Page 34 of Veil of Blood and Bone

“I can’t do this anymore,” Helene whispers. “I can’t keep fighting, Mom. Especially not when the fight is compounded by supernatural things.”

The sound of her voice does something wrong inside my ribs. She pauses, sniffs, and sets the stolen flowers in front of the gravestone.

“There was an attack today at the Longship Festival. And I know you would have laughed your ass off if you saw the spectacle, but this was a troll. I think it was a troll. And I... shit, I fought it.”

Hell, yes she did.

My mouth waters, bloodlust curving fangs lower yet.

Her tone, the lovely tone of it, higher than I’m used to hearing but somehow more melodic than it's ever been...

Helene has the sort of flowing mezzo soprano people stop to listen to.

I did.

She rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I signed up for self-defense classes because it was smart. I thought I'd capitalize on everything you taught me even though I fucking hated every second. But today, I wasn’t clever. I didn't think about anything except protecting Audra, and then these...instincts...took over. But she’s safe. So you’d be proud of that, at least.”

She stops again, her hands knotting on her lap before she sighs and drops to her hip.

Leave her to her grief.

It’s not fresh but the kind of old pain you tear open to remember there’s love beneath. And damn me, despite the hunger, I can’t walk away.

The dew will seep into her jeans and chill her. She’s mortal; things like heat and ice bother her. Where is the thought of her safety?

I step forward. Stop with my weight suspended over a curled dead leaf. Watching her is wrong. Approaching her is worse.

“Everything I do is for Audra, and she’ll never get better.” Helene stares at the flowers, but there’s no answers from the ragged stems. “She didn’t leave when I told her to, either. She was right there while I strangled a fucking troll with a banner.”

Her laughter is bitter and beautiful. My chest tightens, a restlessness pulling through me like a thread tugged from fabric.

“When do I get a break? When does it all start to feel lighter, Mom? Did you ever get to experience it or did you die too soon?” Her voice goes wet, her throat clogged. “The fight today was the first time in years I’ve felt alive. How fucked up is that?”

Helene lifts her hands and turns them from side to side, the gore caked into the cracks, too deep for soap to reach.

“I don’t know. Maybe I want to prove to myself it happened, and there’s something more to this life than struggle. You know? I go to work and break my back for Barnes and his minimum wage paycheck. Not that money is the most important thing; you taught me better, but it sure would help. It would make a huge difference with Audra’s medical bills.”

No, there is no assistance for the younger sister. Whatever bad blood she got from the father, a different sire than Helene, the girl suffers from progressive muscle weakness, a loss of tissue and mass, and difficulty walking.

I’ve seen it in humans before.

The problems will progress, worsening over time until Audra experiences respiratory issues as well. Physical therapy and medications will only go so far.

Muscular Dystrophy will be her cross to bear for the rest of her shortened existence. As it will be Helene’s as her caretaker.

“I’m sorry I haven’t done a better job, but I’m burned out,” Helene rushes to say. “I’m tired, Mom, and I want a break, but there’s no break. There’s only robbing one bill to pay another. On and on. Into eternity. Today I felt alive. And I had to kill something to feel it.”

Her words fracture me, and I step back, hand to my silent chest. She feels aware and vibrant through violence.

I cause violence.

I am, have been, always will be, part of what makes her alive.

Her vulnerability destabilizes me, an insult to the cycle.

I’ve stayed too long.

Oh, the sound of her voice. It plucks the chords of hunger until I’m aching for a taste. Learning about this life, about the struggles carving her into the strong and wounded woman...