A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(27)
Author: Suzanne Young

“Get out,” Miles says again, more forcefully.

“Gillian,” I call. My Need zooms in. My knowledge of Miles fades away and I see that Gillian doesn’t know what he’s planning to do. She thought she was doing what was right by breaking it off with him. She was trying to protect his family.

“Yes?” she asks, stepping toward me.

“Don’t,” Miles orders, waving her away. But she’s watching me, like she’s sensed something was wrong all along.

“Gillian,” I say, outstretching my hand to her. “He has pills in his pocket that he’s planning to take tonight. He’s going to take all of them!”

Miles shouts that I’m crazy, that he’s calling the police, but Gillian looks at the back of his white coat. When she glances at me, I see the widening of her eyes and I’m sure they’re glazing over with the knowledge. She’s listening to me.

“Miles?” she asks. She knew something was off. She’s felt suspicious because while she was taking stock, she’d noticed the missing pill bottle. The light around her starts to fade and my sight returns.

Miles turns to glare at her, the phone at his ear. “She’s some psycho, Gill,” he says. “Probably a junkie. Let me handle it.”

“Do you have pills in your pocket?” she asks, her voice weak. Just then another pharmacy worker comes over, catching the end of the conversation.

Gillian touches her lips like she’s figured it out. The man she had loved was going to kill himself tonight. Partly because of her. The other pharmacist takes the phone from Miles and begins asking him questions.

Gillian looks up at me and I expect a thank-you. But as I stand in front of her, I watch the recognition drain away.

“Sorry, miss,” she says to me. “We have a situation. You’ll have to come back later.”

Suddenly the tension releases and I’m struck by a wave of euphoria. My eyes roll back in my head for a second and I stumble over to clutch on to a shelf of decongestants. And then just as quickly, I’m exhausted, wiped out. I glance up again to see Miles with his head in his hands. Gillian is wiping her eyes while the other pharmacist is on the phone. I saved him. The Need saved him.

But it hadn’t taken long for Gillian to forget me, and that bothers me. Is it getting worse, or am I just noticing it more? I close my eyes and wait for the room to stop spinning. It feels like I’m missing more skin, but I don’t have the strength to look. When I feel steady enough, I move down the aisle.

There’s a tingling on the back of my neck, like someone is staring at me. Uncomfortable, I turn toward the waiting area. Onika’s there. Any relief I’d felt is gone, replaced with fear. Monroe had called her a beast.

She smiles as she sits next to the woman with the squirming toddler. Onika’s long hair cascades over her shoulder onto the fabric of her black jacket, effortlessly beautiful.

The child next to her lets out a harsh squeal as he tries to break free of his mother. Onika flinches and looks sideways at the toddler, her eyes seeming covered in shadows. I see her dark red lips move, murmuring something I can’t hear. I’m frozen in place, watching her.

The child suddenly turns to her, eyes wide. Onika stops whispering and glances back at me, grinning again.

Still in his mother’s arms, the toddler starts to whimper and clutches on to her before resting his head on her shoulder. The mother pats his back and says something like, “Oh, see. That’s my big boy.” But it’s obvious that the kid is scared. That whatever Onika said—or did—to him has frightened him into silence.

Sickness starts to churn inside me. Onika stands, flicking out her gloved hand in a quick gesture, and the pain is gone.

“God, Charlotte. You look like hell,” she says as she walks toward me.

“Monroe told me not to talk to you.” I take a step back from her. She looks offended.

“Why? Because I’m trying to help you?” She groans. “He is nothing if not predictable.” She reaches out to take my arm and leads me into the aisle, where we’re hidden by shelves of feminine hygiene products. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Monroe Swift is a liar, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

“He said you were lying about being able to help me.” My heart is racing even though I don’t feel scared anymore. It’s like the fear ran out of me.

“Yes, love. Because he wants you to dissolve. The sooner you do, the sooner he’s free.”

“What? How will he be free?”

She reaches out to brush my hair back behind my ear, a mothering gesture. It puts me at ease. “Because as your Seer he’s trapped in servitude. But from what I hear you’re his last Forgotten. And once you’re gone, he can live a normal life. And here’s a secret.” She leans close to my ear. “He used to be my Seer too.”

She moves back, continuing to smile. “And look”—she motions over herself—“I’m still very much here.”

“How?” I’m suddenly desperate. She proves it. There is a way to stop the Need.

She waggles her finger in front of me. “No, no. Not yet. You have more to show me before I can tell you all of my secrets.”

“But—”

“Shh . . .” she whispers, and I’m struck silent, unable to move or talk. My thoughts don’t race, my heart doesn’t pound. I’m content as I stare back at her, her words fading to the back of my mind. “I’ll see you soon.” Onika turns and walks toward the front door of the pharmacy, but when she’s halfway there she looks over her shoulder at me. “Oh, and give my love to Mercy.”

I try to ask what she’s talking about when there’s a sudden vibration in my pocket and I yelp, jumping back, no longer mute. My breath comes out in jagged gasps as if I just woke from a nightmare. When I look up, Onika is gone.

It takes a second until I realize that the vibration is my cell phone. I pull it out and glance at the caller ID. It’s Mercy.

“Hey,” I say when I answer. I feel like I haven’t talked to her in a million years, and right now I really want her to tell me everything is okay.

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me, Charlotte. You better be getting your little butt home and to bed. A car accident? And nobody calls me? Tell Monroe he’s gonna be hearing from me later.”

“It’s not his fault,” I try to say, but then realize that I won’t win the discussion. Mercy’s pretty good at standing her ground. “I’m on my way home right now.”