"Mama." Dolores looked worriedly at her mother. "Tío had a vision this morning."
Pepa nearly asked, "How did Tío Agustin have a vision", ten years of habit difficult to erase. But now, now her children had two tíos again, as they should have had all along. As they did have all along, so Mirabel told them, the whole horrific story spilling from her innocent lips after her dear Fèlix found her old armchair in the ruins of the kitchen. She and Julieta had not let their brother out of sight the entire day.
Dolores squeaked.
"Sorry, sorry," Pepa said, shooing away the clouds that had formed over her head. "What did you say, mi vida?"
"Tío Bruno had a vision."
For a moment, Pepa didn't react, then her eyes widened as the meaning sunk in. "Gracias, Lolo. Tell your tía not to save him breakfast."
"Sí, Mamá." Dolores hurried down the stairs, leaving Pepa to walk down the short corridor that separated Bruno's room from the rest of the house.
It hadn't always been like that, when they were young their doors had stood side by side, but as new doors had appeared and the family had grown bigger and bigger, Bruno's door had gradually retreated into the dark. Much like Bruno himself.
When they'd rebuilt Casita, they'd changed that, pulling Bruno back into the family centre where he belonged, but with the return of the magic had come the return of that dark little hallways, separating Bruno from their family. One day, Pepa hoped, the hallway would no longer exist, but she knew even then, there would never again be their three doors standing side by side.
When Pepa entered Bruno's room, she didn't call out to him, just made her way to the elevator hidden behind one of the towering rocks and started pulling herself up. It was easier with someone at the top, but decades of practice meant it wasn't too long before she was stepping off the platform and onto the sand-covered stone of Bruno's cave.
"Bruno!" she called, but she doubted he could hear her. Unplanned visions – and she doubted it was a planned one, he hadn't had a planned one since Mirabel – robbed him of his focus and energy. Nearly always, he would pass out after, but worse still was when he lost himself in what was to come and would stare, blank faced, into the future – sometimes for days.
Fortunately, and how terrible was it, that this was fortunate, she found him crumpled in the ground inside his vision cave, too exhausted to make it out of the room. At least the sand was soft. She hadn't brought any of Julieta's food with her, and collapsing suddenly was a quick way to a head injury, as she remembered from their childhood. After the time Bruno had had an involuntary vision on the stairs then came out of it only to tumble down and crack his head open, Mamá had forbidden him from going down the stairs alone for a month, and even then she only relented when he promised to carry some of Julieta's food with him at all times.
She knelt down beside him, brushing the sand and hair away from his face. A small cloud started raining above her, and for once she was grateful. It was doing a much better job of washing the sand away.
"Up you get, hermanito." She put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him up. He was light, too light, even after weeks of Julieta's cooking, but she still couldn't carry him with just an arm around his shoulders. Not while he was in post-vision unconsciousness, and completely unable to support himself.
Instead she hoisted him into a fireman's carry, keeping a careful ear out for any signs of reaction. When they were teenagers, he'd come to when she was carrying him like that and promptly vomited all down the back of her dress. She'd refused to carry him again for nearly a year.
This time, he didn't show a hint of awareness until she'd already laid him into his hammock. That was when he groaned, one hand coming up to rub at his eyes.
"Buenos dias, Bruno," Pepa said softly. She didn't want to overwhelm him when he was still recovering.
Despite her best intentions, Bruno startled badly at the sound of her voice, falling out of his hammock to the floor. Ruana crumpled around him, he looked up at her with big eyes. "Oh."
Pepa couldn't help it. She laughed, the cloud over her head breaking into bright sunshine. "Your face! Oh, hermanito, you were so surprised!"
Bruno popped back to his feet with a bounce, then immediately groaned, falling back into his hammock and sending it swinging. "That was too quick. When did we get so old?"
Pepa slapped his arm, then quickly apologised when he winced. "Sorry, sorry. But you can't be too old, because you're younger than me, and I'm not old."
"You know who's really old," Bruno murmured, closing his eyes. He smirked, and without even looking, he and Pepa chorused, "Julieta."
"She's so old," Pepa agreed. "Practically ancient." She stood, ruffling Bruno's hair as he settled into sleep. "When she comes up with lunch later you can tell her that."
Bruno mumbled something that might have been, "You tell her."
Pepa laughed. "Sleep well, nene."
