Page 83 of Of Flame and Fate

Emme stands at the foot of Destiny’s bed, her arms filled with fresh linens and her eyes swimming with tears. “I set up a shower chair, will you help me?”

“Anything you want, Emme,” I reply. “Just let me know what she needs.”

She places the fresh sheets and blankets on the bar and hurries into the bathroom. There’s not a lot of space in there, just a standing shower, a small sink, and toilet. But it’s enough.

I reach Destiny and pull back the sheets. She doesn’t move and I’m worried she’s asleep until her lids flutter. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” I ask, concerned that the exertion maybe too much.

“I want to look nice . . .” she croaks. “For Tye.”

Of course she does, he’s been her one true friend, and will be her forever mate.

I try to smile, but there’s that awful ache again, casting a sting along my eyes. “Let’s help you out of your clothes, all right? We’ll change your bed and give you something fun to wear.”

“Taran,” she says, her voice excruciatingly feeble. “I can’t see anymore.”

I cover my mouth as a strange film sweeps across her once bright irises. “You’re blind?”

“No.” The skin along her neck pulls as if she’s trying to swallow, but isn’t quite able to. “My visions are gone. I can’t bring one up . . . I’ve tried . . . I need to see . . . need to warn you.”

“Warn us about what?” I ask.

“About the babies.” Each syllable she manages is sluggish, making her hard to understand.

I lean in close, trying to hear her and understand, too. “The babies?” I repeat. My stomach churns. I think I know where she’s going. “Celia’s babies?”

I jerk up when she coughs, worried she’s choking only to find her laughing, or at least trying to laugh. “No, Taran. Your babies. Yours and Gemini’s.”

I stop moving.

The small amount of humor she manages dwindles, leaving only a barely there grin. “You and your sisters have always been special. It’s only fitting your children will be special, too.”

She’s delirious. She must mean Shayna and Koda’s kids, maybe Emme’s too —

“Don’t fight what’s coming,” she says in her same dull and listless tone. “You’ve always stood by Celia, and when it’s time for her children to meet their fate, your sons and daughters will stand by them, too.”

This time, I’m the one struggling to speak. “Are they going to be all right?” I stammer. “All of them?”

There’s no hesitation, despite her slow speech. “No.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” I ask. She doesn’t answer, that odd film in her eyes obscuring them further.

“Destiny,” I say, my voice growing louder. “Tell mewhat’s going to happen to our children.”

“I don’t know,” she says, trembling. “Their destiny dies with me . . . and their fate belongs to Johnny.”

Her last words drain her and she falls asleep. I look to where Emme stands with her mouth covered. “She has to mean your children, and Shayna’s.”

I shake my head slowly, silencing her. “No, she meant yours, too.”

Our attention returns to Destiny, waiting for her to tell us more. When she does nothing more than breathe in that same shallow way, I adjust the blankets around her, trying to keep her warm.

“Don’t,” she says, her eyes remaining closed. “I want to look pretty.” Her lids lift. “Will you help me look pretty?”

Tears blur my vision. “Whatever you want, Destiny.”

We take our time. I wash her hair as Emme cleans her body. I know that as a hospice nurse, Emme has cared for the dying, and bathed those who’ve passed so they looked presentable for their families. I just don’t knowhowshe’s done it.

Emme wraps Destiny in the bath towels she ran through the dryer. “I don’t want her to get cold,” she says, hurrying to dry her legs.

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