Page 22 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

The world as I know it tilts on its axis. He... shouldn’t be able to... to do that. It’s supposed to protect me from him. I watch in terror as the pearl cracks and decays, the remains of generation after generation of Nightingale women drifting away in a phantom wind. The pewter skull melts into blobs of lead and iron right after it.

He... destroyed it. He broke the Nightingale pearl.

“Go. Home,” he grinds out through his two rows of perfect teeth.

Between one blink and the next the demon and his chamber are gone and I’m falling, falling, falling through a dark, endless void. I close my eyes as I fall forever, my stomach roiling, my body breaking out in a sticky, warm sweat.

“No, no, no, no,” I whimper into the darkness.

“Shhh,” Damien’s voice answers, a cool wash of comfort over the terror overtaking me.

I open my eyes. They’re still unseeing—or—perhaps not unseeing. It’s just that my brain can’t process the colors and edges of my surroundings. These details boil like a soup while my ocular nerves come back online.

“You’re alright, little bird,” he coos. “You had a seizure. You’re safe. You’re alright.”

My eyes adjust and my body comes back to me in pieces. I feel the sweat all over my skin, the cool rag he’s dabbing on my face and neck as he cradles my head in his hand. The smell of the rich, aromatic coffee sitting on the coffee table a few feet away. The hoodie has fallen on the floor along with several of the cushions.

I shift my legs slightly, testing for wetness. It’s rare that I lose control of my bladder during a seizure, but knowing my shitty luck, today would be the day. Nothing feels uncomfortable or sticky, which is a relief. Embarrassment still burns my face as I finally meet Damien’s gaze.

He’s... so calm. He continues brushing cool paths over my sticky brow and the slope of my neck. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, quiet and kind.

“Damien,” I slur. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “Seizures are nothing I can’t handle. I’m just sorry I wasn’t here to help you when it started.”

Relieved tears rim my eyes and drop onto my cheek. He tuts gently, brushing them away with the edge of his callused hand.

“Do you want an ambulance?” he asks.

“No,” I say quickly, frantically.

“Alright, no ambulances,” he says. No cajoling effort to change my mind. No uncertainty or distrust. He listens and trusts me to know what I need.

I sigh, closing my eyes. “Thank you,” I say. “H-how long was it?”

“About three minutes. Are they normally that long? Normally grand mal?”

“Usually quicker,” I say as my eyelids get heavy. “I think... I just overdid it today.”

Over Damien’s shoulder, I catch the stricken face of Naomi. Then drift my gaze over to Binx, just a few feet away. His sketchbook is on the floor. His glasses are on the couch next to me. He looks so frightened and it twists my stomach with guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” I whimper, emotion flooding my tired brain and filling my eyes.

“Shhhh,” Damien says, combing his hand through my hair. “You should have told me you were epileptic, little bird. I wouldn’t have kept you out so late.”

“You scared us shitless, Lil,” Binx says.

“You mentioned the epilepsy to me before, but I totally blanked on it,” Naomi says, sounding guilty.

“It’s not your fault,” I say. “I’m usually pretty good about it. I just...” My focus lapses and it takes me a moment to remember what I was saying. “Fuck, I’m so tired.”

“That’s alright,” he says. “Get some rest. You probably need it after all those muscle contractions. I’ll order us another rideshare to get you home, okay?”

I let out a low hum, comforted by the gentle brushing of his fingers through my hair. Some distant part of me is screaming that I’m not safe. That no one is safe around me. Not without my necklace. Not outside of the shop.

I hear paper tearing, and when I look toward the source, I see Binx has ripped a page out of his sketchbook. His unfinished sketchbook. He walks over to where I’m still settled on Damien’s lap, and hands me the cream-toned paper.

“To cheer you up,” he says.