Page 79 of Veil of Blood and Bone

Audra manages a kick to my sternum. The pain is inconsequential.

“I know. It’s her disease. But she hasn’t seized like this in a long time. Her new medication was working.”

Was.

Together, Helene and I hold Audra to the couch. Emotions flash across the former’s face faster than I name them. She can’t allow herself the space to feel. Any of it.

She knows better.

She folds herself into usefulness instead, waiting for the event finishes, turning her brain off in the process.

I’ve always admired her for it. Her resilience is astounding.

“That’s it, kiddo, you’re fine.” Her voice is even, the glide of her hands soft on Audra’s face. “You’ve got this. It’s nothing you haven’t handled before.”

This is the healer, the professional. This is the woman who puts her knees down the list of priorities until they might as well not exist.

“Does this happen to her often?” I grind out.

“It hasn’t in a few months. They used to be terrible. Anything might set off an attack like this. The stress...” Her throat tightens and threatens to cut off the explanation. “But it’s all okay, isn’t it, kid? We’ve been through tougher.”

Audra bows off the couch again and her eyes roll beneath closed lids.

Working my jaw, I send out a compulsion. Rest. Be still. Easy.

Her body, her mind, disobeys. The compulsion bounces off her, and I’m rattled. For one ugly second, panic replaces bloodlust.

Shadows undulate through the room, and for a full ten seconds, I realize with annoyance, the seizure has gotten worse instead of better. It’s a ticking clock.

Wren stands there with his arms across his chest. Against all odds, he’s calm.

Motherfucker.

“Wren, grab a blanket,” Helene orders. “Under her head. We need to make sure to keep her airways clear⁠—”

His shadows throw the cover to her before she finishes her sentence. It takes Helene another few beats to get her hands to work, to seize the folds, to angle them underneath Audra’s head.

“Stop.”

The word drags up from the cold depths of me, and outside, a roll of thunder rocks the house. It echoes in my ears.

I clamp my fists on Audra’s ankles, working my thumbs into tense muscles, pushing the compulsion into her heart, her mind, her essence.

“It’s fine. This happens,” Helene replies.

She refuses to blink, as though even half a heartbeat is too long to drag her attention away from her sister.

The heavy sensation roots in the base of my spine. Something shifts against my stomach, a different type of pressure.

I close my eyes, thumb trailing to Audra’s bare skin, sweeping away the cobwebs of my senses.

The shaking seems to have slowed down a bit.

“This isn’t a seizure,” I whisper bluntly.

The last time prophecy touched this family, Helene died screaming in my arms.

“It’s a vision,” Wren finishes for me.