He plucked a donut out of the box and placed it on the doily wrapper from Jean’s gift.
“How can I be of help?” He took a bite of the powdered donut and then sat back in his chair, the cup of coffee in his hand.
Gift given, favor earned. Now all we had to do is ask for it.
“We need to find Ben. Quickly.” I glanced over at Jame. I thought he might be sleeping. “We know who kidnapped him, and we know what he wants. We can walk that path, bring him here and offer him what he desires, but there is no guarantee Ben will be safe if we do that. We want to know where Ben is and if we can find him in the next twenty-four hours.”
He sipped coffee, holding my gaze a moment. Then he glanced over at Jame.
“I didn’t know.” He leaned forward again, placing his coffee on the desk.
“Didn’t know that Ben had been kidnapped?”
He nodded. “I’ve had some intense visions lately. Mostly about you, Delaney. Things I didn’t want to see.”
“Oh. This.” I pulled the collar of my coat away so he could see the vampire bite.
He made a smallhmphsound in agreement.
“This is not the future your father had hoped for.”
I held my breath along with any reply. I didn’t want to ask questions that would shift Yancy from the answer we needed: how to find Ben alive.
“I told him, but still, every decision creates a path. He created his path, and yours, I’m afraid. You will have to walk it to the end.”
He paused, but I kept my lips firmly pressed together. I wouldn’t ask. I knew I got one question here. I wasn’t going to change it.
“Ben.” He picked up one of the worry stones–a rich blue sodalite–and rubbed his thumb slowly over the smooth indent. “He is alive.”
Jame shifted on the couch, and I knew he was listening.
“He is alone, but watched. In pain. He is angry.”
Yancy went silent, so that only the shush of his thumb across the stone and the muted footsteps of someone walking down the hall filled the room.
I wanted to ask where he was. Where we could find him. But I’d already asked my question. If Yancy could see where Ben was being held, he would tell me.
“Near to us but oceans away.” Yancy’s voice had gone soft, sonorous. His eyes were deep, spiraling with sparks of gold. The futures he saw swirled there like stars caught in time’s dance, a million million possibilities, a million million futures all hinging on billions and billions of tiny choices.
“Darkness, cold. Time does not move, it rocks, it bleeds.”
His thumb stilled and his eyes lost their stars and the lights, as futures winked out one by one.
Jame pushed up until he was sitting, but wisely did not say anything. Jean and I waited too. He’d come back to the present soon. It was best to give him a moment.
After two steady minutes, Yancy seemed to realize he had company in his office again. He offered us a small smile then took a bite of donut, chewed, and sipped coffee.
“What can you tell us?” I asked, hoping I had not chosen the wrong moment to nudge him.
“What I have already said. Ben is alive. Bound, in darkness and cold. There is a…timelessness about his capture. He cannot sense the movement of the world around him, yet everything is in motion.
“There are other impressions. If I tell you them, and I will, you must remember that these are not set truths. They are simply what I saw, possibilities, not probabilities. They are as likely to be metaphor as reality. Do you understand?”
Jean and I nodded, but Yancy’s gaze fell on Jame.
“Do you understand me, Jame? You must survive this for him.”
“I understand.” Jame’s voice was a little stronger than it had been. He was healing at a pace no human would be able to manage, his werewolf physiology repairing bone, organ, and skin.
