"You mean any seer."
"Yes," he said.
"What are the chances I'm going to run into a seer who cares enough to look?"
His eyes narrowed. For a moment he looked almost angry, then he shook his head, as if to clear it. His voice came out calm once more.
"I have to erase you, Allie," he said simply. "It's not up for debate. And it's not meant as a punishment...it's for your protection."
"But why?"
"The Council is right in a way," he said, going on as if I hadn't spoken. "...Denying me direct access to you, I mean. They're trying to keep you safe. Not only from yourself...from other seers, from the human authorities, from anyone who might try to hurt you or sell you." At the blank look in my eyes, he shrugged again. "Your absolute, best protection is anonymity, Allie. Your life in San Francisco has made that easier...you generally don't do too much to call attention to yourself, which I appreciate, believe me."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Yeah, I've already heard enough for one night about just how 'insignificant' my life is, thanks very much. Apparently my lack of direction is what almost got me killed by those fruitcakes..."
He smiled, but the look in his eyes was almost grim.
"...Allie," he said, his voice gentle. "You should enjoy this time. Your life is going to get a lot more complicated once you're awakened for real. The longer you can stay anonymous, the longer things will stay relatively easy for you..."
"Easy?" I snorted, folding my arms. "You call tonight easy?"
He shrugged. "Tonight was an anomoly. Normally, your life is pretty uncomplicated."
"Pointless, you mean," I snorted.
I looked at him though, thinking about his words, in spite of myself. I still didn't believe him, but my brain was finally catching up with everything he was saying.
"So you weren't just going along with that guy," I said. "You really do think you're some kind of guard over me."
"I am," he said. "I was assigned by the Council."
"I see," I said, still going along with it. "So how long have you been doing this guard job, if you don't mind my asking?"
He frowned as if thinking, then looked back at me. "Nineteen years."
"Nineteen years," I repeated numbly.
"Yes."
"And I never saw you? Not once in all that time?"
"You did once." He looked faintly embarrassed again. "...I didn't tell the Council about that, either. We spoke once when you were about nine years old. But it's a lot easier to submerge those kinds of memories when you're a child...and it's less likely you'd make the connection with someone you'd see looking the same as an adult, even if you did remember."