Page 60 of Seer

“Men,” Phoebe scoffs, drawing my attention away from Leah’s hard nipples.

“I’ll get a warm washcloth; you get her a clean shirt,” Kai says with laughter in his voice.

“Um, right.” I clear my throat and do as I’m told.

I take longer than normal to pick out just the right shirt. It needs to be long enough, soft enough, worthy to be on her precious body. I snag an old band shirt and smile.

“I can not believe you still have that only thing.” Kai laughs as I hold it up proudly.

“Tool?” Leah’s voice is a comfort to my ears.

She hasn’t spoken much since waking, and I smile at her.

I nod while Kai cleans her face and chest with the washcloth. He grins, and I know he’s remembering the day just like I am.

“It was our first date. I bought that shirt from a street merchant outside the venue for ten dollars. Then, cause we were broke teenagers, we snuck into the parking lot to listen.” Kai’s voice is full of happiness from the memory.

“Sam spilled that bleach on it, and I burnt it with a joint.” Phoebe points at the imperfection that makes the shirt perfect in my eyes.

“Lift your arms.” I climb on the bed and roll the fabric in my hands to pull it over her hair.

“Careful of her stitches,” Kai says, hovering.

“I got it,” I try to hide my humor at his mother-hen routine.

“I need to add my touch.” Leah fingers the edges of the worn shirt in thought.

“Tomorrow.” I kiss her nose and lie down next to her.

“Rest now. We have plenty of time.” I curl around Leah, who turns to snuggle Phoebe.

“Sleep, I’ll wake you all soon,” Kai says as he takes his seat again.

I fall asleep with my family and the fond memories we’ve all shared. I dream of all the new ones to come.

Chapter

Thirty

LEAH

Halloween

It’s been almost two weeks since the storm. Ten days have passed since Charlotte attacked me. Seven since she was formally charged with attempted murder. Five days ago, Seer announced we’d be hosting the club’s Halloween party now that the city had cleaned up after the storm.

It has been two days since I woke up in bed with three people in it who helped me forget everything that had happened, if only for a few short hours. I squirm as the memories fill my head.

“Lass, if you keep moving, my hand may slip, and you’ll lose an eye.” Skull gives me a pointed look as he pulls the last stitch from my forehead.

The bruising has been wicked.

My face has been a full range of colors that would rival a color wheel. It is a rainbow of purples, blues, and greens that have slowly faded to yellows, which I can conceal with makeup now that the stitches are gone.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“Are you excited for tonight?” He snaps his gloves off and throws them in a waste basket in the corner of the room.

“Very! Will you be in a costume?” I ask as I stand.

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