A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(46)

“I know what she is,” Harlin says. I turn to him suddenly, stunned by his admission. How does he fit into this?

“Do you know who she is?” Marceline asks gently.

Harlin’s eyes narrow as he tries to find meaning in the old woman’s words. The two of them stay like that, but my stomach is twisting in knots.

“What are you talking about?” I demand. “Who . . . what am I? And how does Harlin know any of this?”

Marceline focuses her attention on me. “He’s a Seer, child. He helps the Forgotten—leads them to their destiny.” She gives him a sharp look. “Or at least he’s supposed to.”

“Seer,” I repeat. I think back on the stories of the Forgotten. Harlin knows all about this. He’s part of this.

“More importantly,” Marceline says, crunching down on her mint, “he’s in love with you. Again.”

I’m about to ask Marceline what she’s talking about, but I shoot a look at Harlin. He stares past her then, not seeming to react to her words. His mouth parts as he takes in a shuddered breath. His eyes well up, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. All without a word.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Marceline says to him. “I didn’t know at first.”

“What’s going on?” I ask. Seeing Harlin this destroyed is killing me. He already told me he loved someone else. Marceline is talking in riddles again.

She gives me a weary glance, but it’s clear she’s worried about Harlin, who still hasn’t moved or said a word. “Fine,” I say, sick of constantly being left out of the loop. I stand up, ready to take off. “I’m leaving—”

“Wait,” Harlin whispers, reaching to take my hand. Startled, I turn to him. He studies me with what can only be described as absolute pain. I nearly reach for him, but he lets my hand drop.

Harlin leans to put his elbows on his knees, his face in his palms. Marceline slides the bowl of mints toward him, but he doesn’t lift his head.

The wrinkles in Marceline’s skin seem to deepen. When her eyes meet mine, she shrugs apologetically. “You’re the reincarnation of his girlfriend. A Forgotten.”

I stumble back a step. “I’m what?”

“Your name was Charlotte Cassidy. Beautiful soul—very loving. In the end, you—”

Harlin jumps up then, rushing past us. He doesn’t say a word, and when the front door closes, I know he’s gone. Tears begin to gather in my eyes.

“He’s never learned to handle his grief,” Marceline explains. “He’ll find you when he’s ready. He always does.”

I’m not sure how to process what’s happened. Instead, I reach to take a peppermint. As I suck on it, my body begins to shake with the realization. “I had another life?” I ask. “It’s all real?”

Marceline nods. “Take heart in the fact that you sacrificed yourself for the good of the world. That’s admirable. And now they’ve sent you back to do it again.”

I’m light-headed, and I’m not sure if I’m prepared to hear any more. “This isn’t possible,” I murmur. “None of this is possible.”

“I assure you, there are many things in this world that you can’t understand, child. But it doesn’t mean they’re impossible. In fact, like coincidences, there is a reason for everything. Even the things we can’t explain.”

I meet the old woman’s eyes. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m a Seer, like Harlin. Only, my vision is keener—mostly because it’s mixed with my psychic abilities. I thought I was retired, but it seems you’ve brought back my sight.” She leans forward in her chair, the wood creaking. “You’re special. And not because you’re Forgotten. But because you’ve come back. And that’s never been done before. There is a purpose in this, even if we can’t see it just yet.”

“So all that stuff—the skin turning gold, the people forgetting, that’s going to happen to me?”

“Eventually. But you’re still very new, and you seem to handle the Needs better. Maybe it’s because you’ve done it before; maybe not. Either way, these things take time.”

I sway with grief, but then something she said the first time we met occurs to me.

“Shadows,” I say. “You told me once to watch out for them. But I don’t know what a Shadow is.” The mint has worked to calm me, not creating the same confusing sensation as last time. Now it’s more like a warm blanket has been wrapped around me. I lean back into the sofa cushion and Marceline begins rocking again.

“The Shadows were like you once,” she begins quietly. “They had the Need, gave people hope. They found them at just the right time, and said just the right thing. But instead of filling their destinies, they turned away from the light, binding themselves to Earth for selfish wants. And when you turn away from the light, all that’s left are the Shadows. Those Forgotten didn’t find the freedom they’d hoped for. Their existence is dark and cold. Lonely. They are compelled once again, but this time, it’s with Want—the overwhelming desire to find someone and change their lives for the worse. They fulfill their Wants to stay powerful. If they don’t, they’ll wither, but never die. Being a Shadow is a fate far worse than death.”