Chapter 21 #3
I sighed. She was taking care of me again. And yes, while I definitely would have tripped and fallen on my face, I hated that I must seem so helpless next to her.
Maybe this was why she didn’t trust me. I didn’t blame her.
“How well did you know her?” Bianca asked as her attention returned to her invisible path.
I was struck dumb for a moment. “Huh?”
“Kathleen,” she asked. “You seemed to have had a good relationship, but she didn’t know you lived in France.”
“Well,” I said, my focus turning to the ground. Not that I could see much, but it was easier to let Bianca completely take the lead. At least she wouldn’t let me walk face-first into a tree.
I hoped.
“My dad was a witch, while my mother has no magical abilities,” I continued.
“He was studying in France and met my mother at a church. My maternal family have maintained the grounds there for generations. I don’t know much about my father’s line—they disapproved of their relationship, and there aren’t a lot of them anyway. ”
“Oh,” Bianca replied. “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter—I never met them,” I reassured her. “My father brought me here for a while, and I studied with Kathleen. He and I traveled back and forth for a few years, but my dad died, and I went back to France to support my mother.”
“Support?” Bianca asked, and I could feel her curious gaze on me. “When was this? How old were you?”
“Ah—” I shook my head. I knew exactly where her thoughts had gone. “Not financially. They have their own ‘legacy’ and titles. They don’t want my money. My mother is sick, and they needed me.”
“Sick?”
“Um—” I flushed, looking at the dark ground. “Mentally.”
There was a short silence before Bianca replied, “Oh.”
“She’s managing better now.” I shrugged. “Colette took charge of things when my grandparents couldn’t. I stayed there for three years. I would have moved there…” My voice trailed off as the figures ran through my head. “Well, I moved there about the same time you were adopted.”
My heart sank. I wasn’t here to help Julian. And, even if they had brought Bianca to us, I wouldn’t have been here either.
“Anyway,” I continued, shaking my head. I had no choice but to figure it out. “Kathleen became like a grandmother to me when I was here.”
“That must have been nice.” Her voice was so low I almost missed it, and a pang shot through my chest. Kathleen had been Bianca’s grandmother too—at least legally—and she had never even been given the chance to know her.
“Kathleen made amazing chocolate chip cookies,” I offered. “I made them for you before. We can make them together next time. I know you’d be good at it.”
“Um…” she began, and stopped walking. Her fingers were trembling over mine, and I looked at her. “Can I ask you something?”
I lifted my brow even though she wasn’t looking. Her focus, instead, was trained to the forest floor. “Yeah?”
“Why does everyone keep saying this stuff?” she asked. “You knew exactly what I was going to do with the flowers. You said I was ‘tenderhearted.’ ”
“Yeah…” I began, unsure. How could you explain something that was instinct? I might not remember all the details, but some things were familiar. And this was our standard, our pattern.
“I don’t remember,” she admitted.
“Well,” I shrugged. I didn’t recall much either, but sometimes—when you got used to it—it was something you just knew.
It was the same way I knew she was scary and could be evil. But then there was the softer side of her, a sense of gentleness and humanity, that made the rest of us want to keep her safe.
“It’s obvious.” My words sounded weak.
“Can you stop saying that t-too?” Her question broke on the last word. She let go of my hand and turned to me as she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.
“Why?” I asked. This was who we were.
“We’re not the same,” she said.
“We’ve been over this before,” I reasoned as my stomach twisted. “You know that’s not true.”
“I—” she began, biting her lip. “I’m not.”
What was she talking about?
I set the lantern on the ground and pulled her to me until she was pressed against my chest. She didn’t push back but raised her hands between us.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“He’s—” Her hands were shaking as she twisted them in my shirt. “He’s so much s-stronger than me. I can’t…”
“What are you talking about?” I asked her, holding her to me. “You already are,” I said, breathing her in. My chest grew tight. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’re Mu, ” I emphasized.
