Evantra looked out of the window, past Demeteria’s sweeping continental greenhouses. Each structure housed various types of crops and plants.

  Deneteria catered to every economic class and buyer, from the lowliest thug in Wisptown to the Corpos who sat in their thrones above the skies. Their products ranged from mass-produced crops with dubious nutrition value to organic produce cultivated in immaculate temperature and climate controlled environments. There were whispers that there were plants Demeteria cultivated that went beyond fragile, organic produce.

  Wind turbines the size of megabuildings, which would have eclipsed their historical predecessors, twisted languidly in the electric air of the dark Ectostorm. Black lightning flashed above her as Carmen drove towards Bastion. She hadn’t expected to be returning after merely a day.

  Lucas was asleep in the back seat, the boy’s mop of brown hair brushed up against the door. Seeing his reflection in the rear-view mirror, Evantra couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

  Then her gaze dropped to the tremors in her arm, which had only worsened.

  “Thank you for agreeing to this, Eva,” Carmen said softly, giving her a slight smile, before returning her eyes to the road. “I think it will be good for the both of you.”

  Evantra just nodded before closing her eyes, the rumble of thunder heralding the coming of the ectostorm.

  After another twenty minutes of driving, they eventually reached their destination.

  Bastion, the outskirts.

  Carmen rushed out of the car as the dark ectorain began to fall, whipping out an umbrella which she used to shield Evantra and Lucas from the beginnings of rain, heading towards the clinic. The storefronts in the neighbourhood Carmen had driven to bore some similarity to those in Wisptown, possessing the rustic, unrefined charm that had far more character than their sickeningly well-polished peers strewn about in the upper districts of Elsecaller City, where the rich resided.

  The therapist’s office was warm. Bright lighting, lots of beige, and light brown tones, which lulled her into a sense of immediate comfort. The receptionist gave them a brief smile, handing them a tablet which prompted them for a range of information that wasn’t strictly necessary to the clinic.

  Carmen saved her from the monotony of filling it out, and she watched as one of the therapist’s doors opened to reveal a young man of Indian descent who looked to be a few years older than her. He gave them a shaky, anxious smile as he flicked through his tablet.

  “Evantra Wraithmarked? Please, come in.”

  ***

  Evantra took a seat on the beige couch as the therapist sat opposite her. The young man scratched his head, puzzling over the tablet with a wince.

  “Sorry about this, I’m new.”

  “I see.”

  I guess he’s the best that Carmen could afford.

  She stared at him and watched him sigh as he eventually put down his tablet, seemingly giving up on whatever task he had been attempting. Shaking his head, he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair, withdrawing a notebook from the table in front of him.

  Frankly, he seemed to be more anxious than she was to be sitting there.

  “So… how was your week?”

  “How much am I paying you for each minute?”

  The blunt question seemed to catch the man off-guard, as he scratched the back of his neck.

  “I’m not the best with arithmetic. It’s why I got into the Arts… psychology never really managed to make it up there with the rest of the true sciences… though many corporations have taken their stabs at mind control, heh heh.”

  “What got you interested in psychology?”

  “Oh, you know. You’re an anxious wreck and want to learn to fix yourself, and before you know it—”

  He broke off, dark brown eyes narrowing.

  “Wait a minute, I’m supposed to be asking you the questions.”

  “Shame. We have what, fifty minutes to go now? Almost there,” Evantra responded, her tone curt.

  The man seemed to pause, before the anxiety in his body language seemed to melt away. He smirked slightly, leaning back in his chair.

  “Funny thing, anxiety. You fixate on something, so afraid of it. And then when the worst thing possible happens, it all flitters away. I just started as a psychologist, and I’ve been dreading the very first patient who gave me crap for my inexperience. Then just like that—”

  The man snapped his fingers.

  “You arrive and blow my expectations out of the water. Worse than I ever imagined. In some strange way… I’m freed from all those expectations I imposed on myself, and now I can do my job without shitting myself. Thank you.”

