“What?” She looked around them. They’d stopped at the traffic light marking the exit from the hospital’s property, and she didn’t see or hear anything amiss. “Is something wrong?”
“Honey…” He shook his head, bewildered amusement creasing his forehead. “I’m referring to you. You’re the irreplaceable element. Ofcourseyou are.”
“Oh.” She wiggled happily in her seat, and her ears stung with pleased, embarrassed heat. “Really?”
“Really.” Another brush of his lips, and then he set her hand in her lap and turned onto the busy highway. “So please, for the love of all that’s good in this troubled world, tell me whatever you feel comfortable sharing about your doctor’s conclusions. Did he have any explanation for your extended unconsciousness during recent visions? Or your post-vision nausea and nosebleeds?”
Her health was his priority? Not his truncated meeting with the SERC chair or his damaged apartment? Or even her account of what had caused the fire, whose dubious origin was surely being investigated at this very moment?
That was…that was very unexpected. Also very…
Nicewas too pale a word for the feeling.
Sometimes, when she finally got home after a late-night meeting with a client in winter, and her very bones seemed to shake with the cold, she cranked the temperature of her small shower’s spray as high as it would go, then stepped inside and just…stood there. Wasted water and the electricity required to heat it. Let the steaming cascade pour over her head and course down her body until she was pink and blotchy and shuddering in relief.
The sting in her palm would fade away beneath the sheer animal comfort of the hot water. Her worries would retreat under the ceaseless stream, and she’d feelgood. Mind quiet. Body content. Heart and soul eased, if only for a minute or two.
That.Thatwas how she felt now, despite every concern that should take precedence.
“Um…” She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “The doctor said my unresponsiveness during my latest visions and my nosebleeds and nausea afterward are standard for oracles my age with…uh, a certain level of power.”
A very significant level, according to him. The highest tier, in fact. According to him, such oracles continued channeling more and more power with each vision until their late forties or early fifties, and their aging bodies inevitably began to protest at some point. Since powerful, post-verification seers led such shadowy, secretive lives, she’d had zero clue.
Given that context, the doctor hadn’t been overly concernedby her recent prophetic side effects, especially once he’d seemingly pinpointed the cause of her sudden, vast leap in ability.
“Based on how a standard post-vision healing by the witch doctor eased my symptoms, he thinks wearing a basic anti-nausea charm and having a mild healing spell handy for future nosebleeds and headaches should take care of those issues.” She lifted a shoulder. “There’s not much they can do about the unconsciousness bit. I’ll try not to loiter around sharp objects and hard floors if at all possible.”
“That’s it?” Hugh’s grip on the wheel tightened. “When it comes to your unpredictable bouts of insensibility, that mangy werewolf couldn’t provide any guidance more helpful than ‘maybe don’t juggle knives over a concrete slab’?”
From Hugh, that was a surprising level of sarcasm. Unwarranted, of course, but funny.
“Well…” Here was the bit she’d beenitchingto share. “If he’s right, I could ratchet my visions back down to where they used to be. Under certain circumstances. Eventually.”
“ ‘Certain circumstances’?” Hugh repeated. “Does that mean he found an explanation for why you’re suddenly a top-tier oracle, complete with all the attendant risks and side effects?”
All of the side effects except wealth, she thought wryly.
“He thinks…” Suddenly she didn’t want to say it after all. Not when it would highlight the vast, humiliating chasm separating their lives to this point. “He thinks I’m suddenly much more powerful because…”
The car rocked to a stop as Hugh braked uncharacteristically hard at a red light.
“Because what?” He rounded on her, eyes wide and wild with impatience. “Becausewhat, Gwen?”
“Because…I started taking vitamins.” Her nose wrinkled in embarrassment. “Recently. For, um, the first time ever.”
Normal prenatal multivitamins, but also other ones. From what her obstetrician and now the werewolf had told her, her body just didn’t seem to process iron or vitamins B12 and D well. So she’d been prescribed supplements, which she’d been faithfully taking since her first obstetric visit.
Before her pregnancy, she’d never undergone such comprehensive testing. Back in Maryland, her parents had lacked health insurance and struggled to pay for even the most urgent medical care. Devoting a paycheck to wellness screenings for seemingly healthy children would never have occurred to them. And while Delphi had provided acute care, the presumption was that routine checkups and preventative care would occur at the students’ homes.
As an adult, she’d echoed her parents’ choices for exactly the same reasons. And so, for almost four decades, she’d remained Gwendolen Wexloff, the world’s most underpowered oracle. Infamous in Supernatural and Enhanced circles. A disappointment to everyone, including herself. All because she wasn’t taking a freakingmultivitamin.
What a terrible, pointless waste of her inborn abilities, not to mention her family’s potential earnings. That said: The more cataclysmic visions she suffered and the more closely she considered the actual lives of powerful oracles, the less she truly wanted the designation.
“Vitamins?” Hugh was staring at her, jaw slightly agape. “Really?”
She nodded. “Apparently my power is unusually sensitive to certain nutrients.”
He scratched thoughtfully at his beard. “Well, damn. That’s a surprise.”
