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“Fucking hell, Bitty.” He flicked his thumb on the wheel of a red Bic and then talked through the exhale. “You shouldn’t have grown up like that.”
On a reflex, she stretched her arm out, feeling the old ache from where some of her many broken bones had reknit badly. “It was an early warning system. Or it was supposed to be, maybe. I could never save her, though.”
Uncle V’s upper lip twitched as if his fangs were descending and he was holding in a growl.
“It’s okay,” she told him.
And she would have reached out to—pat his arm? Or something? Except he was too intimidating when he was just being his sarcastic normal self. Like this? Nope. Hard nope.
He put the Bic down with exaggerated precision, making sure it stood up on its base. “Do you see yourself in the images?”
“No, never. Only others.”
He nodded. “That’s right. That’s the same for me.”
“So it is true. About you.”
“Yeah.” He pointed his cigarette at her. “This is not for public consumption, are we clear? This is between you and me.”
“Oh, of course.” She sat up a little straighter. “Yes.”
“I don’t need a bunch of people coming up and asking me questions they do not want the answers to.”
“I understand completely.” God knew she hated what she’d seen of her birth parents. “I won’t say a word.”
He smoked for a moment, and the scent calmed her, maybe because she could remember the times she had gotten to stay up during the day to watch her uncles V and Butch play billiards in that room full of green-felt-topped tables. It had been a very special treat, to get cozy in her PJs and curl up on the big couches with a blanket—and pretend, as her lids grew heavy, that she was just resting her eyes as she listened to the grown-ups talk and laugh.
“Bitty, I’m going to tell you a truth you’re not going to believe right now, but that over time, if you’re smart, you’ll come to know is fact.” He tapped his cigarette over the ashtray even though there were no ashes at the tip. “What you’re shown is not your fault. You can’t control thechannel when it opens up or what it delivers, and there’s nothingyoucan do to stop destiny. You also can’t insert yourself too much. I’ve always sensed that if I get too far into it, the energy that is due to another is going to pull up in my own driveway. I give people hints and clues when there’s a possibility they might be able to help the outcome, but how they handle the situation as it arises is up to them.”
“And you never tell them when they can’t change anything?”
As his brows dropped low, the symbols in the Old Language around his left temple distorted, although the warning remained legible—and she had to agree with what he’d said. The glimpses into the future that they were privy to meant they were walking a dangerous line. Mortals were not supposed to dabble in fate. They were only supposed to walk forward in it, the course carved by individual decisions forging a path that, if you were lucky, maybe allowed you to see a couple of feet in front of you.
The longer course of a life was to stay veiled, the unknown and unknowable… like death: A law of nature that stalked you, and hopefully was kind with a quick-and-easy when it finally caught up and claimed you.
In the silence that stretched out, part of her wanted to know what her uncle was remembering, so she could learn firsthand exactly what lines he’d drawn and when. Except she had enough of her own problems, and besides, she wasn’t a war-hardened Brother. If Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, looked like he was revisiting traumatic events, she couldn’t imagine how she would handle the trip.
“You need to tell me what you saw,” he said eventually.
Bitty glanced at the computer screens, all of which had the filters that required a person to sit directly in front of them to view whatever was being projected.
“You know all kinds of private things,” she said as she hesitated. “And you keep them that way.”
“It’s a vault up here.” He tapped the side of his head, by the tattoos.“Provided it’s not illegal or goes against the stated rules and regulations of the throne. And even then, there are gray areas.”
“I haven’t told my father or mom about any of this. I didn’t want them to think I was dangerous and send me away.”
And that was another truth she hadn’t wanted to even put into words: She’d always worried they’d renounce the adoption. They’d never given her any reason to doubt their love, but she was an “other” to them. What if they decided she was too much trouble or too complicating?
“You’re not dangerous, sweetheart. And like I said, none of this is your doing. Now, talk to me. What did you see that brought you here.”
She pictured the image of L.W.’s autocratic, arresting face, bathed in dark-blue light.
“It has to do with Little Wrath.” What a stupid soubriquet. The male was “little” like a tank compared to a golf cart. “And that’s why I want to be… careful. He’s more important than other people—”
“You need to tell meexactlywhat you were shown,” Vishous said in a sharp tone.
Gone was the reassuring uncle, in his place was the Black Dagger Brother who was one of the King’s private guard. And she should have expected the shift.
