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Asher

My alarm went off at the same time it did every morning, weekday or weekend. Six a.m. Not a minute earlier. Not a minute later. I never allowed myself to press snooze. Snoozing was for people who didn’t have a busy day ahead of them. After dressing in sweatpants, I did thirty minutes of Tai Chi, taking my body through the same practiced movements and enjoying how much it centered me.

Breakfast was a smoothie of kale, frozen orange and banana, almond butter, and chia seeds. By seven a.m. I’d showered, exfoliated, shaved, and dressed in a suit. I checked it for creases in the mirror, relieved to find there were none, and then left the house before the clock ticked past the hour.

It was a short drive to the PPB building, the envious looks my Porsche received edging into double figures long before I reached my destination. I didn’t park at the building, using a multi-story car park a few blocks away instead. It was seven thirty precisely when I used my ID to let myself into the building and again to access the lift.

There was a running joke about me living in the building because no one ever saw me coming or going. Well, if any of them ever dragged themselves out of bed earlier or stayed beyond their prescribed hours, they would. Which wasn’t strictly fair when it came to the necromancy department, the time-sensitive nature of their job meaning one of them was always on call.

As the lift approached the top floor, I contemplated the day ahead. Cade wouldn’t be in till eight, which gave me thirty minutes at my desk to respond to emails and make sure everything ran like clockwork for the rest of the day. I might never have dreamed of being a personal assistant—why would I when I didn’t need the money?—but I was damn good at it, and this was my favorite part of the day. No interruptions. No small talk. Just me, my computer, and my appointment book. A plethora of puzzles waiting for me to solve them.

I knew there was something wrong as soon as I stepped out of the lift. How? A sixth sense? A disturbance in the air? A slight scent that shouldn’t have been there? Whatever it was, the space that should have been empty this early, wasn’t. Someone had invaded it. Had Cade come in early? It happened sometimes, but not so frequently I’d run out of fingers on my left hand if I counted the occasions. If he was here, he’d be in his office, though. Not in mine.

I approached my desk with measured steps, fast enough to avoid suspicion, but slow enough to listen for clues about what awaited me. A slight rustle. Breathing. A sniff. Questions flooded my brain. Chief among them was, if I was about to walk into danger, why didn’t I already know about it? I should know. Maybe not the details. It didn’t work like that. But that something was going to happen today. But, there’d been nothing hinting at the day being anything but ordinary.

The reason for that became obvious as I skirted a large leafy plant and my desk came into view. I came to a grinding halt and took in the scene, caught midway between relief and annoyance.

John Averill, one of three necromancers who worked in the building, was in my seat. Not just in my seat, but lounging in it like he belonged there, feet up on the desk. He grinned when he saw me and held his arms out to the side. “Guess who’s back! Did you miss me?”

Ever since our paths had first crossed, John had done everything in his power to wind me up, whether with acerbic comments he would have been better keeping to himself, or with overt flirting. The past few months without him working here had been blissfully devoid of both of those things. So there was no lie in my quietly spoken “no.”

He clapped a hand to his chest. “Ouch! I thought you might have defrosted while I’ve been gone.” John had an obsession with believing I was made of ice, his range of nicknames for me—most of which he probably thought I didn’t know about—all variations on the same theme.

“Feet,” I said, pointing to them.

“They are,” he said deliberately obtusely. He lifted them an inch before putting them back down. The piece of paper beneath his feet, which if I remembered correctly was an employment contract for a new psychic due to start the following week, bore the brunt of the movement, a crease appearing that made me want to wince. I didn’t, because that’s precisely the sort of reaction John was after. Lord knows why it bothered him so much that I could maintain my composure so readily, but it did.

“Please remove them. You’re trampling important paperwork that Cade has yet to sign.” John rolled his eyes, but did so, easing his feet onto the floor, but not relinquishing my chair. For a moment, I entertained the brief fantasy of grabbing the back of it and tipping him onto the floor. Instead, I picked a stray piece of lint from my sleeve. Where it had come from when it hadn’t been there when I’d left home, I had no idea. Maybe it was time to get the lifts cleaned. When was the last time they’d been done? “What do you want, John?”

“A chat.”

I waved a hand at him. “So chat. I am at your disposal as ever.”

