“You’re strong,” I told her. I didn’t need to remember everything about the past. This feeling wasn’t wrong. “And resilient.”
It was true. Despite everything that had happened to her in life, she was stillrelativelynormal. Yes, she had her quirks, and there was definitely some damage, but she pressed forward even through her discomfort.
Now knowing her background, it was shocking she’d taken the initiative to seek out Damen. Especially considering she’d have to venture out alone. In her position, I would have probably ignored my duties and locked myself away.
But despite her fears, she had done what she felt was right. And while there had been setbacks, that was understandable.
The most important thing was that she’d continue to grow.
“You’re kind.” I twisted my fingers through her hair, loose locks tickling my cheek. “When you brought flowers for Kathleen, you stayed even though it made you uncomfortable. You’ve always been caring, it’s part of your nature.”
“Stop saying that.” She pressed her nose against my shirt. “There’s something wrong with me. I’m not a nice person.”
“Yes, you are.” Why couldn’t she see herself the way I saw her? “I told you before. You were always the one who cared the most about humans—”
“That’s the thing,” she interrupted, her voice breathy and rushed. “I was upset that Kathleen died, but I wasn’tsad.”
I blinked, unable to respond to this strange admission. It wasn’t until she began to shiver that I finally asked, “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t feel real. I kept expecting her to show up,” she rambled in a breath. “She even told me Iwillsee her again. Yes, it’s sad that she isn’t alive anymore, but it’s not like she’s gone forever. So, I’m not really that upset about the fact she’s dead. Am I a bad person?”
“What?” I pushed her shoulders back, urging her face to lift toward mine. “No, of course not.” My heartbeat echoed in my ears. We’d become so familiar already that, sometimes, it was so easy to forget that Bianca had no idea how to use her own abilities.
I couldn’t mess this up. The damage could be irreparable.
“That’s normal…” I began, because it really was normal for those who saw spirits to never grieve the way others did. “You’re a medium.” My mind raced, searching for the words to explain. “People who see ghosts process death differently; grief generally doesn’t hit a medium until the spirit has moved on.”
Her eyes had cleared slightly, and my thundering heart calmed. I was getting through.
But, an example? She’d brought him up earlier—so perhaps this would help.
“Caleb is dead, but you still interact with him. Once he moves on, you’ll probably miss him. And Lily—you were sad when she left, right?”
Bianca’s watery gaze held mine a moment longer before her expression crumbled, and she nodded.
“Had you ever been to a funeral before?” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought to ask, but she had watched with fascinated curiosity while I’d worked. “You’re eighteen, but—”
“No,” she answered, cutting me off with a shake of her head. “And I’m not eighteen. My birthday was two weeks ago.”
My mouth twisted as confusion and a sense of foreboding filled me.
“Two weeks ago?” I asked, hoping I was wrong. I couldn’t have been that stupid.
She nodded and my breath caught.
The papers had been right in front of me while I’d worked to make Bryce’s and Bianca’s marriage official, and I hadn’t even thought to take note of it.
“Bianca,whenis your birthday?”
“October thirteenth,” she answered instantly, cocking her head as her eyes cleared. “I was born on a Friday. I’m cursed.”
I pinched my nose, self-loathing washing over me. “They even kept your birthday the same.” At her questioning look, I clarified. “Friday the thirteen is an auspicious day—”
“I think you’re mistaken,” she interrupted, raising her eyebrow.
“I’m not.” I pressed my finger to her lips, cutting off her protests. I wasn’t about to let her lecture me on my own craft. “It’s the Goddesses’ day, or, if you don’t believe in that, the day of the divine feminine. The number thirteen is extremely powerful in numerology.”
She tilted her head, large eyes blinking up at me. “Like how?”