No mortal can touch the divine and live.
55
GONE
Somewhere far away, a siren wails. I grab Jude by the shoulders and shake him.
His head lolls.
There’s a hole in his shirt where the tether erupted. I slide my fingers inside and tear the fabric away. Tiny black spider veins curl over his heart.
I press my ear against his chest.
But there is no sound.
And I don’t know CPR.
Why don’t I know CPR?
“Please,” I cry, coming to my knees. Turning. Searching. My mind scrambling for something, anything, to fix this.
A figure stumbles through the dark.
Twig.
He limps toward me, dragging his left leg,blood soaked through the torn knee of his jeans. His face is ashen, scratched, and bruised. His glasses are gone. But he sees me and I see him.
He’s here.
Fullyhere.
So am I.
Someone cries.
Someone else moans.
The sound of frightened, injured party-goers pockmarks the night.
Distant, but no longer distorted.
Somehow, we are in the same realm.
Twig stumbles. Falls. Scoops something up from the grass, then gets to his feet again.
“Is he alive?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know,” I cry, searching for a pulse. A flicker of life. A shred of hope. “I don’t know,” I say again, wilder this time, my fingers fumbling from Jude’s neck to his wrist. My own heart beats everywhere—in my ears, in my throat, in my skull. If only I could rip it from my body and share it with him.
I reach for his other wrist.
The locket is still in his hand, open and empty.
With a hoarse cry, I snatch it up and hurl it at the tomb. It cracks against stone and falls as a sob tears up my throat and memories claw their way in.
Jude on his first day of school, readingMacbethin the cafeteria, debating with me in class about witches and evil. Listening to Stevie Knicks in hisstorage room. WatchingTales from the Cryptuntil midnight. Skipping rocks at the quarry. A glitter fight at the fairgrounds. Dancing in the ballroom. His crooked grin, a rare sight to see. But oh, when it came. He didn’t believe in monsters, but he saved me from one anyway, and then we kissed.
“Selah.” Twig drops beside me, his breathing ragged.
