Page 105 of Break Out the Girl

“BASIL,” I yell over my shoulder, “Catch her, she’s going to faint.”

The boy dashes towards my mother, but before he gets to her a sudden, blinding white light explodes from Mom’s chest.

As she moans, the sound of cracking bones echoes through the bedroom. Then, right before our eyes, my mother shifts for the first time in her life.

One moment she is the middle-aged woman who has always been the steady rock in my life, the next she dissolves into a snow-white bird. Her feathers gleam, banishing the shadows of the bedroom. The bird launches itself onto Aurora's chest, dropping its head, and at the same time letting out a sorrowful cry. One that vibrates right through my marrow.

Instantly, a foul smelling, black-red mist begins to leak out of Aurora’s chest, rising into the air like a toxic cloud. My mother inhales deeply, drawing the dark fog into her own throat. As she absorbs the fumes, the snowy feathers around my mother’s chest start withering, turning a dull gray.

With a sudden, frantic flutter of wings, the white light flashes again, and Mum collapses back onto the floorboards in her human body.

She’s gasping for air, her face deathly pale, fingers clutching at her own chest where dark, bruised veins are now spiderwebbing beneath her collarbone.

“Mom!” I yell, reaching down for her.

“Don't touch me, Tally!” she gasps. “Don’t let go of your girl.” With weak, trembling arms, she forces herself up against the side of the mattress. She looks up at the three of us, her eyes wide with a frantic, instinctive urgency. “Take those golden bonds inside your chests and push, my loves! I-I took the defect from her, somehow. Now you can connect your hearts to hers—stabilize the rhythm!”

She stumbles across the bedroom, pulling open the window and retching.

“MOM!”

“I have to go,” she chokes out, the freezing rain spraying across her face. “I don’t know why, but my instinct is telling me to fly into the storm. Please, boys. Don't let her go!”

Before I can even scream her name again, Mom throws herself out into the air, her body morphing into the, now, gray-feathered bird, and flying straight into the gloom.

“Focus, Bevan!” François roars at me.

Yes. Focus.

I close my palm around Aurora's cold hand and shut my eyes.

Reaching deep into my chest, I find that silent golden thread and follow it with my mind. As I do, I see two more threads coming closer until they begin to wrap around mine, making one thick wire that connects me, London and François.

Together we feed it to Rory, pushing and pushing. Urging.

Begging.

Take it, Princess. Let us hold you, anchor you.

The room we’re in begins to fade away until all there is, is her.

And the three of us.

“RORY. PLEASE, BABY!”

“KITTEN, I LOVE YOU.”

“AURORA DRAKEWARD, DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD AND LIVE!”

The golden wire inside my sternum suddenly catches fire.

It’s an agonizing, beautiful sensation—like liquid gold being pumped backward through my veins. London lets out a gasp. François moans.

The air around us crackles, gold and lilac sparks alive and dancing, bleed out of our skin and into her.

Together we try to drag our girl back from the ultimate darkness.

Live, live, live.