Page 28 of Veil of Blood and Bone

The cobblestones slicken with downed leaves and a hint of rainy mist rolling in from the mountains beyond. Yet the sisters maneuver along the curving road in a well-worn path, Helene’s slender fingers flexing on the chair handles.

Audra’s wheelchair chugs ahead, and the rain in the air is a soft patter, a whispered promise.

A few blocks brings the turreted roof of their home into view and Helene sighs with relief. “This is us,” she calls back to me. “I know it’s not much but the apartment is cheap, and I can walk to work.”

The house looms with a noble tilt, all faded grandeur. At one time, it was probably handsome—columns cracked, curling iron rails mottled through by rust, arching stained glass windows and towering gables.

Beneath the decay, there’s pride. It’s the kind of place with a name that demands respect. Up close, the rot and rain ruin the bones of this once-beautiful thing left to sag under the weight of time.

Something in me stirs like recognition and I take in the house with the eagerness of a man who wants to understand the facets of life.

The details are what’s important. I memorize them all.

It’s smaller than some of the buildings in town but still larger than any other house on the block. This stretch of the street boasts genteel decay while the opposite side has caved to the march of progress.

One-story modern houses. Interspersed storefronts.

I prefer ones like this. Right?

At least on the outside, they show their years well. The place needs manicuring. Even the evergreen bushes near the entryway are overgrown and thick, warped in places where order used to reign.

“Well, come on.”

Helene is already up the stairs, navigating the chair with stubborn strength greater than her size. The wheels scrape. Audra laughs through the winces ripped free with every bump. Does laughter make it easier somehow?

I don’t know them, yet the sight digs, protective, unfamiliar, wrong.

“You don’t want to get caught outside when the rain comes; you’ll miss out on dinner. It won’t be much, but I promise it will be better than being waterlogged,” Helene calls back.

I hover a step behind, hands twitching to help, though I can’t remember the last time I helped anyone. Not beyond today.

Helene catches her breath on the landing, the chair too heavy, the steps too narrow, and fumbles around for the keys.

“Here.” Audra tosses the ring to Helene. “You would have lost them.”

“Thanks. This stupid outfit has pockets but I—” Helene starts.

“You were doing gymnastics with a table leg. Yeah.”

“Great job, kid. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Helene’s voice is thin, determined, too alive for the air of this dead place. “Although we’re going to talk about your psychotic reaction to what happened. Mark these words on your calendar.”

I should help them. But I don’t offer, and she doesn’t ask, and I get the sense she wouldn’t want it.

Pride burns in her, glaring and bright enough to mask exhaustion.

The house sighs when she pushes the door open. An annoying familiarity about the two of them together, about the sister herself, clangs through me. What is it?

Why—

“Forest?”

Audra calls my name and I take the steps two at a time. “Yes, I’m coming.”

Inside, the foyer closes around us.

Wallpaper the color of bruises peels in long curls, the chandelier above clinging to its crystals like a queen refusing to admit she’s lost her crown. The place hums with old secrets in a voice between a whisper and warning.

Helene fumbles to lock the wheels on the chair. “Damn landlord. I know she’s a sweetheart but seriously, the draft? How many times?”