A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(56)

I start, the diner scene filtering in once again. I wait a beat as the fear fades, the feeling of hopelessness. I don’t want that to happen to me. I refuse to disappear. A new streak of bravery rushes in at the thought of losing everything.

“I’m a Forgotten,” I tell Monroe, almost confused at the sudden affection I have for him. “But I’m not like the others—not exactly. You used to be my Seer,” I say. “You used to be my friend.”

Monroe swallows hard, his expression softening as a slow realization comes over him. He glances at Harlin, who’s still smiling. “Is she—” He stops. “How is that possible?”

“As Marceline told me,” I say, “there is no such thing as impossible.”

“Marceline?” Monroe’s mouth quirks up. “Is that old psychic a part of this?”

“She’s my Seer. She’s also actually psychic. Marceline told me who I used to be. She told me about Charlotte.” At that, Harlin lowers his head, as if there’s still pain at the sound of the name. Across from me, Monroe’s blue eyes fill with tears, but he blinks them away.

“I see,” he says. “Well, sweetheart. You have been missed. You’ve been missed dearly.”

I smile at the thought of this, the thought that I hadn’t been completely forgotten. “I don’t remember everything,” I say. “But little bits and pieces have come back. And then, of course, there are the visions.” I pause. “Of Onika.”

Any joy on Monroe’s face quickly fades. “The beast has come for you.”

I’m taken aback by his choice of words. Even though I remember Monroe calling Onika a monster, I also know that he once loved her. Could his feelings truly have changed so drastically?

“She hasn’t come for me,” I say. “At least not yet.”

“I’m sure she will,” Monroe responds. His knuckles are white as he keeps his clenched fists on the table. “She won’t rest until she finds you. She knows how I cared for you. That alone is enough reason for her to destroy you.” Monroe exhales and runs his fingers through his thinning hair. It’s then that I notice the dark circles beneath his eyes. The veins visible under his skin. I’ve seen that look before.

“You’re sick,” I murmur.

Monroe lifts his gaze to mine. Harlin clears his throat as he turns away, and I think that he already knew.

“Cancer?” I ask. When Monroe nods, it’s like I’ve been punched in the gut. “Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I’m not sure if they’re for Monroe or for the grief I still have about my mother’s death. Either way, I’m heartbroken. I tell him so.

“I’ve been sick a long while now,” Monroe says gently. “Even finished all the stages of grief. But leading you to the light was my greatest gift. I’m so proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a gift,” Harlin says. “It was a goddamn tragedy.”

Monroe turns to him, compassion softening his features. “I know you see it that way,” he tells him as if they’ve had this conversation before. “But there was no other choice. You know that.”

Harlin shakes his head. “Well, the universe can find someone else, because I won’t lose her again.” His voice rises, drawing the stares of the other customers.

“Harlin,” I say, touching his arm to calm him, but his gaze is fixed on Monroe.

“I’m not ready to go anywhere,” I say to both of them. “I have a life. A family. Marceline said that I could control the Need, bring it on to get stronger. But I’m not going to let myself disappear. Not even for the light.”

Monroe furrows his brow. “What else did Marceline tell you?”

“That I’m here to restore balance, to stop Onika. And I think you might be the only person who knows how to help me.”

“I assure you I don’t. But, sweetheart”—he looks concerned—“Onika’s a very powerful Shadow. I’m not sure there is a way to stop her. Perhaps you should focus on your destiny, on being a Forgotten—”

“She is my destiny,” I say. “But I don’t even know where to start. I have to find a way.”

Monroe covers his mouth with his hand, lost in thought. I wonder about the guilt Monroe feels. He’s been helping the Forgotten, and yet the one person he obviously loved the most turned to the Shadows. It still haunts him after all of these years.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I slide it out cautiously, afraid it’s Abe again, but I’m relieved to see my father’s number. I stand and wander to the corner of the diner for privacy.

“Hey, old man,” I say. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, kid. Sorry to bug you, but it’s the strangest thing. I’m here filling out insurance paperwork for the upcoming school year, and I can’t for the life of me remember your sister’s middle name. Do you know it?”

“Dad.” I start to laugh, but then I stop cold. A sense of dread slips over me. “It’s Constance,” I whisper with a catch in my voice. “Dad, she’s named after Mom.”

“How did I ever forget that?” he asks, sounding bewildered.

“I guess you’re getting old,” I offer, but shoot a look back at Harlin. When I do, his shoulders tense as if he knows something’s wrong. He stands.