“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. “Iknewit 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 DoctorCimmerianto 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.”
“WhatwasI 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.
