Pandora's Box

10. Whistlers

I'm still puzzling over Leda's reading, the complex emotions battling within her and unveiling a depth of feeling I'd never realized she had, when my phone buzzes. I know who it is without looking. Indie is the only person that ever messages me, and I'm afraid to see what he has to say. Eventually, though, I give in and fish my phone out of my bag.

Got a last minute do over gig. Whistlers tonight?

A wave of relief washes over me at the normalcy of his message, but irritation needles it away. How can Indie act like everything is okay? How can he go and book another gig when I've told him that I've seen Molly's death not once, but twice? I think to Delian's story about the cursed prophet and wonder if that's a curse everyone gifted with the Sight carries. Why is it that when it comes to important visions, no one wants to hear what I have to say?

I make a decision, firing off my reply. If Indie isn't interested in saving Molly, then I'll have to do it myself. In my second vision, Molly was writing - music, I think, and a letter. I shudder as I remember her wrist and shake the image from my mind. The haughty, better-than-thou Molly I know doesn't mesh with the broken version in my vision. I need to know if she's going through something, if something has happened to her recently, that might drive her to this point. Maybe I can use that to take a more practical, less 'mystical' approach to saving her; one that Indie will be able to understand and support.

My phone buzzes again, with a response from Indie.

Dinner before? Patrizonis?

I have a feeling Indie will try to stop me from saying anything to Molly, but he doesn't have to worry about that. I may not have had a vision like this before, but even I know that you don't tell people you know they're going to die because you saw it with your freaky mind powers. And with Molly? I can't imagine that going well for me. Patrizonis is my favorite Italian food truck, though, and I would give anything for a normal evening with Indie at this point, so I tell him yes.

There are a few hours left in the day, enough for me to drop the books off at home and meet Indie before we make our way to Patrizonis. I pack up all of my things, tucking the tarot cards back into the box and burying it deep in my bag, before locking up and making my way home.

Along the way, I mull over my approach to the Molly situation. I know I need to Sense her, get a handle on her current state, before I do anything else. I'm hoping that being around her will be enough to trigger another vision, but I make a backup plan just in case it isn't. That's as far as I get with my planning though. Without more information, there isn't anything else I can do at this point short of following Molly around. Molly hasn't been friendly toward me from the beginning, so I imagine a 24-hour tail would end in disaster.

Dusk is beginning to settle as I reach the apartment. I must have taken a few wrong turns while I was lost in thought, because there's no way it should've taken me that long to get home. I need to start paying attention; these time slips can't be a sign of good mental health. If Indie knew I was losing chunks of my day, he'd use it as an argument against anything I told him. I can't have him thinking I'm crazier than normal while I'm trying to convince him I need his help to save Molly.

Right on mental cue, Indie appears in the entryway, holding the door open for me with a flourish and his signature gallant smile.

"Mademoiselle," he says, releasing the door as I pass and following me up the stairs.

"Don't you ever get tired of being such a gentleman?" I tease, handing him the books so I can dig for my keys.

He touches his chest in mock affront before taking the stack off my hands. "Me? Never! Chivalry shall not die so long as Inderjit Bhatti draws breath."