Something about that made John smile. “You’ve never been at my disposal, Asher. At best, you tolerate me. You tolerate everyone who works here with their annoying emotions and foibles.”

“You’re not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “I think that’s the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He sat up straighter. “So, since you’re in a truthful mood, I’ve been nominated to ask you some questions.”

“Nominated by whom?”

“We’ve been having meetings.”

“We?”

“Me, Bellamy, Griffin, Ben, and Calisto.” He held up a hand with two fingers crossed. “We’re like that now, the five of us.”

“Cozy,” I said. “Like musketeers, but with less swordplay and more death.”

John contemplated my comment for a beat, apparently found no fault or hidden meaning in my words, and moved on. “We’ve decided things are being kept from us, that there’s too many unanswered questions floating around.”

“You should talk to Cade.” I turned my wrist in a graceful motion to check my watch. So much for my half hour of peace. I’d be playing catch-up all day to make sure things ran smoothly. “He’ll be in soon. I can make you an appointment.”

“Ah, but the thing is…” John sat back in the chair, his blue eyes narrowing on me. “Most of those unanswered questions revolve around you.”

“Really?” Much as I wanted to fidget beneath his stare, I didn’t. John’s selection as the mouthpiece of the little group came as no surprise. No one could dispute him being good at talking. Some might say expert. Others—Cade among their number—would say it got John in constant trouble. I’d thought with Bellamy in his life that it might refocus John somewhat. Apparently not.

“Yes, really,” John drawled with a slight smirk. “First question…”

I steeled myself as he let it hang there, frowning when he slid open my middle desk drawer and rummaged around in the back of it before pulling out the handful of chocolate bars I kept there. “Why do you, the man who’s like a walking encyclopedia of everything disgustingly healthy, have a secret stash of chocolate in your desk? Griffin told me you did, but I thought he was making it up.”

“You know Cade has a son. Kids like chocolate.”

John stared at me for a moment and then laughed. “Right. Course. You have all of these for those extremely rare occasions when Cade brings his son to work. So rare that I didn’t even know he had one until he became the cause of me walking into a viper’s pit. Which is O’Reilly’s little tower block of horrors, in case you didn’t get the reference.”

“I got it.” I pointed to the chocolate. “It always pays to be prepared with children.”

John dropped all but one bar back into the drawer. The remaining one, he peeled open and took a big bite, daring me with his eyes to take exception to him helping himself to something we both knew had absolutely nothing to do with Cade’s son. After a few seconds of chewing, he held it out. “Want a bite?”

“No, thanks.”

He waved a hand at the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk—the chair I never sat in because life was usually kind enough to spare me from a truculent necromancer making themselves at home and refusing to move. “You may as well sit down,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. First proper question.”

“Go on.”

“You turning up to save the day?”

“When?”

He laughed. “Oh, we’re playing that game, are we? Fine. I’ll play along. When Ben was being held captive by a psycho serial killer and Griffin didn’t have the faintest clue where he was, and then you turned up and told him exactly where to go. He’s been trying to talk to you himself ever since, but you’ve proved elusive.”

“I’ve been busy.”

John raised an eyebrow. “It must be quite the challenge to avoid two necromancers out of three. Makes me feel so special that I’m not on that list.” There was no point in denying it, so I simply held his gaze. “Griffin, you’re avoiding because you either won’t or can’t give a reason for your timely intervention. Calisto, though, is the interesting one.” I stiffened at the name before forcing myself to relax. Brief satisfaction flared in John’s eyes. “I would ask what the poor boy’s done to upset you, but I don’t see how he could when you’ve never been in the same room.”

I stared at John without blinking. “There was no question there. Did you mean to include one?”

He laughed. “One point to Colonel Cold.”

“’Colonel Cold.’” I arched an eyebrow. “That’s a new one.”

John shrugged. “Sergeant Snow, Admiral Arctic, Field Marshal Frigid. I’m not sure I’ll ever run out.” He thought for a moment. “Baltic Billy, Freddie Frostbite, Ian Icicle.” He grinned like he expected to be rewarded for his creativity. When I said nothing, he sighed. “Okay. Here’s your question. How did you know where Flynn O’Reilly lived? It would have saved the police a whole heap of trouble if you’d told them earlier. It might even have saved a life or two.”