“Mu…” Her voice had lost its sharp edge, her shaking stilling, almost as if my words stirred a memory.
“You’re strong,” I told her. “And resilient. I’ve never known anyone braver.”
It was true. Despite everything, she was still relatively normal. Yes, she had her quirks, and there was some damage, but she pressed forward despite her discomfort.
“You’re kind.” I twisted my fingers through her hair, loose locks tickling my cheek. “When you brought flowers for Kathleen, you stayed even though it made you uncomfortable. You’ve always been caring. It’s part of your nature.”
“Stop saying that.” She pressed her nose against my shirt. “I’m not a nice person.”
“Yes, you are.” Why couldn’t she see herself the way I saw her? “I told you before. You were always the one who cared the most about humans—”
“That’s the thing,” she interrupted, her voice breathy and rushed. “I was upset that Kathleen died, but I wasn’t sad .”
I blinked, and it wasn’t until she began to shiver that I finally asked, “What do you mean?”
“I kept expecting her to show up,” she rambled in a breath. “Yes, it’s sad that she isn’t alive anymore, but it’s not like she’s gone forever. So, I’m not that upset about the fact she’s dead.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” I pushed her shoulders back, urging her face to lift toward mine. My heartbeat echoed in my ears. We’d become so familiar already that, sometimes, it was so easy to forget that Bianca had no idea how to use her abilities.
I couldn’t mess this up. The damage could be irreparable.
“That’s normal for fae…” I began. “You’re a medium.” My mind raced, searching for the words to explain. “People who see ghosts process death differently; grief generally doesn’t hit a medium until the spirit has moved on.”
Her eyes had cleared slightly, and my thundering heart calmed. I was getting through.
But, an example? She’d brought him up earlier—so perhaps this would help.
“Caleb is dead, but you still interact with him, and he annoys you. Once he moves on, you’ll probably miss him.”
Bianca’s expression twisted before, finally, she nodded.
“Have you ever been to a funeral before?” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought to ask, but she had watched with fascinated curiosity while I’d worked. “You’re eighteen, but—”
“No,” she answered, cutting me off with a shake. “And I’m not eighteen anymore. My birthday was two weeks ago.”
A sense of foreboding filled me.
“Two weeks ago?” I asked, hoping I was wrong. I couldn’t have been that stupid.
She nodded, and my breath caught.
I’d had the papers right in front of me, and I hadn’t even noticed.
“Bianca, when is your birthday?”
“October thirteenth,” she answered instantly, cocking her head as her eyes cleared. “I was born on a Friday. I’m cursed.”
I pinched my nose, self-loathing washing over me. “They even kept your birthday the same.” At her questioning look, I clarified, “Friday the thirteenth is an auspicious day—”
“I think you’re mistaken,” she interrupted, raising her eyebrow.
“I’m not.” I pressed my finger to her lips, cutting off her protests. “It’s the Goddesses’ day, or, if you don’t believe in that, the day of the divine feminine. The number thirteen is extremely powerful.”
She tilted her head, large eyes blinking up at me. “Like how?”
“Thirteen is the number of death, rebirth, creation, and creativity,” I answered. “I am so sorry that I missed your birthday. Did they do anything to celebrate after I left?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
I clutched at my chest. “Are you serious?”
“It’s not like I told them.” She looked curious, unaffected by the plummeting temperature and cool breeze. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”
What in the world was wrong with this girl?
“Although Finn made me a cake and gave me a present.” She pursed her lips, eyes darkening as she was pulled deep into a memory. “I’m not sure why. I thought he’d be eviler now.”
Finn !
Red flared across my vision, and my fingers clenched.
I was going to kill that fucker. He knew it was her birthday and he hadn’t told anyone! The ass was trying to make us all look bad!
“Why are you so angry?” Bianca frowned, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
“Never mind…” I wasn’t annoyed with her, but… stupid Finn. He could have at least warned us. But Damen should have known—what was he thinking? How would we ever be able to make up for this.