With a yawn, Killian rests his head on Mad’s shoulder. “He knows how to use his mobile pay. Text messaging. We explained hotels, taxis, brushing and flossing, and the odd obsession the United States has with tipping. Anything else, he’s on his own.”
THREE
Willow
Every day for the past two weeks, I’ve seen her. Mywhisper. She appears at the most unexpected and inconvenient times, blending into the shadows of my life, but always just out of reach.
I’m not sure why I call her that. Except, the weird voice at the church called me the Whisper Keeper. Why, if this new thing—being—is anything other than a whisper?
Behind me in the bathroom mirror some mornings, she mimics my movements, but with a detached sadness that sends chills down my spine.
On the bus, she sits across from me. The other commuters don’t notice her. Or…if they do, they don’t react.
The worst part is when I see through her eyes. It’s disorienting—like being ripped from my own body and thrust into hers. One moment I’m in my office at UCSF, grading papers or answering emails, and the next, I’m on a roof. Or in a park. People pass by without reacting, their faces blurred and distant. Leaves rustle. The sounds of the city are muted when I’m in her head, but not that far away.
She can move on her own. Wherever she wants to go—I think. If I’m seeing through her eyes, I’m helpless to resist—a supernatural passenger in my own doppelgänger.
Last night, she woke me twice. Once, she was standing in the middle of the street outside my apartment, and a car drove rightthroughher.
A few hours later, the foghorns blasted, and I jerked awake. My whisper was two blocks away—that seems to be as far from me as she can go—and the fog was so thick, it was all I could see through her eyes.
I try to ignore her. To tell myself it’s stress or lack of sleep, but it’s getting harder to believe my own bullshit.
God, I wish I had someone to talk to about this. I even tried calling Father Shin, but he transferred out of the parish. Sister Cecilia too.
I’d go back on my own, but I’ve been too scared. So I’ve spent my workdays locked in my office, praying my whisper will leave me alone, and searching for anything I can find about theWhisper Keepers.
So far, I haven’t learned anything helpful.
Am I losing my mind? I don’t tell anyone what’s happening. How can I? No one would believe me. But fear is chipping away at my sanity every single day.
The rain cascades down my office window in sheets. My whisper stands on the other side of the desk, staring out at the sidewalk. Her reflection in the glass is almost solid—more real than any other time I’ve seen her.
I take a tentative step closer. My heart races. Shit. If I’m not careful. I’ll have an episode and pass out.
“Who are you?” I ask.
She turns, her expression mirroring the confusion and fear that have been my constant companions for weeks now. For amoment, our emotions are so tightly linked, we might as well be one being.
And then I’m pulled into her world again. Cold drops of rain pelt my skin. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Lowering my gaze, my own hands—as solid as they were in my office—reach for something unknown.
“Please.” I don’t have a voice when I’m seeing through her eyes. But maybe she can still hear me?“Please tell me what’s happening?”
But she doesn’t answer. Only walks away, leaving me stranded in this strange, whispered version of my life. Until I blink.
The warmth of my office surrounds me. I’m soaked to the bone. Rainwater pools on the floor, though the window hasn’t opened in years.
I sink down to my knees, tears mixing with the rain on my cheeks. How much more of this can I take? Reality and illusion blur together, and I’m terrified that one day, the two will mix so thoroughly, I’ll never find my way back.
Gabriel
The small duffel bag swings from my hand as I wander the streets of San Francisco. Despite my desire to be off the previous night, I found myself unwilling to leave the city yet. Instead, I took the credit card Maddox had given me—the one linked to Sinclair’s bank account—and rented a hotel room a few blocks away.
It was only natural to begin my education about this realm in the one place I have some familiarity with. That was what I told myself as I tossed and turned in the king-sized bed.
A warm, comforting scent calls to me. My stomach rumbles. I have not eaten since last night. I should have asked Maddox how often humans partake of a meal.
The delicious smells get stronger until I find myself in front of a shop with a glowing sign in the window.