It doesn’t work like that. I bit back the words because then John’s follow up question would be the same as anyone’s. What doesn’t? “Talk to Cade.”

This time, frustration peppered John’s sigh. “Why? Because he’s better at fobbing me off? God knows why I let myself get talked into coming back to work here. Nothing’s changed. Do what you’re told, John. Don’t get yourself involved in things that don’t concern you. Don’t ask questions, even when your life is at stake. We’ll just let you walk into a dangerous situation completely blind. ”

“That was unfortunate,” I conceded.

“Unfortunate!” John’s lip curled. “’Unfortunate’ near as damnit got me shot in the head.”

When nothing suitably placatory sprang to mind, I stayed silent. John’s anger was justified, and even months after the incident he was referring to, it remained undiminished.

“I still wake up,” he said, with something of a haunted look in his eye, “feeling it there.” He tapped a place on his head where the gun had presumably rested. “Bellamy has to switch the light on like I’m a goddamn kid and tell me everything’s going to be okay, that I’m safe, that O’Reilly hasn’t strolled in and decided that today’s the day for retribution. If only I’d dealt with her that day and to hell with the consequences.”

“O’Reilly will be dealt with,” I said.

“When?”

There was no answer I could give that would mollify John in his current mood. To be honest, him letting me see his vulnerable side was a surprise. I hadn’t been entirely sure he had one. “In due course.”

John rolled his eyes. “You talk in riddles. I should have known better than to think I’d get anything out of you. Big. Fat. Waste of time.”

A noise from behind had me turning as Cade emerged from the shadow of a statue. I hadn’t heard the lift, which begged the question of how long he’d stood and listened to us. If it had been a while, I would be the one pissed he hadn’t intervened sooner. At least now he’d take John into his office and off my hands.

“Asher has precognitive abilities,” Cade said, his blunt honesty knocking the wind out of me. Cade had guarded my secret for years, both of us aware of the ramifications of it getting out. He’d decided that today was the day to blurt it out. And to John, of all people. If John knew, that meant Bellamy would know. And presumably from what he’d said earlier, I could add Griffin and Ben to that list. And Calisto. Shit! We might as well put an ad in the newspaper and let the entire world know while we were at it. “I never agreed—”

Cade held up a hand to bring my words to a grinding halt. “You said the other day that things would come to a head soon. Are we going to wait until the shit really hits the fan? They deserve to know the truth.”

I turned back to find John with his head cocked to one side, studying me like I was a museum exhibit he’d stumbled across and was trying to make sense out of. “Precognition?” he asked.

I sighed and gave myself up to the inevitability of the conversation, taking the seat I’d rejected earlier as Cade perched against the corner of the desk. “I get glimpses of the future.”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when?”

“Since I was a child. My abilities are like yours. Only… different.”

“Very different,” John said. “So… Griffin and Ben?”

“I saw the house. I saw snatches of conversation between Ben and Flynn. I saw what he was going to do to him if nobody stopped him. I put Griffin there, so he could stop him.”

John’s slow nod said he was still trying to wrap his head around what I’d said. “How does it work exactly?”

I hated this question because no one ever liked the answer I gave. And John was less tolerant than most.

“Let me answer that,” Cade said with a glance my way. I gave him a nod to go ahead. “There is no rulebook with precognition. Asher might see the future years ahead or just hours ahead. It’s rare it’s in a logical order and it’s not always a fully formed picture, meaning some of it is open to interpretation. Sometimes it’s useful. Other times less so.”

“Why the big secret?” John asked, his forehead creased.

“Precognition puts a target on my back,” I answered reluctantly, still none too happy Cade had triggered this conversation without my say-so. “It’s rare for someone with the skill set I have to get to live that long. No one likes someone who can see the future. Not the good guys. Not the bad guys.”

“But obviously, it can be useful,” Cade offered.

John thought for a moment. I could almost see the cogs going round. “Hence you offering him a job here?” When Cade nodded, John grinned. He pointed an accusatory finger at me. “I always knew you weren’t a personal assistant.”

“I am a personal assistant. I do everything a personal assistant does. I can give you a list if you’d like.”

