Page 160 of Veil of Blood and Bone

Indeed, the voice in my head adds. What use is there in claiming her if she will only leave you? This situation is on her shoulders. Isn’t it? Your lost years. The incomprehensible loneliness...

“Because the storm outside is made of magic. Because the house is empty, and we almost slept through it all,” I mutter.

Where would she go? Why?

The living room is vacant and cold, without a trace of their energies lingering. Which means we dallied much longer than we should have, and in the space between breaths, she took charge. She ran.

To get away from us.

Nicholas shoulder checks me on his way past and inhales, his features darkened by rage. “A fucking hour. That’s how long they’ve been gone.”

His wrath tails him like a ghost.

Wren follows, darkness leeching from his skin. His shadows go wild and push through the frosted panes of glass into the whiteout beyond.

The cruelest thing any of us have done to Helene is love her.

“I told you the memory was a bad idea. I told you she wouldn’t handle it well.” Nicholas shrugs into his coat, claws snagging on leather.

Yes, a terrible idea. Why did you insist on it?

I shake my head, splitting apart. The words in my head are meant to punish. Demanding more than I'm willing to give.

Worse because I'm still unsure whether the voice is my own or something else.

Our pain combines, concentrated around us, suffocating.

Each time, we understand the rules of the curse. The day we each greet Helene in her latest form is nothing but the beginning of a terribly long and cruel goodbye. We meet believing we're blood and bone but in truth, we are nothing but phantoms.

“The connection isn’t strong enough for us to pull on yet. Not even after...” Wren trails off, his hands in his pockets. “Well. I thought a few orgasms might do the trick. I barely feel her.”

I snarl, glancing out the window. “The memory wasn’t what scared her away. In fact, it was the only way for her to fully recognize what she’s dealing with.”

Was it? The voice is insistent. Or were you desperate to reclaim those lost moments too?

Wind howls against the house’s eaves.

“You had to choose the last time we were together. Didn't you?” Nicholas points a warning finger at my face, his fangs openly displayed. “You had to go full tilt right away. There was no better remembrance to ease her into this?”

I round on him. “I’m not the one who chose the memory. I’m the one who brought her into it. She chose. Her soul decided, the same way she always has. And that’s where we ended up.”

Nicholas and his anger adds a layer of scent to the air, a static charge. Wren only stands there, trapped in sulking amusement and cloaked in darkness.

What do we do?

Two choices. The voice, serpentine and coiled in my head, drowns out the sounds of the world. Go after her. Not the optimal choice with the current conditions. Or hand her over to the gods and end this charade.

“I’m sick of your games and your manipulations,” Nicholas is saying. “We all know this cycle has sped up. And if the Norns are truly weaving another fabric of fate, then we didn’t have time to waste. Now we’ve lost our girl, and I’m not going to bullshit away another second.”

“Then perhaps it’s best for you to leave this to me. I’ve already sent my shadows out to find her. She hasn’t gone too far,” Wren replies.

Nicholas hunches forward. “Far enough for her scent to go cold.”

“Is that what we’ve devolved to? Dick measuring contests?” Anxiety threads through me like invisible tattoos.

I’ll never hand her over.

I snap mental barriers down to block out the voice, but the knot in my chest stays lodged against my heart.