“I was hoping you could visit him in his bedchamber today,” she said, pulling her gaze from Sera, “He’s just not up to the stairs. I suppose I should have remembered you were coming when everyone showed up this morning, but we’ve been gathering in his room for so long I forget one day from the next.”
“Of course,” Kieran answered, then he added to Sera, “I won’t be a minute.”
He moved quickly, following just behind Tarina as she led him to her father’s bedchamber. Her father lay in bed, skin ghostly pale. His hair had once been as jet black as his daughter’s, but now silvery gray. The shadow that had started out faint, a distant figure that had slowly grown closer over the years, hovered over the man like a hungry mass, claws and teeth bared to consume.
Normally, this was the part where Kieran turned off his humanity for a few moments, but Sera’s words stuck in his head. His lips parted as he watched the shadow drive ever closer. This man had hours at most. All around him his family waited for Kieran to speak. The last few visits all had been gathered to his side, but they never canceled their appointment, perhaps out of hope that Kieran would tell them he’d be back next week.
Grandchildren scattered on the floor, sending cautious glances at the fading elder in the bed. His children, Tarina’s brother and sister, their eyes darkened by lack of sleep and the ache of loss they knew awaited. Tarina’s husband stared straight ahead. Though this was not his blood relation, the weight of the loss was clear in the serious lines of his face.
Kieran’s heart started to stutter, his breathing becoming labored. He had once looked like this, felt this, as he watched his siblings succumb to illness that he could not see would be lethal until it was.
“Kieran?” Tarina prompted, stepping closer. “Is it—oh gods,” her voice broke as she spoke, a sob quickly became hysterics. “It’s close, isn’t it?”
Kieran nodded, not speaking.
Tarina’s husband was at her side without Kieran realizing he had moved, holding his wife as she curled into him and cried. Kieran retreated as the family gathered for what would be their patriarch’s final hours.
He didn’t run, but his movements were quick, purposeful as he motioned for Sera to follow. They returned to the wintry morning and Kieran stepped out of the visible path, hidden behind a wall of spruce that lined the estate.
And then he clawed at his face.
“What happened?” Sera asked, a note of urgency in her voice.
Fingers scraping hard over his skin, he paced. “It was as expected, the shadow had moved to strike, his death isimminent.” Kieran’s steps grew heavy, his boots kicking at the ground as much as walking. The words came fast and frantic. “Normally, I am able to distance myself from my work. Detach from the present situation and do what is needed.”
Pulling his hands to his side, his clawing fingers curled into fists. He closed his eyes, lifting his head toward the sky as his breathing grew quick and agitated. “Today, however, I was ten years old and my younger siblings’ illness had turned for the worst. I heard my mother’s screams from Jerica’s room, my father’s cries from Kaul’s. That family inside looked to me for answers as Death clawed into their father’s body, just like my parents looked at me.” He brushed back his hair, some strands slipping to fall over his forehead. “Why didn’t I see it? Why couldn’t I Sense their deaths? I could have altered the diagnosis. I had caught the disease in time for every other child with Red Fever that summer. I saved the lives of countless children. If treated before the onset of symptoms, it’s not fatal. The doctor would have had time, but I just couldn’t see it.”
His voice was rising, reaching a shout. He didn’t care. The words just kept coming. Kept falling from his mouth without filter. “I lost my family that day. My parents were alive, but they shut down. Shut me out. Let me blame myself for a death I had no fucking power to prevent. Because this godsdamn power doesn’t work on those I care about. Poetic. I lose my Sense the momentIneed it. Because fuck me and what I want. If I am going to be cursed with this fucking power, why does it not work when I fucking need it to?”
He had shouted the last part, yelling at the unfairness of it as he dropped to the ground and lay back in the snow. The cold engulfed his body, soothing his heated ranting. Eyes closed, his calm returned, regaining composure. He was unsettled and he would only feel himself if he could once again detach from the moment.
“Hey!” Sera dropped to her knees next to him, dragging him up by the lapels. She forced him to meet her eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut down. You were feeling something just now. You’re supposed to feel things. Losing your family horrible. It’s supposed to feel shitty. You have the right to feel shitty.”
He stared through her, determined to ignore her words until her last sentence sparked acknowledgment. He did not have the right to feel. That was the problem. He had too many other things to do, people who needed him.
Care for no one. But take care of everyone.
If he cared for no one, then he wouldn’t be hurt again.
If he took care of everyone then maybe it would be enough to fix what he missed.
Unless, Sera was right.
Was she right?
“Kieran?” she asked, still trying to meet his eyes.
He set his hand over hers, sensing her relax instantly against him. He wanted to linger there, in the warmth of her touch. Linger here, with her, where he was allowed to feel like shit and where he didn’t need the mask of perfection to feel content.
He eased her hands away, still holding them, his fingers rubbing over her skin like it was the first time. Like he had never felt something as soothing as Sera’s hands.
“I can see your point,” he offered, his lips quirking at her sudden intake of breath. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it wasn’t nothing either.
“Good. Cause this whole thing you have, is shit, okay? You can’t keep living for everyone else, torturing yourself with all this guilt that isn’t even supposed to be yours. You want guilt? I left my mother to die. Yeah, she was a monster who never wanted me or my brother, but I still hear her begging me and Gideon to help her.” She flinched, pausing briefly to swallow down whatever emotion she’d just exposed in herself.
“Dead mother not enough?” She pressed, fully entrenched in a tirade of her own. “How about the stealing? The lying? The tricks and manipulations to get what I wanted? Sure, I tell myself it’s all for survival. But I know there are other ways. There were always other ways. I didn’t have to let my shit mother win. Gideon didn’t let her win. He has a career. A life. He’s not running from death threats cause the last fling decided to be a psycho who collects sex slaves like stamps then tries to kill you.
“What do I have to feel good about? I thought I would have a chance with Seth, to finally be useful to someone, and he’s about to leave me, too. But you? You help people. Even with that trauma, you’re the most genuinely kind person I’ve ever met. You are entirely selfless. Gods, and to think that you’reso fucking hardon yourself when you’re probably the best person in existence is just… it’s… blasphemy!”
