“She’s outside?”
The sisters are on it; Devon and I should definitely not stick around for the aftermath. There’s nothing we can do to help.
But then the girl on the ground, Izzy, I guess, moans, a soft, guttural sound mixed with a whimper. She’s still alive.
Fuck.
There’s certainly nothing Devon can do, but me…
No! It’s something you’ve never even tried before, something you’ve never even witnessed. Who knows, maybe Death was just bullshitting you from the beginning?
This could end very badly, Jocasta.
That voice for that last bit sounds exactly like my mother, which, for better or worse, pushes me into a split-second decision.
Stepping toward the girl, I shrug out of Carter’s coat. “See if you can figure out where it’s coming from,” I say to Devon. “If you do, don’t go anywhere near them. Just come back and tell me.”
“What are you doing?” Devon stares at me.
Something stupid.
“Just go, hurry!” I tell him.
He hesitates, then nods, turning away and heading back for the street.
Three Delta Pi Gamma sisters burst out onto the porch. “Stay back! Call 911 and bring blankets,” I say, injecting authority into my voice, as if I know what I’m doing. “Lots of blankets. We can’t move her.”
And I really don’t want anyone touching her besides me.
Two of the girls immediately return inside. The other yanks her phone from her leggings pocket and starts tapping in numbers.
Bracing myself, I lean forward and drape Carter’s coat over Izzy’s prone form. The tingling intensifies immediately with my closer proximity, and my hands go numb, as if I’ve shoved them into an ice bath.
When I kneel next to her, the concrete digging into my skin, the numbness spreads, but I ignore it.
I’ve never tried to shove life back into someone before. I don’t know where to start. I don’t even know if Icando it. I’m not Death. Also, there’s probably a huge difference between saving a fetus and a full-grown individual bleeding and broken on the ground.
But maybe I can at least try to break up the feed. Give her a chance to survive, a chance Lennie never had.
“P… please,” Izzy whispers.
“Just stay calm. I’m going to try to help.” I rest my hand on her shoulder, and it’s like biting on a metal plug that’s still partially in the wall socket.
I clench my teeth against the sensation, refusing the instinct to jerk away.
Closing my eyes, I focus until I can sense the flickering of life within her, a dim flame, a candle devouring the last of its wick. It takes effort to ignore my instinct to pull at it. Instead, I try topushenergy toward it.
It’s awkward and fumbling, like when I broke my arm in third grade. I probably healed within the first couple weeks, but my mother had me keep the cast on for the full six. I had to learn to write with my left hand. Everything about it screamed WRONG, just like this.
Distantly, I’m aware of the two sorority sisters returning withblankets, the third talking to an emergency operator on the phone, but I can’t pay attention to them right now.
The flickering of Izzy’s life brightens momentarily, and I’m relieved.
But then… something changes, shifts like a switch flicking on or a door opening, and suddenly, there’s a magicalpullyanking on me instead.
It’s almost like a force coming up from the ground, trying to consume me through Izzy.
Panic jolts me out of my concentration, and I can no longer sense the remaining life in Izzy, let alone attempt to feed it.
