They sat in silence and leaned against the furniture behind them as they watched. Waited. Nyx whimpered, her white eyes searching back and forth but never seeing. And then, something dawned on her.
Oh my gods.
Xia sat forward abruptly, breath lodged in her throat. Brooks startled, his body tense and ready to react to whatever threat had forced her into motion.
“What the fu–” he started, but she wasn’t listening.
“Seeing,” she breathed.
“What?” His reply was cautious and lacking the surprise from moments before.
“She’s a seer, Brooks! Phobetor kept a seer in Club Hel. I was roaming the belly of the island one night before– well, it doesn’t matter, but I heard voices and was curious. I watched through the crack as Tor waited for the seer to come back from a vision. He didn’t look like her though.” Xia gestured to Nyx. “He stood the whole time and had this distant, far away look. They’re so rare, Brooks, and as far as I know, the few remaining have little to no chaos. Some don’t even have control over their visions.”
“Why?”
“Zeus. When Tor brought the seer in, I heard him talking through the vent in my bathroom. Zeus had all of the seers imprisoned or killed so that none could be used to usurp him.”
“She just dropped,” he answered, his brows furrowed as he concentrated on Nyx. “She turned from the table to go to bed.”
“She must not be able to control them. To have such a reaction…”
Neither of them knew what it meant. If she were locked in a vision, then they just had to wait it out.
No sooner than the thought crossed Xia’s mind, Nyx sat up in a storm of flailing limbs and panic as she cried in earnest.
Brooks took Nyx in a firm hold, his hands braced on both arms, as he searched her face for recognition. Each time she turned her head or looked away, he followed with murmuring reassurances as her cries echoed through the room.
“Nyx, what happened?” he asked, his grip tightening further.
With no warning, Nyx froze, her body so still Xia feared she’d turn to stone. Her mouth was hanging open with tears drying on her cheeks, but Xia knew that look painted on her frozen face. Nyx was coming down and shuffling through memories. The body always reacted before the mind. Xia had been theremore times than she cared to count after waking up from the nightmares Phobetor induced.
“The invitation,” she whispered.
“Invitation?” Brooks asked.
“The invitation,” Nyx repeated. “I need it. I need the invi–”
“Why do you need–”
“I need the fucking invitation!” Nyx roared.
Brooks sprang back, shock and confusion written in the set of his mouth and dip of his brow. He pulled a thick piece of parchment from his pocket and offered it with a tentative hand. Nyx ripped it from his grasp and stood, her movements rushed and clumsy.
She rummaged through a leather sack on the small kitchen counter throwing its contents until she found what she searched for. Nyx turned and Xia was concerned about the determined gleam in her eye, for in her hand was a dagger.
“Nyx,” Brooks warned, Chaos rising to the surface to meet the threat head on.
Nyx rushed back and dropped to her knees between them, slamming the unfolded parchment on the floor.
She raised the dagger, her movements sure and efficient, and sliced it across her palm. The cut was deep enough to flash tendons before blood pooled in her palm. She smeared her injured hand over the elegant script, wiping once before Brooks grabbed her wrist and yanked it away.
“What the hell are you doing? This is the only lead we have and you’re ruining it!” Chaos harsh tones mingled in his voice.
“Look!” Xia pointed to the smear as her pulse quickened.
Brooks dropped his gaze from Nyx long enough to follow Xia’s finger. His first look was quick, but he did a double take. Xia knew he was seeing what she did when he released Nyx’s arm and squinted at the paper.
Nyx saturated the paper and pulled back. Text that wasn’t visible before appeared in the red stain, and Xia picked the paper up to read it aloud.