“No thanks,” John said. “I said I wake up panicking, not that I have difficulty getting to sleep. I’ll call you, though, if my insomnia ever gets that bad.” He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in the chair. “Did you know what was going to happen to me? I’m assuming not. Because if you’d seen that and let me walk into that building, that wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do.”

I quelled the urge to shift in my chair. “Some things have to happen.”

Anger sparked in his eye. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

I held his gaze and leaned forward. “If you hadn’t gone into that building, Bellamy would have stayed dead. The mask might have played a part in bringing him back permanently, but you were the catalyst. In more ways than one.”

That took the wind out of John’s sails, the look in his eye saying he was contemplating life without Bellamy and not liking what he saw. Meanwhile, Cade stayed silent, happy to let me take the flak, which surprised me more than it should have done.

“So you play God?” John finally said. “We’re your chess pieces and you move us around as you see fit, deciding who goes where and what they do.”

“It’s not like that at all,” I said in my defense. “But you’ve encapsulated what most people believe. That’s why the life of a Precog is usually a short one. The delusion that we have all the power. All I’ve ever tried to do while I’ve been here is keep everyone safe and happy. You have Bellamy. Griffin has Ben.”

It was a mistake to bring up the two paired necromancers, John’s mind immediately going to the necromancer who remained free and single. “What about Calisto? Where does he fit into all this?”

I turned my head and held Cade’s gaze, silently warning him that would be a step too far in his sudden desire to be forthcoming. He gave a slight inclination of his head to show the floor was mine with Calisto. “He works here,” I said, going for a lie that wasn’t really a lie. “O’Reilly has already crossed paths with two out of three necromancers, either directly or indirectly. It’s logical to think that Calisto is in her sights, too. Therefore, he needed to know what was going on. Forewarned is forearmed.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Which doesn’t explain why you avoid him.”

I cycled through various excuses, none of them seeming remotely plausible. “Listen,” Cade said as he checked his watch. “As much fun as it is to hang out and chat, I have a full day of work ahead.” He gave me a pointed look. “As do you. And I’m going to guess seeing as John is sitting in your seat, that you haven’t even started yet?”

“I haven’t,” I admitted.

Cade grabbed my arm and steered me toward his office. “We’ll meet first. I have something I need to discuss with you. That’s why I came in early.” To John, he said, “And you need to go home and get some sleep. How was the night shift?”

John made a noise in his throat open to interpretation as either good or bad. It figured he always had a lot to say until asked a direct question. We made it as far as Cade’s office door before John shouted after us. “Hey, Asher, one more question.”

It was so rare for him to use my name that I stopped and turned before I thought better of it. “Go on.”

“How come you’re rich? Did you foresee the winning lottery numbers?”

If I’d been the type of person who rolled my eyes, I would have rolled them. But as I was Asher Baines and didn’t go in for such outward displays of emotion, I simply looked at him. “Who says I’m rich?”

John tipped his chin up. “You own a Porsche. A very nice Porsche, according to Griffin.”

I’d known that would come back to bite me one day, but unfortunately Ben’s fate if no one intervened had left me with no alternative but to act quickly. “My family come from money,” I admitted. “A lot of money.”

John raised an eyebrow. “I knew I should have tried harder to romance you. You could have bought me expensive presents. Until I met Bellamy, anyway.”

“The ultimate power couple,” Cade muttered with amusement in his voice.

“I think I’ve had nightmares like that,” I said.

John was still laughing when Cade closed the door and shut out the sound. I immediately rounded on him, my boss knowing what was coming and holding his hands up in defense. “I know,” he said. “But there was only so long we could keep fobbing them off.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t your secret to tell. I’ve spent my entire life keeping it a secret, and you just blurt it out. And John would not have been my first choice of person to tell.”

“John will tell the rest. It’s quicker than calling a meeting.”

I went and stood by the window, looking out over the familiar cityscape. “Are you sure that’s all it was, and not that you’re trying to get back into his good books?”

“That, as well,” Cade admitted. “I’m friends with Griffin, and Calisto is much more malleable. But John is… Well, he’s John. Love him or loathe him, you can’t ignore him. Speaking of Calisto, do you want to talk about him?”

“No.” My response was sharp. The very last thing in the world I wanted to talk about was Calisto.