  Evantra frowned, staring at the man dubiously as he gave her a look of genuine gratitude.

  She began to seriously consider a change in her life path.

  If this guy somehow managed to make it as a psychologist, maybe I should consider giving up the Ghostslayer option to rake in some Panacea money. I could do bett—

  “Millie Radcliffe.”

  Evantra froze.

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  The man who had, just a moment ago, been fidgeting and anxious, seemed to gain a degree of confidence that she hadn’t seen in him before. He seemed entirely at ease, his eyes drilling into her own.

  “Tell me about her.”

  “I thought psychologists usually let their patients open up to them? This is starting to sound like an interrogation.”

  The man nodded, as if in understanding, before he shrugged.

  “Well… things change over time. Medical standards shift. Somewhere along the way, the psychological association probably realised that our patients were feeding us bullshit, so we took advantage of our newfound… freedom of information, courtesy of Seraphim’s eyes. We do our own due diligence,” the man’s smile had taken on a sinister gleam, before he seemed to catch himself and cough into his hand.

  “Why didn’t you attend her funeral?”

  The words that he delivered, so calmly, like a whisper, began to induce a sinking feeling in her chest. Every thump of her heart pulsed uncomfortably in her ribcage. She felt sweat surface on her skin, and she was sorely tempted to activate [conceal] to hide her physiological reaction to his words.

  “You must be enjoying this.”

  The man just nodded.

  “Anxiety and sadism go hand in hand.”

  Evantra kept her jaw firmly shut as she stared in defiance at the man.

  “Well then! If you’re so intent on remaining so silent, maybe I can tell you what I think,” the man started slowly, and despite his previously unassuming demeanour, his words began to create a sinking feeling in her gut, her heartbeat beginning to quicken.

  “Perhaps… you feel guilty for her death.”

  Evantra’s eyes lingered on the man as he rose from his seat, beginning to pace before her.

  “But come on, that’s not why you’re here, is it? Someone out on the side of the street could have told you as much. It would be a bloody waste of ectocreds if that’s all you took away from the session, and I have a reputation to build for myself. Can’t have you thinking that I’m a useless piece of crap,” he smiled at her, and Evantra gritted her teeth, reaching instinctively to her side, but feeling nothing in place of her Nagantra.

  Carmen had taken it away from her.

  “Guilt. Where does it stem from? Maybe you thought that if you had somehow interceded, she would be alive. Maybe you thought that if you had acted differently towards her somehow, that fate would have diverged, and she would be with you here today…”

  The man came to a halt.

  “Maybe you loved her.”

  Evantra shot to her feet, and the man instantly raised a placating hand.

  He seemed to shudder, and the immaculate image of the imposing, devious stranger he had presented melted away as he withdrew a handkerchief from his trousers to dab at the sweat that had surfaced on his forehead.

  “So, did it work? Do I have your attention?”

  Evantra stared at him in confusion.

  “It’s a new approach I’m trialling. For patients who respect me just about as much as the steaming dumps they take. Well?”

  “Traumatising your patients with something else so they forget whatever messed them up prior? You’re asking me if it worked?” Evantra said, her voice incredulous in response.

  The man just shook his head as he collapsed into his chair.

  “Well, did it?”

  Well… I guess he has a point.

  Not that I’m ever going to admit it.

  He carried on, his question rhetorical.

  “Do you know when criticism hurts the most, Evantra? There are times when someone is so off-base about you that their words become absurd, a hilarity. That hardly hurts. But things change when they say something that needles at you, clinging to a part of you, no matter how you try to shake or forget it. When they say something that resonates,” the man’s dark eyes glittered in the artificial comfort of the room.

  “Perhaps the reason for that discomfort is because you sense a sliver of truth in it. Perhaps that truth is a falsity, your insecurities twisting your perception of yourself such that the words ring true. I hardly think that you are so emotionally stunted as to be blind to the ways that your insecurities influence you. Anyone with any semblance of self-awareness would be able to discern the beginnings of why something resonates with them,” the man said gently, his words losing their initial bite, gaining a level of sincerity that they had previously been devoid of.

