Nero appeared at my side, surprise on his face until he saw me. He wasted no time, though, the perfect angel of Death that he was, that I would never be. My brother acted, scooping up the tiny soul pulled free of the small, crumpled body as the family before me erupted in denial and anger and grief in the flare of time it took for the doctor to pronounce the baby dead.
Nero left with the infant soul in his arms, without a word to me. There was nothing to say, no things to be spoken that hadn't been said many, many times before. I'd failed at last, as I always did. And nothing would ever make me one of them.
I turned, found Daphne glaring. Of course my sister seemed far more pleased in her furious and judgmental way than she should considering a baby just died. And she wasn't alone. Where
