spoke, swinging between awe and jealousy. I shot Jude a glance, wondering yet again what had possessed him to bring me to Gaunt House ruins.
“The Mayfair.”
Oh, good Lord, it had happened again. I’d spoken as they described their visions; interrupting against my will.
“What?” Liz sounded slightly cross.
“The Mayfair shopping mall has
a coin ride like the one you just described,” I said, dropping my gaze. “Opposite the bakery and right next to a bench seat.”
There was silence for a while, and then Jude let his breath out slowly. “Incredible,” he muttered.
“I was at the Mayfair today,” Nadine said, her eyes bright. “That’s where I saw my crazy guy.”
Liz grabbed the notebook off Cain and started scribbling. “Where, Frankie?” she asked without lifting her eyes off the page. “Where’s the giraffe ride?”
I thought. “The fresh market end. The ride is beyond the bench, closer to the exit.”
Liz hesitated and I reached out for the pen. She passed me her book so I could draw a quick diagram of the shopping center, marking the bench where the woman might have been sitting with an X. I handed the book back, still unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Doesn’t the bakery at Mayfair do free sandwiches for seniors at lunchtime some days?” Nadine asked.
“That’s right!” Liz said. She scribbled again.
“Could have been a blue, green, or gray handbag the old lady had, if what she said about the primary colors was right,” Owen added, nodding at me.
That prompted me to speak again, even though inside I screamed at myself to shut the hell up. “The colors might indicate an item of significance.” I felt like the biggest upstart on the planet.
“For example?” Nadine said sharply.
“For example, maybe her handbag is about to get snatched,” I said. “Maybe the blue car gets wrecked.”
They all considered this idea, glancing at Cain to see what he thought.
“I’d agree with that,” he said, “except that the things that happen to these people are never as tame as getting a bag snatched. The visions we see are precursors to violent deaths and life changing events.” I nodded, glad to be wrong.
Owen was thinking hard. “Cain, remember the red dog?”
Liz gasped in comprehension and Jude explained for the benefit of me and Nadine. “Liz and Owen saw visions of a little girl playing on her driveway with a pull-along toy. A red dog. Cain saw her getting crushed by her father’s car as he backed out of the driveway. You see, her dad knew she was out in the front yard but he had those reverse sensors on his car. The kid was playing with this red dog and she bent right down―lay on the ground, in fact―to look under the dog, at its wheels. So the reverse sensors didn’t pick her up because she was too low. Don’t worry,” he added, seeing my horrified face. “Cain identified the house and stopped it from happening.”
“The red dog,” Owen repeated musingly. “All three of us saw it. And it was the red dog that caused the little girl to lie down on the driveway so in a way it was ... instrumental. You could even say it was pivotal to the incident.”
Nadine was offhanded. “There’s no way to know if she’s right. It’s an interesting theory but until the next couple of events take place we won’t know if it holds water.”
Owen seemed to be thinking things over, his eyes distant. “The car. The guy with the kids in his blue car ... maybe it is something to do with the car. The car could be the significant object.” He sat up straight, blinking. “Yes. Maybe he’s going to run his ex-wife over, or wrap it round a tree. Ah, that’s it! He’s going to hurt the kids.”
A moan escaped me. How could they discuss these things in such a collected manner? I shuddered and pulled my knees up against my chest. The others ignored me, too focused on the problem before them to pay any attention to someone without the stomach for human suffering. The conversation went long into the night. Owen wanted to help Cain with the research on the blue car event so they arranged to meet the next day to check out the McNally Street address. It was a relief when everyone finally said goodnight. I pretended I was leaving, but as soon as the last car had pulled out I turned off my engine and ran over to Cain.
“How many have you saved?” I asked.
Cain laughed. “Obviously you have questions you need answered. Let’s go back inside.”
“How many?” I repeated when we were settled on the sofa.
He thought for a minute. “A few. Nowhere near as many as I’d like. Maybe ... ten?”
“How often?”
“My visions were coming around once a month. Less often now.”
“Can you tell me about them? What happened?”
“I’ll tell you a couple of the stories,” he said.
I waited while he lit a cigarette and couldn’t help asking, “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Smoke?”
Cain frowned. “It bothers you?”
“I don’t even smell it when you do it,” I said.
He was relieved. “Yeah, that’s what the others say, too.”
“But why do you do it?”
He shrugged. “It’s my pet vice.”
“You’re addicted?” I was doubtful, but then I remembered those old needle tracks. Was smoking his last remaining habit? “Just because we can’t smell it, doesn’t mean it’s not hurting you, or us,” I said. Cain seemed ever so slightly amused and I scowled. “Your visions won’t be any use to anyone if you die of lung cancer.”
