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AFTER SEVERAL MORE MINUTES, ABE PUT the eyedrops in her eyes one last time and announced that he was finished. She sat up slowly. A new wave of anxiety skittered through her. “Do you really think it will work?”
He wilted in place. “Can you ... Can you not see the colors?”
“I’ve been able to see them almost as soon as you started,” she said with a grin. “I meant, do you think it will last this time?”
He tucked his fingers under her chin before tilting it up. “Let me see,” he said, taking way more time than necessary to gaze into her eyes. “I don’t see or feel any more of the eraserfall crystals, but we’ll know in a few hours if I actually got them all.” He kept staring into her eyes for several more seconds.
When it became painfully obvious that he was looking just for fun and not for any eraserfall-related reason, she dropped her head onto his shoulder.
“Hopefully you’ll start seeing more positive emotions now,” he said. “Now that you have a different perspective on life or whatever.”
She smiled as a puff of red love escaped his skin. Seeing the color was nice, but feeling his fingers wrapped between hers felt even better. She let time pass just enjoying the moment. But now that the reality had started to settle in, they needed to talk. Even though they needed to have this conversation, she still wanted to avoid it.
With a deep breath, she forced the words out. “Remember in the catacombs when I could see that you desired Naki, and you didn’t realize I could see it?”
Abe flinched as he started rolling the little tools up in a plastic sheet. “I desired information from her; I didn’t desire her.”
“I know, but that’s not my point,” Imara said, waving a hand through the air. “The point is, I see things with my hila that are usually hidden. It sort of makes our relationship unfair.”
He nodded slowly while a drip of mustard yellow guilt fell away from his skin. Just as he started talking, a new emotion appeared. A thread that she immediately recognized as desire, but in a color she had never seen before. The brownish reddish thread fluttered out mostly around his shoulders. She decided to call the color cinnamon, but she still didn’t know what it represented.
Abe rolled his shoulders back as the cinnamon threads kept fluttering. “People don’t keep secrets in a healthy relationship anyway. I didn’t technically lie about Edrice, but you probably would have figured out our history if you’d had your hila. Maybe it’s better if you do see all my emotions. Then I can’t keep anything from you again. I don’t think it’s a big deal.”
“Maybe it is a big deal,” Imara said, helping him roll up the plastic sheet that covered the couch. “You definitely shouldn’t try to keep something big like that hidden from me ever again, but I think it’s also important that I don’t interpret your emotions without understanding them.”
Once the plastic sheet was in a tight roll, she dropped it to the ground with a thud. After a tiny swallow and a short mental pep talk, she said, “I’ve thought about this and I came up with a solution, sort of.” She resisted the impulse to grab the hair on the back of her neck, but she had to do something with her fingers. She started picking at her nails instead. “I’m ... I think you’ll agree. Well, I hope you’ll agree. I mean, I guess I don’t know what you’ll think, but I’d love to know your opinion.”
Abe had been peeling a plastic sheet off the wall but stopped halfway. He took her by the hand and didn’t say another word until they were both sitting on the couch, facing each other. “What’s your idea?”
This time, when the cinnamon threads fluttered out around his shoulders, she pinpointed the emotion. Desire to improve.
That gave her the strength she needed to continue, a little less anxious this time. “If I see an emotion and I suspect you don’t realize I can see it, I’ll tell you what emotion I see. But that’s it. I just say the emotion and that’s the end of the discussion. If you want to talk about it or explain it, you can, but you don’t have to. And I’ll do my best to not interpret the emotion.”
He blinked a few times before he responded. His jaw worked as if considering her words carefully. Finally, he nodded and said, “I think that’s a good idea.”
Imara let out a long sigh and everything felt right. For a moment, she even forgot about her fugitive status. There was still plenty to do, but for now, she felt like she could take on the world.
When Abe started running his fingers through the curls on top of her head, she felt even better. She grinned at him and said, “I felt bad having an advantage over you, but you sort of have an advantage over me too. In the catacombs, I knew you desired something from Naki, but you knew I had a wound in my past that involved Naki. That’s pretty incredible. I don’t think most healers sense emotional wounds like that.”
“Well...,” Abe said, leaning back into the couch. Small mustard yellow drips of guilt fell away from his skin. “I can’t sense emotional wounds either. At least not for most people. I can’t explain how it happened in the catacombs except that I was in tune with you more than I’ve ever been in tune with anyone. I had felt wounds in the past, but the feeling was so muted, I barely even noticed it. Then you came along, and you acted like an amplifier or something. It still took me forever to recognize that I was feeling wounds, but around you, I’ve always felt them deeper than with anyone else.”
Those words made a blossom of heat grow in her chest. With a grin, she said, “I think it’s mostly weird that you’re a feeling healer. Most healers are seers. That’s probably the only reason it took you so long to figure it out.”
He smiled as he traced the back of her hand with a light touch. “I never would have believed it without you. Even now, I always feel your wounds more intensely.” He shrugged as a playful grin appeared on his face. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates.”
She snorted but cuddled closer to him anyway.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he said. “The Kenyan Council is making a bid tomorrow to move the global vote here in Nairobi instead of in Egypt.”
Imara raised an eyebrow. They both left the couch and went back to rolling up the plastic sheets. “How did you find that out?”
“I heard people talking about it while I was out getting supplies. It sounds like most people here are suspicious of Santini and the taggers. Do you think the Kenyan Council has a chance of getting the bid?”
Imara used her thumbnail to loosen the adhesive attaching the plastic sheet to the wall. “Probably. Kenya is one of the most well-respected territories in the world. There’s this lady on the Kenyan Council named Makena. Whenever she gives a speech, pretty much everyone in the world agrees with it. She has a lot of influence, but she never abuses it. She’s the best.”
Abe gathered the rolls of plastic sheets into a pile. “That’s encouraging.”
“I wonder ...,” Imara said, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “The Kenyan police will probably handle security for the bid, but they might need extra people for an event that big. I wonder if they might hire me for the event. That way, I’ll have firsthand knowledge of everything that happens. Plus, if Santini tries anything, I’ll be there to deal with it.”
“That’s a good idea, except I’m going to ask to be hired too. I don’t want you to be alone if Santini or the taggers are at the event.” He slid his thumb across his jawline as a look of concentration overtook his face. “If they get the bid and move the vote here, that could change everything. They could stop Santini before the vote even happens.” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens during the bid.”
