Twenty-five

“Family, faith, and knives. Those are the things that last in this world. Everything else is essentially extra.”

—Evelyn Baker

St. Giles’ Hospital, an establishment for the care of cryptids

THERE WAS ONE THING I had to do before I could leave the hospital. Everyone knew I had to do it. And so when I said that I was going to go and talk to the doctor, they all let me go. Even Dominic. Even the mice.

There are some things that we have to do alone.

* * *

Grandma Angela was sitting next to Sarah’s bed when I came into the room. She looked up at the sound of my footsteps, and smiled. “Hello, Very-Very,” she said, making no effort to be quiet. There was no reason for it. Sarah was deeply unconscious, and from the slow, shallow rise and fall of her chest, she was at no risk of waking up. She was dressed in a pale green hospital gown, just like I’d been. She was flat on her back, like a princess in a bad Disney remake of some ancient fairy tale. Only it was going to take more than a kiss to wake her up.

“Hi, Grandma,” I said, walking over to the bedside. “How’s she doing?”

“Asleep, mostly, but I think she’s getting better, a little bit at a time. It can be hard to tell, since I can’t pick up what she’s projecting.” Grandma reached over and smoothed Sarah’s hair back from her forehead.

I swallowed hard. “Are you shielding the rest of us right now?”

“Yes.” Grandma nodded. “I didn’t want to risk it being something that wasn’t . . . well. That wouldn’t go over well.”

“But it could be important. Maybe we need to know.” I stood a little straighter. “Can you unshield me? Just long enough for me to tell you what she’s projecting at the rest of us?”

Grandma looked unsure. “Verity . . .”

“Please. This is partially my responsibility, even if it’s not my fault, and I’ve had Sarah screaming in my head before. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“If you’re sure . . .”

“Will it help?”

Very slowly, Grandma nodded. “I think it will, yes.”

“Then do it.”

“All right.” She looked at me gravely. The edges of her irises went white, the lack of color spreading into the blue like frost—and just like that, the static buzz of “telepath nearby” returned, Sarah’s presence once more making itself known to my mind. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until I finally had it back again.

Then her thoughts came flooding in, hot on the heels of the static. There were no words: just an emotional slurry of images and feelings and panicked reactions. I staggered, eyes going wide. Grandma half-stood, and I gestured for her to sit back down as I braced myself and started trying to sort through what I was receiving. It wasn’t easy.

“She’s scared,” I said finally. “She doesn’t know how she did what she did, she doesn’t know whether it’s something she should have been able to do. She volunteered, but she didn’t think it would be quite that easy, or quite that strong. So she’s scared. And she’s afraid that because it was easy, it’s going to be something she wants to do again. Like this is something she’ll just do now.” But you won’t, I thought fiercely. Sarah, do you hear me? You won’t do anything like that unless you don’t have any other choice, because you’re one of the best people I know, and good people just don’t do that kind of thing. So don’t be scared of something that’s never going to happen. That’s just silly.

There was a brief pause in the overwhelming flood of guilt. I didn’t know for sure whether that meant she’d heard me, but I still took it as a good sign.

“What else?” asked Grandma.

“She really did hurt herself. It was easy, but it was a strain at the same time, like those people who get hopped-up on adrenaline and throw cars around. She’s afraid to be awake, because if she’s awake, she might manipulate people just to avoid straining herself further.”

Grandma nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of. Well, we can keep her out long enough to get her home, where there’s nobody she can do that to.” Grandma didn’t receive; Grandpa was a Revenant, and having died once, he was basically immune to telepathic influences. My Uncle Billy might have had more issues, but he wasn’t living at home at the moment, and he could stay away while Sarah recovered.

“She’s going to get better, right?” I bit my lip as I waited for her answer.

To my deep relief, Grandma nodded. “If she’s projecting clearly enough that you can hear her, but not so strongly that she’s knocking you unconscious, then yes, I think there’s a very good chance that she’s going to get better.”

“Good.” I looked sternly at Sarah’s still, pale form. “You hear that? You’re going to be fine. And if you’re not, I’m going to kick your ass.” I mean that. Whether you can hear me or not, I mean it.

“You’re a good cousin, Very-Very,” said Grandma.

“I’m a terrible cousin who leads Sarah into the path of danger because I think she needs to get out more,” I said. “I’m also a terrible granddaughter.”

Grandma blinked. “Oh? How’s that?”

“I’m going to let you be the one who tells Artie.”

Much to my relief, she laughed. “Oh, you are a terrible granddaughter.” She paused. “There is one thing you could do to make it up to me.”

“Name it.”

“Can you watch Sarah while I go and get myself something to eat? I haven’t wanted to leave her unattended for long, but it seems to me that you have a pretty good handle on things.”

I smiled. Grandma might not be a receptive telepath, but she knows how to read people, and she knew that I wanted some time with Sarah alone. “Take as long as you need,” I said.

Grandma hugged me before she left the room. I took her seat next to Sarah’s bed, reaching over to take Sarah’s hand in mine. Her skin was cool, but no more than usual. Cuckoos run a little cold compared to humans.

“Hey, Sarah,” I said, trying to mentally project the words as I said them. I wanted her to hear me with her ears, as well as with her mind. “I just wanted to say thank you. I mean, you saved my ass back there. If you hadn’t shown up when you did . . . well, this would be a really different scene, and I don’t make nearly as good of a Sleeping Beauty as you do. Not that you’re a Sleeping Beauty. More of a Snow White, with your coloring. Too bad Artie isn’t here. He could kiss you awake. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Silence from Sarah. There was no change in the mix of thoughts and emotions rolling off of her.

I sighed. “I know you’re feeling pretty rotten right now, but seriously, you found the best solution. You found the answer where everybody walked away. How many cuckoos would have done that? Most of them would have just reached for the matches and watched the whole thing burn. You did the right thing. You did the best thing. You did the thing that saved the most lives, and that’s why I love you.”

Silence from Sarah . . . but I thought, for just a second, that I felt her fingers tighten on mine.

I closed my eyes. “So Grandma says that you get to go back to Ohio for a little while. You like it there, right? You’ll have all your books, and you can pick up your comics from the comic book store for the first time in like, a year. Lots of spandex drama for you to catch up on. Speaking of drama, you realize we’re stuck with Dominic now, right? The Covenant won’t be coming back for him . . .”

I talked until I ran out of words, and then I just sat there and held her hand, “listening” to the mixture of thoughts and images that came pouring off her. This, too, was a part of my life; remembering that everything costs, and sometimes, what it costs is more than we want to pay. But we pay anyway, because that’s the right thing to do. Sarah would get better. She had to.

I was still sitting there, holding Sarah’s hand, when Grandma came back into the room. She came and stood next to me, putting her hand on my shoulder, and the three of us stayed that way for quite some time.

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