Chapter 8 Lit With Wonder #2
“Don’t,” I warned him sharply. “Not here. Not now. And yes. She saw you using highlighters and sticky notes with your textbooks and thought she’d like to do the same.”
“Highlight grimoires from antiquity? Sticky note illuminated manuscripts from the Middle Ages?” He gaped at me with a flare of panic in his green eyes.
“Relax, Cas. She asked for a new notebook and writing utensils, not implements of literary destruction. She thought maybe some colorful pens might brighten up her work, encourage her, keep her trying.”
“Oh. Oh.” He rubbed his chest with his hand, relief flashing across his face. “Okay. Let’s get her that.”
“Already did. Ordered a stationary kit and some other supplies online. Be here tomorrow.”
“Good job, Ko.”
I rolled my eyes as he patted my shoulder.
“Here, Prince Koa.”
Addison handed me an enormous quilted blanket before going back to help Mrs. Wentzel pack a wicker hamper, the kind you see in movies about rich people. She worked with brisk efficiency, adding a variety of containers and finishing up with thermoses of what smelled like spiced cider.
“Plates,” she muttered, more to herself than to us. “Utensils. Proper napkins, not those paper things.”
I watched, slightly bemused, as our simple picnic became an event worthy of a food magazine spread.
“This is a lot. I was just going to grab something quick.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Prince Koa. That girl deserves a proper meal, not whatever you would cobble together. Chips and pretzels and soda, no doubt.” She handed Addison a stack of linen napkins to add to the basket. “Besides, it’s a picnic. It should be special.”
Looking at the care she was putting into this impromptu lunch, I felt a strange tightness in my chest. How far we’d come from the days of scarfing pizza from cardboard boxes, wiping greasy hands on our tactical pants between missions.
And maybe that was the point.
#
The forest path unwound before us like a ribbon of crushed gray stone, cutting through the towering maples and oaks.
April sunlight filtered through the new leaves overhead that shifted with every breeze.
Beside me, Seri walked with her head tilted back, her fingers occasionally brushing against the rough bark of a tree trunk as we passed.
Brumous trotted ahead, nose to the ground, his charcoal gray fur almost disappearing into the shadows when he veered off the path.
I carried the picnic basket, which weighed roughly the same as a small car. Zane walked a few paces behind us, hands shoved in his pockets, while Casimir led the way, alert, but his posture relaxed. To anyone else, we might have looked like any group enjoying a spring walk in the woods.
Cas caught my eye over Seri’s head, his gaze questioning. I knew what he was asking. The same thing I’d been turning over in my mind since we set out.
Should we tell her about The Withering Veil? What it actually did?
Glancing back at Zane, I saw his eyebrows lift. Your call, he was saying, which wasn’t fair, because this wasn’t just my decision. Anything that affected her affected us all.
On one hand, it was her right. If our positions were reversed, I’d want to know what kind of curse had almost hit me. Knowledge was power, and keeping Seri in ignorance, even to protect her, felt too much like what Arabesque had done.
On the other hand, she’d already had two panic attacks today.
The first when she thought we were going to send her away, and the second when Arabesque appeared on my laptop screen.
Her wounds were still so raw, her nervous system still primed for threats.
Would knowing the specifics of the curse help her, or just give her new fears to struggle with?
“You’re thinking too loudly.” Seri bumped her shoulder against my arm. “What’s wrong?”
I hesitated, shifting the heavy basket to my other hand.
“It’s about the curse,” she guessed. Of course she did. “The one the hawk was carrying.”
Ahead of us, Cas slowed his pace. Zane moved closer. I felt caught in a silent tug-of-war between honesty and protection.
“Yes,” I admitted. “We’re not sure if we should tell you what it does.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” She tilted her head.
“Because it’s nasty,” Zane said. “And you’ve had enough nasty for one day.”
“Would knowing help me somehow?” She considered this, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “Protect me?”
“Not directly, no.” Cas turned, walking backward for a few steps. “We’ve already dealt with it.”
“You’re worried it will upset me.”
“We don’t want to trigger a third panic attack,” I said.
We walked in silence for a moment, the only sounds our footsteps on the gravel and Brumous snuffling at something in the underbrush. A woodpecker hammered somewhere in the distance, the sound echoing among the trees.
“I appreciate your concern,” Seri finally said, “but I’m stronger than I look.”
“We know that,” Cas replied instantly.
“No one’s questioning your strength, Seri,” I added, but before I could continue, foot-in-mouth Zane blurted it all out in one breath.
“It makes you invisible. Not just invisible, but forgotten. It erases you bit by bit until no one remembers you even existed.”
