I stood frozen, my hand still on the door, a wave of something raw and unspoken crashing over me.
“Sometimes I wish I could be more…” I didn’t finish the thought. There was no use. What was the point?
This was her story, and I was the end of it.
eight
Astoria
November 2018
Rubbing at my chest, I flicked through the pages Nemo added to my file. This morning, I’d woken with a strange vibrating sensation. My heartbeat was relentless, as if something hovered at the back of my mind, pressing and trying to break free. But try as I might, I couldn’t recall anything of importance.
Back on Ishani duty, I laid the file across the small table in the room. It was sparse—just an old letter, its edges decaying, nearly illegible. The nameTempestwas the only one I could make out after scanning it fifty times. Alongside it were entries to an old diary of sorts. Though, it was difficult to read and had to be well over a few centuries old.
A. Wylde,was about all that I could make out.
I’d spent hours on Google with no luck. The search turned up nothing useful except for a vague mention of an Oxford student’s research paper on the occult, but even that was inaccessible. All I found was an article about the student’s work—a whisper of an unknown past that meant nothing and yet everything.
Closing my laptop, I turned my attention to Ishani, who had her tongue poking between her lips in concentration. Hannah had her sitting at the table, teaching her to crochet, and Ishani was determined to craft something.
"Ready for a break, Bug? We could try going for a walk again," I offered, trying to sound cheerful.
“I already did,” she muttered, her eyes focused on the yarn in her lap.
“With your mom?”
She rolled her eyes. "No, my nurse."
I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her tone sharp. "I’m skipping lunch today."
“You have to eat.”
“When I finish this.” She looked at me, brows pinched in concentration.
I sighed. “I’ll go find you something.”
She shrugged, turning her attention back to the hot pink yarn. When Ishani was set on something, there was no swaying her. Even food could not become a distraction.
I left her to her project and found Hannah behind the nurse's station, munching on her lunch. “How’s she doing?” she asked, without looking up from the novel she was reading.
“You’ve got her hooked…” I said, leaning in to look at the book in her lap.
“Pun intended?” Hannah glanced at me, a grin tugging at her lips.
“You bet.”
“Is she ready to try a bit of food?” she asked, turning another page.
I shook my head. “Nope. But she’s not irritable. Her meds seem to be working.”
Hannah shrugged. “Well, I was going to see if she’d go on a walk after lunch.”
My stomach sank.
“I didn’t get a chance earlier," she added.
“Piper must have taken her before she left,” I said quickly, trying to shake the unease that crept up my spine.
