Page 81 of Veil of Blood and Bone

I wish, just once, she’d let herself fall apart before life forces her to.

This prophecy isn’t new, by any means. But usually the girl’s visions start slow and build. She’s always been drawn to tarot readings, runes, even sketches. The Norns have taken a particular interest in Audra’s soul. She’s one of the best Seers out there no matter who she is.

Something has changed, and we were right.

My claws dig into her frail ankles. Don’t break her bones.

Equally frail is my hope. This is not a good thing. Gods, all of them, are petty and vindictive.

They hold grudges like life lines.

Thousands of years, and they’re still not content to free us. They want us ground down to dust and scattered on the wind to Ginungagap.

By the time I lift my head, Wren is staring a hole through me.

“We were expected,” he says in an undertone, too inaudible for Helene to pick up.

“I know.”

And that’s what worries me more than anything. Because every time fate finds us first, she dies younger.

Chapter 17

Helene

We’re cursed.

There. I’ve said it. There’s no way around it now. There’s rarely a motive for shitty things happening but Audra losing her mind on top of everything else...

Not only a seizure, but talking full on Norse gods and mystical, world-ending prophecies.

I build my argument with anger and logic, simmering hotter as I work through it.

Another round of you're fine and it’s going to be okay stall before they’re able to escape.

Was this the reason we ran? Why Mom never allowed us stay in the same area for more than a year?

“Wren, let me go.”

The shadowy barrier keeping me from Audra, allowing Nicholas to hold her down the way I should be doing, remains locked around me.

Tears scald and break, scalding paths along my cheeks.

“For fuck’s sake, stop touching me!” I yell.

And Audra stops seizing. Finally she passes out, falling into a restless sleep. I still can’t breathe. I still can’t look away or move or comfort her.

The invisible bindings loosen, and I sag, knocking my knees on the floor. “Kid⁠—”

“She’s sleeping now. She’ll be okay.” Wren gentles his voice like I’m fragile, and I feel it in every nerve and cell.

Fighting trolls is one thing; leaning into instincts from a handful of YMCA self-defense classes. But watching my sister in the grips of something I can’t stop and will never be able to fix is worse.

I collapse against the couch with understanding miles away.

“Shit. Nicholas? A little assistance?”

Wren takes one of my arms and Nicholas the other, moving seamlessly as they haul me to the chair. Nicholas’s hand is cool on my neck. He keeps it there like a compress, its presence underscored by a brush of claws beneath my ear.