"I'll say," Lyse replied. "You have no idea."
He frowned, then nodded, leaning his head back against the wall.
"A sixth or a seventh sense-"
"Maybe a millionth sense," Lyse said, rolling her eyes. She didn't like this guy one bit.
"A what?" he asked, not smiling at her.
Their eyes caught for a moment, held, and then, finally, feeling really uncomfortable, she looked away.
This was not going to happen. She was not going to have "a moment" with Desmond. She didn't understand why she was here, but obviously there had to be some kind of a reason for it.
"Eleanora Eames, I think we should get married. Have some children. You don't need to be in love with me. We can work on that."
Lyse stared at him, gobsmacked. And that was when she realized that The Flood had used Desmond's broken love for Eleanora to swing the balance of power in their direction . . . and she instantly knew what she had to do to change their fate . . . and in doing so, seal her own.
She had to make them fall in love.
"Do you believe in magic?" she asked.
"What you call magic is just the Devil getting inside you," Desmond said. "It's evilness."
Lyse shook her head.
"It's not evil. It's magic. And it's just what I am. A witch. I know you're scared of it and later on you might do some really stupid shit because you think I'm rejecting you . . . but I just hope that you think about it. Really, really think about what kind of man . . . no, human . . . you want to be when you're old. Because you were not a happy man in the future when I knew you."
"Uh?" Desmond squeaked, stubbing out the cigarette on the floor.
"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked.
He stared back at her, utterly confused.
"Uh, sure, of course," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "You can tell me anything."
She sat forward, eyes gleaming.
"I'm not Eleanora. I'm your granddaughter, Lyse, and one day in the future you tried to destroy me. But I didn't let you."
He looked like he wanted to clear his ears out, make sure he'd heard her correctly.
"Beg pardon?" he asked.
She grinned, pleased that she'd freaked him out.
"I'm The Hierophant, the point of intersection where all magic meets. I can go back in time and I can change things. I'm the crossroads, and it starts and stops with me."
He shook his head.
"That's not real. You're not making any sense."
She frowned, her shoulders slumping. She thought she'd say her piece and everything would be fixed . . . but, no, she was still stuck here.
"It is, too, real," she said, after a long silence.
Desmond tried another tack: "I believe that you believe that you were your granddaughter and you did all that, but I think you were just lucid dreaming."
"Suit yourself," she said. "It will all happen just as I say . . . whether you believe me or not. Unless you do something about it."
He didn't believe her now . . . but maybe he would later. That was all she could hope for.
"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, changing the subject.
She didn't want to talk about Weir with the man who'd had him killed.
"Nope," she said. "You?"
"Never."
He caught her eye again-and she felt his love for her growing inside him.
"I really could fall in love with you," he said, still holding on to her gaze. "If things were different. I think I could."
"Why's that?" she asked, despite herself.
He smiled up at her-and it was the sweetest smile she'd ever seen.
"Because I can talk to you, Eleanora."
He took her hands and looked deeply into her eyes.
"If it makes you feel better about me, I promise here and now that I will never do anything to hurt you or your children or your grandchildren . . ."
And that was when Lyse felt herself dissolve into a million pinprick points of light.
Epilogue
Eleanora Eames sat at the station waiting for her train. She'd bought the ticket that morning and now she was nervous as a cat, wanting to be in California already without having to sit up on the train for days on end to accomplish the feat. Her excitement soon wore through her worry, and then she found that she was giddy with unbridled energy. She couldn't believe she was actually doing it, she was actually leaving Massachusetts and starting her life.
It seemed like a dream.
"I bought us some coffee."
Eleanora looked up into her savior's eyes. She didn't know how or why it happened, but Desmond had changed his mind. He'd seen that the men he was aligned with weren't doing the Lord's work. Instead they were torturing and terrorizing young women, trying to get them to confess to witchcraft. He'd helped Eleanora escape and now he was joining her on her trip out West.