Everyone has always underestimated Owen’s intelligence, including himself, but his ability to put things together has always been the reasoning behind it. His mind just makes connections. Had Kennedy only talked about nightmares, he’d have assumed it was as simple as that. But the paintings, the paintings were all of people in town, and it seemed odd she’d know so many people from such a variety of groups, so quickly. It was strange that he’d never even contemplated his current suspicions. She wasn’t a Siren, which was as far as his thoughts had ever gone. “Kennedy, do you have visions?” He breathed.