Page 83 of Veil of Blood and Bone

I’m flabbergasted my cell isn’t ringing off the hook.

The town has surely seen what happened to the bookstore by this point. It’s well past dinnertime. So why isn’t Barnes calling me and screeching out a demand for an explanation?

Wren and Nicholas wait, unease spreading like cancer, until I’ve gotten myself under control. And when I look up, Forest stands in the short throat of hallway between the living room and the front door.

Shame darkens his blue eyes. “I need to go. There’s something I have to retrieve.”

He hikes a thumb over his shoulder. I push up, only for Nicholas to push me back down.

“Do you trust yourself to wander the streets, bird brain?” Wren chuckles.

“Tend to your battles, and I’ll handle mine.” Lifeless in the gloom, Forest storms to the door.

It shuts softly behind him.

My heart gives a hollow thud. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s fine. It always takes him a bit to grapple with the memories when they come. And we never know which ones are going to hit him first,” Wren says.

I drag air into my shrunken lungs like I’ve broken the surface after diving too deep. There’s a measure of relief in it, but there are still too many variables loose and swinging for said relief to land.

“Memories?” I ask. “Does he not know who he is? Like some kind of amnesia?”

Didn’t Audra say something about a memory keeper?

“I’ll head out, as well.” Nicholas finally pulls his hand free.

I reach for the touch, missing it instantly, and in the space between confusion and longing I still have no room to understand why.

Wren looks up, his arms resting across his chest, and asks, “Off to make sure Birdie doesn’t hurt himself?”

“To ensure nothing else is creeping.” Nicholas slips out, soundless, solemn. “To see if this has happened before.”

Their departure doesn’t help the apartment breathe again. And why is Wren the one who stayed?

At least I’m not watching Audra alone.

Wren, like he senses my gratitude, makes a low noise in his throat. He steps to the edge of my vision, and his shadows thrust my now lukewarm coffee into my hands. “If you want something to hold.”

“What did he mean, to see if this has happened before? If what’s happened before?”

“The Norns speaking through a Seer. I’m sure it has. Although normally when those three broads make an appearance, they do it themselves. They relish showmanship. They rarely have a need for a mouthpiece.”

He nods toward Audra, and I glance at her, still a little surprised she's still asleep.

“My sister isn’t a mouthpiece. Don’t call her that.”

“If it makes you feel better.”

“It does.”

“You want answers. I’m doing my best to provide them for you. Keep an open mind. You’re not crazy, love.”

Metal screeches against the floor. Wren doesn’t move, but the chair from the kitchen is. It drags closer, over the uneven threshold, and he stands, moves, settles on the seat. Considering me.

The air around the back, around his legs, is cast in gloom, a storm inside the apartment, shadowy forms twisting like blackened knots on a burned tree.

I hadn’t noticed their shape before but from here, their designs are obvious. “Those belong to you?”