"She'll come back eventually, and we will, too. Perhaps by that time, Mr. Gray will also be home."
"Do you think he bolted after you called?"
"If he was that worried, he wouldn't have left his girlfriend behind. He may have gone to speak to someone after hanging up on me." He pulled his shades down. "We'll return later."
Chapter Fifty-one
I'd just stepped out of the building when I saw eight crows on a power line. Not the same ones, I was sure, but there were clearly eight. I kept glancing up, as if my gaze was magnetized.
"What's wrong?" Gabriel asked.
"Nothing."
He peered up at the crows. "Do the birds mean something?"
"Death," I blurted before I could stop myself. I sighed. "Yes, I'm superstitious."
"Crows are a death omen, too?"
The hair on my neck rose. There was something about the way he said it. Death omen.
"Only when there're eight of them."
"Then everything's fine, because there are only six."
I looked up. I counted eight out to Gabriel, pointing at each.
"There are only six birds up there, Olivia."
A chill stabbed my gut. I muttered something about one of us needing our eyes checked, then hurried on. Gabriel caught up with me in a few long strides.
"You saw eight, Olivia. Earlier, too, didn't you? I noticed crows in a tree outside the parking lot. You were staring at them."
"I'm tired. Stressed out. We've lost a viable lead--"
He gripped my elbow, turning me to face him. "My aunt is a psychic. Most of what she does is a con, but there's something there, too. Something real. The second sight. Runs in my family, apparently. It passed me, for which I believe I should be grateful. But I know she has it. I've seen her use it. And I've seen how intrigued she is by you."
"We share an interest in spiritualism."
"It's more than that. Last week, you saw poppies, and your mother escaped a potentially fatal stabbing."
"Escaped. If poppies are a death omen, she shouldn't have escaped."
"But an omen is a warning, is it not? That's how Rose's powers work. She sees possibilities, nothing preordained."
"I don't--" I shook off his hand. "I don't know. I just ... I don't want to talk about it."
"Then humor me. Pretend it really is a death omen. Now what?"
"Now what?"
"If you did see omens, there would be a reason." He gazed around the street. "What else do you see?"
"Nothing," I mumbled. "That's it. Just the--" I stopped as something caught my eye down the road. A flash, like light reflecting off a window.
"All right," he said. "We'll go that way."
"I never said--"