  The man gave her a level stare.

  “It is my job to help you untangle that. To what end? So that you may pursue your goals, whatever they may be, unburdened. Just as the people that we are afraid of failing would wish for us. So, Evantra Blair, let me ask you again.” the man paused, looking up at her.

  “Why don’t you tell me about your week.”

  Evantra stared, dazed, at the young, Indian man whose name she had just learned of with the beginnings of a newfound level of respect.

  She sat back down.

  “Kugan… just how many times did you practice that in the mirror?”

  “You don’t want to know,” he said sheepishly, shaking his head, “did you like it?”

  “You scared the sh— crap out of me,” Evantra chuckled, and Kugan joined in.

  Then her face abruptly fell flat.

  “Don’t do it again.”

  “Peace.”

  He raised his arms in surrender, and Evantra sighed.

  “What else did Seraphim corporation tell you about me?”

  “Truth be told, I was just fucking with you. It was for dramatic effect.”

  Evantra gaped at the man who shamelessly revealed his act.

  “Your neighbour Carmen had a call with me. Told me the basics, what she thought you could work on.”

  Abuela, I swear I’m going to—

  “Let’s start with something a little easier, shall we? Ease into things.”

  Evantra stared at him, but instead of resorting to his previous theatrics, he just continued matter-of-factly.

  “Noelle Laurent. I heard from Carmen that this girl betrayed you. Running when you were in danger. She saved your life today, according to Carmen,” the man continued, his eyes lingering carefully on her expression.

  “What are you going to tell me? That I should trust her all of a sudden, now that she’s saved my life, and magically redeemed herself?” Evantra snorted, delivering her riposte dryly.

  “I frankly don’t give a flying fuck just what you do with her. I don’t care one bit about your relationships,” Kugan said, examining his fingernails idly, before beaming at her. “It is your reaction that’s fascinating. Why so defensive? You are the puzzle that I want to figure out.”

  “I thought they would have warned you guys against objectifying your patients. Isn’t caring about our relationships the whole point of it all?”

  What is it with all these eccentric medical professionals?

  First, that Doctor Isabella Chen, and now—

  “It seems like you’re pretty hard on others when they make mistakes.”

  Kugan smiled.

  “Any clue as to why?”

  ***

  Two years ago.

  “Evantra! Are you coming?”

  Evantra heard her mother, Evangeline Blair, call her from the kitchen.

  “Coming! Can’t catch a fucking break,” Evantra whispered under her breath, staring down at her phone.

  Flaker: Hey, Mills. Mum’s taking me to Mrs Huang’s. Save me pls.

  Rad-cliffe: Figures. She must be busy preparing for the birth. No way she’d be letting you text the creepy occult lady’s daughter in the middle of the day.

  Flaker: She’s been lecturing me all day about her superstitious bullcrap. About how to calm Mrs Huang down and stuff if shit hits the fan. Doesn’t want any bad spirits around… for someone who hates the occult so much, I didn’t take her to be such a hypocrite.

  Rad-cliffe: Look… your mum might be cooky, but maybe it’s a good idea to listen to her this time?

  Flaker: A little bit of anxiety isn’t going to be the end of the world, Mills. Who isn’t anxious when they’re giving birth, god. When she’s occupied, I’m going to get the hell aw—

  “Evantra! There you are.”

  Evangeline Blair strode up to her, wrenching her phone out of her hands with a glare which only deepened when she read the messages they had been exchanging. Her mother’s wavy black hair was swept up in an economical bun, prepared for the messy job ahead of her.

  She was dressed in pink scrubs, which would have been perfectly adorable if her face hadn’t darkened to the point that it looked like it would give a raging Ectostorm a run for its money.

  “In the car. Now.”

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