Once we were out of the room and headed up the stairway to the observatory, Vassago clapped me on the shoulder and flicked the feather in my pocket, a devilish grin on his mouth.
“So, brother, how is it that you never leave the crossroads, but you’ve somehow ended up finding your mate?”
Chapter 20
Phin
“There, maybe now you can take it all in. Breathe a bit.” Grace scuttled around the table, organizing and cleaning the mess and somehow rearranging things so that it looked like a whole new plate of snacks had appeared. “If it’s still too much, just say so, we can give you some space to yourself.”
“We’re a lot.” Greta nodded.
“You’re all so kind.” My throat was very sore from my outburst, and I sagged back against the cushions. So much for a good first impression.
“All the good intentions in the world don’t always negate the fact that there are quite a few of us—and most big personalities as well. I’m sorry if we’ve overwhelmed you,” Calla said.
“I’m fine, really. Tap told me I’d get used to Seir, and I have. I suppose that’s true for more than just him. Seems I’m included in that, actually.” I put my face in my hands. “I can’t believe I spoke to you all like that. I haven’t been myself atalllately. First I drank too much when we visited the glade, and now this. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry yourself one little bit. We can all take a bit of warming up to. Frankly, you seem a delight. I love a woman who isn’t afraid to ask questions straight out like you did.” Grace laughed and took a seat in the chair next to Calla. Greta was on the sofa next to me, though she’d left a generous distance between us on the cushions.
Hailon came over and pulled me into a brief hug, my body lighting up everywhere she touched me. “Please don’t think twice about your visit the other day. You didn’t do anything the rest of us haven’t and you deserved a stiff drink. Besides, I had a similar outburst in this very room not all that long ago. It’s hard to understand why they are the way they are and do the things they do. But trust me, this is all real. Your problems are now their problems. It’s just who they are. And being upset or noisy or even a little combative won’t put them off. Promise. Some of them thrive on it.” One more quick squeeze and she released me, moving off to pour herself a tea.
“Hailon mentioned you needed a tincture?” Greta asked, her eyes flashing with excitement. “She gave me some notes about the other thing, but let’s start with that.” She gestured vaguely to her worktable.
“Yes. Are you the… apothecary?” The word felt wrong, but my thoughts were too heavy to sift through efficiently for the right one.
“Alchemist,” she replied proudly. “What kind of tincture did you need?”
I glanced between the women, realizing that I did honestly feel quite safe with them, newly met or not. I wasn’t sure what to think about that, having been suspicious of just about everyone the majority of my life. I was sure that’s what had pushed me to the outburst, I simply didn’t know what to do with the dissonance I was experiencing. “A suppressant.”
“Okay.” Greta got up and crossed the room, pulling down a couple of oversize books from the shelf behind her workstation. “What are we hoping to keep away? Some kind of rogue power? Magic?”
My ears got hot. “My cycle.”
“Oh,” she said thoughtfully. To my surprise, there was absolutely no judgment in her tone. “Probably this one instead then.” She pulled down a different book and replaced the ones she’d taken before.
“Are you looking to stall fertility?”
“Yes, but it’s more complicated than that,” I said, voice cracking.
Calla rose and took Greta’s place on the sofa, her hand over mine. “You can trust us. I swear it. If you’d like to be alone with Greta, or have us recommend an apothecary in the city instead, that’s fine too.”
“No, no. It’s just…” I swallowed, throat dry as I sorted my words carefully before explaining. “It’s different.” I blushed hot, shame over something that I had absolutely no control over coursing through me. “It’s like… going into heat.”
“That’s fascinating.” Greta watched me with rapt attention, the books forgotten right in front of her. “Horrible, to be certain, but fascinating. Do all Nephilim go through this? I’ve never heard of that before.”
“My mother said that my generation is the first to be this way, and not all of us are. There’s a sickness of some kind, and the population of Heaven is shrinking. She thinks this change is to encourage more angelic pairings. More babies. For some it’s monthly, for others only once a season, but it’s incapacitating.”
“How long does that last?” Calla inquired. “It’s a rather precarious place to be, sounds like. I’m assuming that’s the ovulation period?”
“Yes, the height of fertility. Three days, sometimes four or five.” I could feel the tension and frustration in them on my behalf and needed some space from it. I stood and crossed to where Greta was waiting patiently behind her table and took out the precious little vial. She accepted it with great care, examining the contents with her eyes before sniffing at it.
“Who made this for you last?”
“The apothecary in Aymonroux. They said they couldn’t make it anymore.”
She nodded. “Okay. Do you know the recipe? Or even parts of it?”
I shook my head. “No, we never made it ourselves.”