That made him laugh but he stubbed out his cigarette to satisfy me. He turned to face me, which meant I had to try not to fall into the black tunnel. Being with Cain was always an internal battle, reverence at war with desire. It must be easy to be Cain. The only time he ever deviated from his monumental calm was when he occasionally took me into his arms and just about crushed the breath out of me. Odd ... when Cain gave in, the battle inside me ceased for the moment as well.
“The last one we saved was six months ago. Jude saw her first. She was walking with her schoolbag over her shoulder. Then Owen saw her fishing around in her schoolbag near the bus stop. We didn’t know it was the same girl for a while until they were both seeing her on a bridge, looking out over the water. There was a sign nearby with a red circle on it but it was broken, flattened to the ground. Jude and Owen both saw that. Liz saw the girl too, sitting at her dinner table, staring down at her plate. Then I discovered the full story of what was going to happen to her and―”
“How?” I interrupted.
Cain was pensive for a moment. “You know I see visions, just like the others do. But mine are longer and don’t come as often. I only seem to have a vision after we’ve started to piece the whole thing together. So, when the others have described enough scenes and pictures to give us a sketchy idea of what’s going to happen, that’s when I’ll usually have a detailed vision of the event we’re trying to stop.”
It made sense. “It’s like their pictures are building up a framework,” I said. “Like one of those puzzles where you just get fragments of one larger image and at some point, when you have enough little pieces, you can see what the whole thing is. So, when there’s enough fragments there you see the full vision for what it is. I guess it’s because you’re more powerful and stronger than any of them―”
“Stop it,” he ordered. “I’m not better than anyone.” He stared at the floor.
What was this ludicrous modesty? Then a thought pricked at me ... saints―humility. “So what did you see?”
He still didn’t meet my eyes but resumed. “It seemed to go for hours. I saw the young girl lying on her bed, her face white and unhappy. It was almost like I could see her thoughts. Bad memories of her creepy uncle hurting her. You know what I mean.” Cain looked at my face for a few moments, real distress in his eyes, and I understood that he meant sexual abuse. “She was miserable. Living inside her memories, her parents utterly oblivious and talking about some stupid school dance, trying to set her up with the kid next door. She had an empty hole inside her heart because of what her dad’s brother had done and they wanted to send her on a date!” Cain seemed outraged, his jaw clenched. “They told her they’d ask the kid next door’s parents to find out if he’d go to the dance with her and she didn’t know how to stop them. It was like she couldn’t speak. She walked to
her bus stop and took a detour to a bridge over the river. She knew she wouldn’t die if she leapt but she wanted to stop them, to at least make them forget about setting her up for the stupid dance. It was a decoy. But she didn’t realize how shallow it was where she was planning to jump. She didn’t know she’d get kind of upside down during her fall and hit the riverbed under the water and snap her neck so she’d never be able to move or walk again.”
Cain was breathing heavily, apparently reliving the vision, but when I put my hand on his arm he snapped back to the present. Captured instantly, deeply in his dark eyes, I was hit with the full glory of his face haloed in soft candlelight. A moment later he’d wrapped me up close against him, not even kissing, just grasping me in a rough, powerful hold while my skin grew hot under his touch.
Then he released me, looking anxiously at my face. “I’m sorry. I always forget―” He stopped.
Plainly, Cain was struggling. Was he unreconciled to what he was; to his holy gift? Alarmed by his own strength? He continued the story, unaware he’d revealed anything about himself.
“I was waiting on the bridge when she turned up. The metal sign Jude and Owen saw said ‘No diving – shallow water’ but it had been knocked down by a car and was lying face-down on the ground. I went over to the girl as soon as she arrived and explained about the shallow water, how it was hiding under the surface, ready to break her body for good. She was so grateful.” He rubbed his forehead. “I told her how important she was and that she needed to tell her parents what had happened to her. That she would feel worse for a while, but then much, much better.”
“What did she say?” If I could put myself in this story I would be the girl, the flesh and blood girl with no divine knowledge or greater wisdom. My sympathies were with her and I wanted to know how she responded to Cain when he came to save her like that.
“She looked up at me and asked if I was her guardian angel.”
Cain’s face was pained but I couldn’t help bursting into nervous giggles. After a moment’s surprise, he relaxed and grinned.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Sorry!” I laughed so hard I snorted. When I’d laughed myself out I went into the room where the cooler was. I needed a beer. The ice was a half-melted slush and the beer was fantastic. An icy slap of reality.
I returned to the main chamber. “Okay. Tell me another one.”
“This one started with Liz. She has a lot of memory-type visions, historical rather than future things. I don’t know if it’s because she works in a hospital and that’s a place that has seen a lot of death over time. Maybe that influences what she sees.” Cain rubbed his head again as if it hurt him. Maybe headaches were an occupational hazard for saints ... all those messages from Heaven. The stupid thought nearly made me break out in demented giggles again.
