But what about Antaris?
Bigotry complicates his son’s roots. As he grows older, those tangles will turn into knots. Out of sight, out of mind. That was one of Hiram’s reasons for returning to Proventia. Simran loves optics too much to admit her grandson has a Seer mother, and Barrett barely talks to anyone. This allows Hiram to keep Antaris out of the public eye. It’s a good plan, but not foolproof.
One day, Antaris will ask about his father’s initial absence. One day, he’ll see how the world is for people like his mother. Hiram will have answers; he is good at weaving the best ones, but now there’s a growing weight of worry as he wonders if his reasons are good enough.
Unforecasted rain tempers his thoughts, but it does not extinguish them.
Antaris likes herbal tea with breakfast.
The sample boxes have run out, leaving Hiram standing in the grocery store, overwhelmed by choices. He leans toward the pricier loose teas, but grabs two boxes of fruit blends Antaris seemed most eager about.
On his way back to the car, he spots a coffee shop and detours. The talisman flashes as he enters, but he hardly notices it as the strong scent of coffee pulls at his senses. It’s crowded with limited seating and music humming beneath the chatter. Hiram orders a medium coffee and an apple Danish, then immediately regrets not getting both to go when he notices a familiar face at the first table.
Clinton Desai is alone, sipping what looks like tea, cane propped on the wall beside him. “Hello, Hiram Ellis. You are more than welcome to share my table.”
The last thing he wants to do. “No, thank you. I’ll find my own seat.”
Unfortunately, by the time he collects his order, every table is either taken or occupied by people unwilling to share. Hiram sighs. When he takes a seat opposite Clinton, the blind man smiles. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“I’m not meeting you.” Hiram scowls. “In fact, after the spectacle that was the town hall meeting, I’d hoped to never see you again.”
“It seems fate has other plans.”
“No, I randomly decided to come here for coffee.”
“Did you?” The old man doesn’t let the question linger. “Perhaps my invitation to the town hall was not the best course of action. For that, I apologize.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Everything I said at the meeting was true. I believe we could form an alliance. There are things beyond my reach I think you can help bring to light.”
“I’m not the man you think I am.”
“No, you’re not, but you have the potential to be.”
“So, what? You think I’ll hunt down a serial killer?” Hiram almost laughs. “Not only is that ludicrous, it’s insane. Why can’t you use your Sight to find the Botanist?”
“Our magic may not be limited, but our Sight is. Our visions are impacted by free will. I have seen many iterations of you over the years, future flashes that change as you do. I do not know which version will unfold.”
“I’ve already answered the investigators’ questions.”
“This isn’t only about the Botanist. This is about your impact on the world. I invited you to the meeting so you would see the world beyond the fence you’ve been sitting on. People are more than objects in your line of sight. You want to be judged by your character, not your last name? Then look beyond what you know.”
“I’m not here to form alliances. Living here isn’t a permanent plan.”
Clinton looks amused. He finishes his tea, then slides a card across the table. His name and phone number, printed and in braille. “For scheduling our next meeting. Please choose a quieter location. I concentrate better without external distractions.”
“What are you—”
“Until next time, Hiram Ellis.” Clinton reaches for his cane and slowly stands. “You will run forever. No place will be safe until you turn to face what’s chasing you.”
It’s too quiet.
Hiram stops cutting the crust off the sandwich he’s making and goes to find his son. Antaris has opened the final box. Books cover the floor and bed, but he’s fixated on something in his hand. It’s a picture of Antaris and Grace in front of a birthday cake, a number-six candle lit. His birthday was New Year’s Eve, just a month before Grace died. In the photo, she doesn’t look like time has touched her: smooth, light-brownskin, curly hair, hazel-green eyes, and a bright smile. Antaris is a perfect combination of their mixed heritage.
For a year after Grace broke things off and disappeared without a trace, questions clouded Hiram’s world. Eventually, self-reflection gave him clarity. He doesn’t consider letting her go to be a mistake. He would never chase someone running from him. He accepts the blame now, realizing he overestimated how far he’d distanced himself from his family and trusted too easily that it would be enough. Antaris places the picture on his nightstand.
Hiram sits on the bed beside him, jiggling one knee. “Do you ...”
