Lord King (The King)

“Maybe the Seers would’ve filled that void,” I concluded, thinking hard about how power corrupted. “What about having a different life with Mom in it?”

“I loved your mother more than anything in the world besides you. But if she were alive today, she’d probably tell you that the grass is never greener. It’s our struggles that make us strong, so why would society as a whole be any different?

“Where would we be today if, for example, people hadn’t fought the Civil War because it was just too ugly? Or World War II? Humankind has faced some very horrible situations, only to come out of it just a little better. Take those away, and I’m not sure the world would be a better place. Take away Ten Club, and maybe it’s the same. We don’t know the roles they’ve played.”

“I never thought of it like that.” He’d given me a lot to think about. Mostly, the “where would we be if it weren’t for our hardships” part. What killed me was how King’d said the exact same thing: “…every hero, every great man or woman—from the fictional god to the legendary historical figures who triumphed against all odds—had their moment of transformation. They faced the worst this world has to offer and rose like a phoenix.”

“Darn.” Dad looked at his watch. “I have a date in thirty minutes. Let me call her and cancel.”

“A date? With who?” I asked, totally shocked.

“She owns the flower shop next to Target.”

I’d been in there a few times buying flowers for Mom’s grave—every birthday, every holiday. A pretty redhead woman ran it. Her name was Simone or Simmel or something.

Dad added, “It’s actually our third date, and we’re really hitting it off. She’s taking me to see an exhibit with unicorn-shaped topiaries.”

Strange. But okay. At least my dad was finally moving on. A good thing. Even if it made me more confused about what to do. “Don’t cancel on her, Dad. I’m fine. Was going to take a nap anyway.”

“You sure? Because I don’t mind.”

“Yes. Go. Have some fun.” If anyone deserved it, he did.

Dad slid King’s ring off his finger and placed it on the counter. “Tell King thank you for giving me back my life and healing me.”

I nodded and folded my arms across my chest. “I’ll let him know.” If I ever see him again. That fucker was in the UK, cozying up to some woman.

“Why don’t we talk more when I get back?” Dad said. “And you should get some rest. You look tired.”

“Thanks.” I was exhausted. I’d been using all my Seer juice to figure things out.

Dad left to get ready, and I started searching the cupboards for a healthy snack. Meanwhile, my mind hopped back to King. Of course it did. He was never far from my thoughts, which really bugged the shit out of me. He obviously didn’t care about me, but why lie and say he only had eyes for Mia? Why fuck some random woman?

It makes no sense! He’s King. Just tell the truth.

Wait. A shock wave spiked through me. I believed in King’s love for his family. And being a Seer, it would be hard for him to fake that with me, wouldn’t it? I could see straight into his damned heart.

So if he hadn’t been lying about his feelings for his late wife, then… I pressed my hand over the K tattoo on my wrist. Maybe there was a reason I hadn’t felt a connection with him when I touched it earlier. Something’s wrong.

I hurried to my bedroom, shut the door, and lay on my bed. The space was still crowded with boxes piled up against one wall. I never had the chance to unpack after moving back from college because I’d jumped straight into taking care of Dad and working full time.

Okay, Jeni, I told myself, do it just like before. Breathe and let go. Breathe and let go. Breathe and—

My mind began to soar like a bird, flying through a dark sky. Below were large black spaces broken up by clusters of lights. Small towns or villages maybe?

Where is King? Show me King.

I felt myself falling toward the earth, passing through bricks or some sort of stone, landing in the same room as before with the red velvet curtains. Only this time, the curtains were pulled all the way back. So were the covers.

Oh God. What is this? I wanted to vomit. It was so horrible and gory that my mind couldn’t process it. Not in a million years.

I jackknifed in bed, grabbed my purse, and dug out Ansin’s card. I slid my cell from my pocket and dialed the number.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you until tomorrow,” he said, his voice deep, cocky, and thrilled, “but I’m glad you called, my little treasure. Come to a conclusion, have we?”