A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(54)

I take my gloves from my coat pocket and slip them on. Then I check my phone and there’s nothing. No missed calls, no messages. I send Sarah a text and ask if she’s okay. And I suddenly worry that I haven’t heard from Harlin. What if he’s forgotten me?

The bus jerks, startling me, and then slows at a stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something. I turn quickly and my heart stops. Onika is sitting on the bench with her black boots crossed one over the other and her mouth pulled into a beautiful smile. Our eyes lock and she offers a pageant wave. The bus starts moving again, and I put my hand against the glass. I have to talk to her.

“Stop the bus!” I yell, jumping up. The driver looks over her shoulder at me and I hear a few murmurs from disgruntled riders. The bus slows just past the stop. I run down the aisle toward the open doors, my adrenaline pumping. I push the phone into my pocket as I hurry down the stairs.

“Next time I ain’t stopping,” the driver calls after me.

I pause on the curb as the bus pulls away and stare at Onika sitting calmly on the metal bench. The street is dead and isolated, and I’m immediately struck with nausea and clutch my stomach. Onika shrugs and the pain fades, leaving me warm all over.

“You don’t look happy to see me,” she says.

“Monroe told me all about you. What you really are. So why are you still following me?” I walk toward her and she holds up her palms innocently.

“You haven’t made your choice yet. Not until that weak body of yours finally gives in. Until then, it’s still business as usual for me.”

“I’m not falling for it.”

“No? Why? Because Monroe Swift is such an honorable man? He’d never lie to you.” She grins. “Have you noticed the pills he keeps in his coat pocket?”

“What? No.”

“Think. The Vicodin. Percocet. Occasionally a muscle relaxer. Why do you think he’s taking so many pills, Charlotte? Seems unprofessional.”

And I do remember seeing Monroe pop a pill or two over the years, but I’d never really thought it odd. We were in a clinic and I just . . . didn’t think about it.

“He’s hurting,” Onika mocks with a fake pout. “Being a Seer isn’t a walk in the park, dear. Watching the people you care about leave, over and over. He has to self-medicate somehow. My . . . imagine when you’re gone—his last Forgotten. I bet it’ll be such a relief for him.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Monroe wants you to go into the light and set him free. He’s not getting any younger. And his headaches sure aren’t getting any easier. And once you’re out of here, he can have his life back. That’s pretty strong motivation, don’t you think?”

I step back from her, knowing the times I’ve heard him complain of migraines. Seeing how he’d wince when I asked about the Forgotten. He looked tormented. I narrow my eyes and glare at Onika. “That doesn’t mean he’d—”

“Get rid of you? No. Of course, you’re right. He’d never be that selfish.” Onika glances around the quiet street and then stands up. “I should really get going. I suspect we’ll be in touch, love.” As she flips her hair over her shoulder, the pain returns to my gut, making me groan.

I stumble over to the bench and sit, waiting for the pain to pass. And when Onika’s gone, it does. I push my hair away from my face, but when I look to my side, I see something next to me on the bench. Is that . . . is that Monroe’s journal? Onika must have left it for me, but I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure I should touch it. I look around for her again, but I’m alone.

I can’t resist anymore. Picking up the leather-bound book, I feel my heart pounding in my chest. It looks the same and I’m confused as I flip through it, but then I stop. The missing pages!

At the end of the book there are crinkled pages tucked in where there used to be nothing but jagged strips of ripped-out paper.

9/9

I met a little girl today, and I knew it was her. First I saw the light shining through her fractured bone on the X-ray, and then there was the incredible pull to protect her. She’s the first Forgotten since Onika. I’d thought that maybe my curse was broken, but now I know that it’s back. And she’s a seven-year-old named Charlotte Cassidy.

I gasp. This is what Monroe had torn out! Pages about me—about me being a curse?

9/24

Mercy Hernandez is taking care of Charlotte and I’m glad for this. It gives me constant access to her, to watch for signs of her crossover. I now wonder if Onika turning to the Shadows kept me from my freedom. I can’t let the same thing happen to Charlotte. The whispers in my head have told me that Charlotte’s my last, and that she needs to cross over. I have to make sure she goes into the light. I can’t survive another Forgotten. I can’t.

10/12

I’ve felt a presence lately, like I’m being followed. I fear it’s Onika, looking for my Forgotten. I don’t think she’ll try to find it in a child, at least not yet. Charlotte came in today with a cut on her hand, a deep scrape that required a stitch. She says she fell—again. This is the second time she’s come to me with an injury, and I suspect the compulsions have started. I hope they speed up soon. I’m not sure how much longer I can hide her. Or how much longer I can keep going.