much she’d wanted to deny it and believe it wasn’t true. So Dani hid her frustration and came home to help her parents take care of her as often as possible.
“It’s important,” Gwen insisted, not looking up.
“I’m sure it is. I brought the stuff for a bath. Maybe we could do your hair tonight.” Dani touched her sister’s stiffened, close-cropped strands. The darkness of her hair only emphasized the chalky pallor of Gwen’s skin. Blue veins traced a net, as if trapping her determined spirit inside her fragile body.
“Not many pleasant images. Always remember the dark times best. Want to show me witches burning or battlefields. Sometimes it’s like I’m drowning in blood.” Gwen’s voice choked at the end and her bony fingers closed around her throat.
Dani caught her sister’s hand in her own, hoping to distract her from the visions and voices that tormented her. “Not today. Not here.”
“No. Not here.” A small mercy, given the amount of effort they’d put into creating this one safe haven. Gwen stared at the closed door, her huge eyes even wider in fear. “Out there, they scream and beg. All of them lining up and shoving to get inside—”
“They can’t get in, Gwen. Not in here. I brought some food, too. Mom says you’re not eating.” She showed Gwen the plate of fruit and gently steaming muffins.
Gwen’s face lit up in a childlike, beaming smile, brightening her bruised eyes. “For me?”
“Come on, wash your hands and I’ll do your hair while you eat.”
Gwen spread her thin fingers decorated with charcoal smudges. “Sometimes I can’t tell if it’s dirt or shadow. Is it still winter?”
“It’s spring now. The birds are building nests and there are flowers by the side of the road.” Dani dipped a cloth in water and began to wipe down Gwen’s fingers. “Soon it’ll be summer, and the sun will blaze hot in the sky, and the kids will play in their swimming pools. The ice cream truck will drive through the streets.”
“Ice cream. I’d forgotten about ice cream. Do you think you can bring me some?”
“Absolutely. But for now, these are still nice and warm.” Dani broke off a piece of muffin and put it in her sister’s cool hand. It was always chill and clammy in here, no matter how they tried to heat it.
“It’s so easy to lose track of time.” Gwen bit down on the soft pastry. “I forget so many things. That’s why I have to tell you. When the patchwork cat stares at Diana’s moon, you have to find the shadow that doesn’t belong. It’s important. I put it down for you.”
Dani froze in the middle of pouring warm water into a bowl, breathing harshly. Gwen’s mind was constantly distracted and scattered. For this one message to stick long enough to be communicated meant that it was important to her. But that didn’t mean Dani was going to be in any position to do anything about it. She finished pouring the water and brought the bowl to her sister’s side.
“Cat. Moon. Shadow. Got it. Now eat.” Dani took a sponge and began to work water through her sister’s grimy hair.
Gwen continued to pick at the muffin on the plate. “There are so many stars. We don’t even know all their names. We don’t notice when one goes missing.” She stared up at the uneven stone ceiling as Dani carefully washed her hair. “The storm is coming, blotting them out one by one. But we can’t see because we don’t know their names. The darkness will swallow us all, because we’ve abandoned the gods. Crumbling clay swept up in the trash.”
Gwen’s ramblings were filled with more cryptic hints over the last year. No one was sure if she was developing a true predictive gift or simply repeating what she’d been told. This latest exhortation sparked shame and defiance in Dani. If she’d followed family tradition and sacrificed herself to the Huntress, Dani would have become a conduit to the gods, receiving proper divine warnings for the entire lalassu people. But