Nineteen

Rubbing her wrists, Grace watched nervously as the two men looked over Genevieve. “I told you, she has a seizure disorder.”

If she hadn’t been handcuffed to the woman on the fourwheeler when the spasms had struck… She shuddered. The men were ignoring her. 

“I can’t feel anything from her. You said the Bathim claimed she had health problems?”

“The wolves might have triggered something, a Sibyl isn’t supposed to be mated. Every Sibyl in our family has been a virgin for her entire life.”

“Trust a pack of filthy dogs to ruin a Sibyl. Where is the Servant?”

“With the wolves. They felt he was too dangerous to bring with them so they took an,” Fitz gestured dismissively in Grace’s direction, “ordinary to look after her.”

“Well…” The other man looked her over speculatively before giving her a warm smile. “What do you know about the Sibyl?”

“I…” Grace took a deep breath feeling suddenly calm and wanting to answer, “I don’t know what a Sibyl is, but her name is Genevieve. She’s a twin and she’s freakishly close to her brother, poke one and the other bleeds, close. They told us she has a seizure disorder and some other health problems, and her brother and husband worry about her health a lot. It’s why they want her to stop working with stained glass and why we were brought to see if they wanted to hire us in the shop.

“She said she hates to be idle and she wanted to go work for her friend at his shop and she was fussed at because she needs to rest more.”

“The Bathim might have saved you from being turned into a monster.” The man glanced at Fitz, “Anything else?”

“I remember hearing about her in college. Some students went out for a photo shoot. She was abducted as a baby and only found her way back as an adult. Her father owned a vineyard-”

“We’ve heard about the Mesny family’s problems. We didn’t realize he was hunting for an actual Sibyl all those years. You don’t name a Sibyl ‘Sybil’, but… 

“He was smart to give her a public name and a true name.” Fitz folded his arms frowning at the unconscious woman. “What can we do about her condition?”

“If she does have health problems, stress is probably aggravating them. A car wreck wouldn’t have been good for her either. I’d suggest we load them up and take them to a secure location. Put her on an IV drip for fluids, give her a little Xanax, and hope for the best. Keep the ordinary on hand as a judas goat to help her stay calm. Ordinaries are malleable enough to be useful.”

“We’ll do it your way. Go get what we need and I’ll wait here with them.”

“I’ll be back.” He glanced at Grace and gave her another warm smile, “Go get a shower and then find a way to clean up the Sibyl.”

She was in the bathroom turning the water on before she realized it. Shuddering as she stepped under the warm water, Grace tried to process what was happening. Genevieve had said something about witches. With all of this insanity witches didn’t seem out of place and she needed to keep her wits together. Accept it and roll with the punches, right? 

So. Witches. Witches that can make people do things. Stone creatures that can move around and repeat things. She tried not to break into hysterical laughter. They’d talked about wolves, they probably meant werewolves. That was a step too far. Grace turned her face up into the warm spray and sighed, rinsing shampoo out of her hair. 

It would be easiest to rinse out the tub and wash Genevieve that way. She’d need Fitz to carry her there. When the woman woke, she’d try to ask what a Sibyl was. The only thing she could think of was the Cumaean Sibyl who’d spurned Apollo and that couldn’t be right. A prophetess… She shook off the thoughts and rinsed the soap off of her skin before climbing out. 

Drying off, she noticed a robe hung on the back of the door and slipped it on before rinsing out the tub. It would work well enough. She left the water running. Grace stepped out and saw Fitz sitting on the bed next to Genevieve looking at her oddly and stroking the woman’s hair.

“Hey, Fitz?” 

He looked over with a frown. “What?”

“If you can carry her to the tub…” 

Fitz tugged the clean sheet the woman had been wrapped in off of her and scooped her up carrying her to the bathroom. He placed her carefully in the water and stepped back, but he didn’t leave. Grace felt a little creeped out as the man watched her wash the unconscious woman.

“So, umm… the only Sibyl I can think of is the Cumaean Sibyl, it was a story-”

“So you do know what a Sibyl is,” he sounded pleased.

“You’re kidding right?” Grace half turned to glance at him. “That’s a story, a myth.”

“A Sibyl is usually kept much more isolated than,” he paused, “Genevieve, as you call her, has been. They’re no longer permitted to mingle with those who don’t understand. There are songs she’s taught, very specific things to make it easier for us to understand her, but a Sibyl sees the shape of the future and relays it to her keepers. It’s written down and used to guide us. A Sibyl can guide her family to incredible riches for generations, putting them where they need to be at just the right time. They’re conduits of immense power. This one is probably limited or damaged, if she’d been found young enough or at least before the wolves had gotten her…” 

“What do you mean by wolves? In her glasswork, she liked that motif.”

He leaned on the wall. “What other motifs did she use?”

“One window she was making-”

“Windows? Windows are…” Fitz took a seat on the toilet and ran his hands through his hair, “She was prophesying for them. Tell me about them, everything you can remember.”

Washing Genevieve, Grace talked about the windows she’d seen, the one in the picture Eli had sent her, the one laid out on the bench, and the one that was ready to be cleaned up. He was asking about the colors when the other man came back. 

“Fitz?” 

“Cam… She’s been prophesying for the wolves by making glass windows for them. Crowns, peacock feathers, daggers, lutes, drawn bows, cups and swords-”

“She is a Sibyl, she probably can’t help herself.” Cam smiled and shook his head. “At least you know she isn’t too badly damaged. It may just take patience and an artist’s eye to understand her.”

“I know she sings too.” Fitz grinned, “We can try to teach her the old songs or just make sure she’s heard some decent music.”

“Let’s get her out of the bath and dried off. I bought another robe along with the other supplies and traded in the rental car for a camper van. Two seats in front and the back can either be set up as a dining area or a double bed. I stocked the mini-fridge. We shouldn’t need to stop often and never anywhere too public.”

“Good idea.”

The sound of Genevieve moving in the tub got everyone’s attention. She leaned to press her head against Grace’s arm and some soft, nearly inaudible song came out of her mouth.

“What is she singing?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know that one, something about wind and rain and…” Grace put her head lower, listening, “Getting dark darling, too dark to see-” 

Fitz yanked her out of the way, pulling Genevieve out of the water and the song stopped.

“Let’s get her dry and get something into her while she’s awake, Fitz. We need to be moving, if there’s wolves hunting for them I don’t want to stay this close for long.”