“Zane!” Cas snapped, and I nearly dropped the picnic basket in shock.
Seri didn’t crumple, didn’t start shaking or gasping for breath. Instead, she stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face Zane, her hands on her hips.
“I knew it!” she exclaimed, eyes flashing. “I knew it had to be something like that!”
We all froze, staring at her.
“What?” Zane managed.
“The name alone tells you it’s about fading or disappearing,” she said, as if explaining something obvious. “And ‘veil’ clearly suggests concealment or separation.” She frowned at our dumbfounded expressions. “Did you think I couldn’t figure it out?”
I opened and closed my mouth, at a loss for words.
“I may not know much about monster hunting,” she continued, her voice gaining heat, “but I know magic. I was raised by a witch, remember? Before Arabesque, my father taught me about magical theory and classification.”
Zane recovered first, a grin spreading across his face.
“Well, excuse me, Doctor Bell.”
“That’s Doctor Cimmerian to you,” she retorted, but a smile tugged at her lips. Then she jabbed a finger at his chest. “And don’t think I didn’t notice what you were doing.”
“What was I doing?” His face was the picture of innocence, if innocence had messy red hair and a glitter of mischief in its eyes.
“You were protecting me by being impulsive, so they wouldn’t have to make the decision.” She narrowed her eyes. “You thought if you just blurted it out, you’d take the blame if I fell apart.”
Zane’s smirk faltered and, for once, he seemed at a loss.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” she pressed. Zane narrowed his eyes at her, and she crossed her arms. “Well, I don’t appreciate being manipulated. By any of you. If there’s something I should know, just tell me. I’d rather face the truth than be coddled.”
“Noted.” Cas let out a quiet laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” Warmth that transformed his stern face. “Scolding us like we’re children who broke a vase.”
“Am I?” Her indignation melted into embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, you’re right.” I set down the basket to take her hand. “We should have asked what you wanted instead of deciding for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Seri knows best,” Zane drawled, hooking his arm around her shoulders. “But in my defense, my method was way more efficient than their careful deliberation.”
“Your method nearly gave me a heart attack,” Cas muttered.
“But it worked,” Zane pointed out. “No panic attack. No tears. Just our wife putting us in our place.” He winked at Seri. “Which, for the record, is incredibly hot, you feisty ass woman.”
“Zoodle!” she gasped.
“What? It is. Right, Koa?”
“He’s not wrong.”
Her pink cheeks made something warm unfurl in my chest. The slightest compliment, the merest hint of desire, and she blushed. It was endearing and heartbreaking all at once.
“So,” she cleared her throat and changed the subject, “the curse makes people forget me?”
“It’s a creeping effect. It starts subtly. Your reflection would waver, shadows would cling to you too long. Then, gradually, people would stop noticing you. First strangers, then acquaintances. Eventually…” I couldn’t finish the thought.
“Even you three would forget me,” she said what I couldn’t.
“Never completely,” Cas disagreed. “The beloved and mate bonds would fight it, but it would be like trying to remember a dream that keeps slipping away.”
She shuddered and her fingers tightened around mine, then she nodded once, decisively.
“Good. Thank you for telling me.” She picked up the handle of the picnic basket I’d set down. “Now, can we continue our walk? I’m getting hungry.”
Just like that, she moved past it. Not ignoring the danger, but refusing to let it steal this moment from her.
From us. Our wife, who’d endured years of abuse and isolation, who’d been siphoned of magic and starved of affection, had more strength in her little finger than most people had in their entire bodies.
Ahead of us, she paused to let a butterfly land on her outstretched finger, her face lit with wonder. The basket hung from her other hand, far too heavy for her, but she hadn’t complained once. Brumous circled her feet, his tail wagging furiously at her delight.
I found myself smiling, the weight of worry lifting from my shoulders.
We’d navigated potentially treacherous emotional waters and emerged unscathed.
No panic attacks. No tears. Just our remarkable wife, teaching us once again that her fragility was an illusion. Like many things in her life had been.
As we continued along the path, the trees began to thin, hinting at an opening ahead. The garden Mrs. Wentzel had mentioned must be close. I hurried to catch up with Seri and reclaimed the picnic basket.
“Let me, beloved. Save your strength for exploring.”
She didn’t protest, only slipped her hand into my free one.
“Koko? Thank you for worrying about me.” Her gray eyes held mine. “But I need you to trust me to handle things, too.”
“I’m learning to do that.” I squeezed her hand and, behind us, Zane made gagging noises.
“If you two get any sweeter, I’m going to need insulin.”
Casimir smacked the back of his head as he passed, earning an indignant, “Hey!” that echoed through the trees.