“Her vision was an old man shuffling down the street. We all thought this was one of her historical pictures but then Jude saw another vision of the man on a train, holding a bottle in a paper bag. That was all it took―just those two pictures―to trigger the full story for me. Just like with the girl on the bridge―Bronte―the vision seemed to go on for a long time. I saw him worrying about his wife, who was sick in hospital again. He wasn’t a drinker but he’d suddenly realized that she was leaving him this time, for good. There was just no coming back from how sick his wife was.
“On impulse, he bought a bottle of sherry, just to ease the pain. He took it home with him on the train but when he got inside his house he fumbled the bottle, dropped it, and it smashed. While he was trying to pick up the glass he slipped and cut himself, a deep cut on his wrist. He wrapped it with a tea towel and sat down to catch his breath but passed out from the shock, and then bled to death on his couch.” Cain shook his head like he was trying to clear the image from his mind. “I saw all of it, right down to the details of the train time, and the date on the cashier’s receipt for the bottle, and even the station where he got on. I was able to follow the old man and catch the same train. I talked to him. He told me about his wife and I told him about my mother, who died of cancer, too. It sounds unbelievable but I think he just needed someone to talk to. He didn’t even want to drink. He never drank more than one beer at the sports club every week on a Saturday afternoon. His own father had been an alcoholic so he hated the stuff. He gave his bottle of sherry to me and said he’d face Gwennie’s passing like a man. He got off at the stop near his friend’s house instead of his own.”
“What did he think you were?” I asked.
Cain shot me a grin. “I don’t know but I don’t think it was as celestial as Bronte’s theory!” He went quiet for a few seconds, his eyes distant. Maybe he was savoring the good memory. It was almost painful to look at him. I couldn’t get hold of my emotions while I looked at that face.
I pulled myself together. “How many haven’t you been able to save?” I asked.
“Too many.” He clearly didn’t want to talk about that and I could understand why.
“Can you protect those little boys?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t got everything I need yet. You’re helping, though,” he added. “You’re smart. You’re good at putting things together.”
“I wish I could shut up when you all talk about your visions. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“It’s not an interruption. It’s good to get an outside perspective.” I felt a pang and, too late, he realized what he’d said. “Not that you’re an outsider,” he amended.
“No, of course not,” I said, tears welling in my eyes.
Cain watched me in concerned silence. I held my breath to prevent a display of emotion and only spoke again when I was calmer.
“Tell me why you think Jude brought me here,” I said. “Please.”
“I’m not sure―” he began.
“I don’t expect you to know for sure,” I lied. “But you must have some idea.”
I could rely on the fact that Cain didn’t seem able to speak an untruth. “I believe he wanted you to think more of him,” he said in a low voice.
I turned this over in my mind. “Jude wanted me to know about his ability? He thought I didn’t think much of him?” Maybe that was fair. Jude was just Jude. A little goofy and unexciting. I remembered Albion’s comment from the night of my ambush. He always had a thing for her, he’d told Tara. I groaned. “Do you mean he brought me just because of a crush? Because he wanted to impress me?” I was disgusted. “That’s so immature. That complete idiot.”
Then the gravity of this information rumbled through me like an earth tremor. Cain did know. He knew for certain I was a mistake. Damn Jude and his stupid, conceited fantasy that I would somehow fall for him when I knew he had this Godly gift. But―oh, dear Lord―was it possible I was not just a mistake but that I was also bad for them? Hadn’t Cain just told me he hadn’t had any visions for a while? And what had he called me back when he first told me the truth? His most beautiful distraction.
My breath snagged. “How long has it been since you saw any visions?”
He shrugged, a little too casual. “A couple of months, but―”
“I’ve been here for a couple of months!” I choked. “I’m the thing that’s caused you not to have visions! I’m a distraction!”
“No, Francesca.” Cain tried to pull me close but I fought him off. “Yes, I’m distracted by you but that doesn’t mean―”
“I’m a mistake,” I cried. “I’m wrong for you! I’m your ... your ...” His temptation. I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.
All my usual methods of holding it together failed and I dropped my head down over my knees, breathing in panicky gasps. Cain scrambled to kneel in front of me, taking my face in his hands. The tunnel beckoned.
“Francesca, it’s my choice. My choice, not your fault. I could have gotten rid of you if necessary but there’s no way I was going to do that.”
“You should have!”
“No,” he said.
“But the
people you could have protected!”
He was bewildered. “I don’t understand. You don’t want this? Us? What do you want me to do?”
I didn’t know the answer but I knew I couldn’t deal with this anymore. I pushed him away and took off. He didn’t pursue me.