Page 7 of Veil of Blood and Bone

“Shieldmaiden?” Audra eeps in surprise. “You? Helene? You’ve got it wrong. She’s a bookstore clerk.”

“I haven’t heard the term,” I mutter.

“Because you haven’t been paying attention to Mom’s story.”

I’m silent for a beat.

Both of us fixate on the sway of feathers on the man’s cloak and a thud goes through my cold, responsible heart before he tips his head.

“Enjoy your day, ladies. Well met.”

Late, so late, but I stay and mark the moment the man dissolves into the crowd. “Well. Was that weird.”

I mean it as a question but it comes out a statement.

I clear the crud from my throat and throw the wheelchair into motion. “He’s obviously got paint in his eyes. I’m wearing the wrong costume.”

The getup is full on milkmaid, something I’m positive Mr. Barnes bought at least a decade ago from the Spirit Halloween store on clearance. The bust is too steep and the skirt too high, my blonde hair clumped into much cruder and lazier braids than the Viking warrior.

He’s a professional, clearly.

I have to laugh.

“Oh, don’t pretend you weren’t checking him out from top to bottom,” Audra says. “He was objectively hot.”

“Too hot for me.”

But my sister’s on a winning streak now. “He was staring at your cleavage. I don’t think he was too hot for you. I think he would give you a tumble in the hay if you wanted. Wrong costume or not, he didn't care.”

I consider an eye roll and stuff it aside.

How many times had she heard mom use those words? Struggling to laugh through her tears and make light of everything by picking out an actor or singer, a flavor of the month, to pretend fuck?

That’s the thing about struggle. You learn to train yourself to tuck your emotions away rather than wearing them on your sleeve. It’s safer to be heartless.

“Let’s go, Audra.” I don’t ask her what level of points I lost by ogling the man.

He sticks to the corners of my mind like glue until the stall swims into view. Cardboard boxes with the flaps pushed together lean against the sides of the booth, ready for me to unpack.

The rest of the festival started without us, thanks to Audra’s earlier episode.

Mitzi Jones needs no announcer with her hot pink track suit. She’s already got cell phone in hand, punching out numbers and staring down a long, hooked nose at me with a pointed expression.

Barnes will hear about my tardiness.

What else is new?

“I got it from here, okay?” Audra rests her palm on mine. “I’ll go search for the spare battery while you do what you do. And once I find it, I’m checking something…”

“What?”

She swivels left to right then lowers her voice and mumbles, “A clue in mom’s journal. There’s a pattern to what she highlighted. It’s a map.”

“Audra…”

“Who knows. It might have something to do with why we moved here.”

I flash her a grateful grin before tottering on wooden legs to the job I said I’d get done an hour ago. “Grab the battery, okay? It’s buried in our stuff somewhere.”