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“She’s not dead,” I correct Ezra. “And she’s not dying either. She’s still alive. She’s going to pull through.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “As I said, I really fucking hope so.”
Ezra stays for a bit longer, then Lenore appears, handing me a cold coffee. Then she leaves, saying that they’re going back to the house for a bit and for me to text them if there are any changes, or if I need a break, since I’m going to be by Amethyst’s side and won’t want to leave her alone.
Finally the doors swing open and Amethyst steps out. Her eyes are bloodshot, puffy, face pale, nose red. She’s holding a spent tissue in her hand and she looks close to collapsing, as if she’s finally letting herself be weak.
It breaks my heart. But I remember what Solon said. I’m the one who has to be strong here, for her.
“Hey,” I say to her, pulling her toward me and enveloping her in my arms. I kiss the top of her head and she gives me a weak squeeze in response, a quiet sob.
“They’re taking her to do another brain scan,” she whimpers into me. “They told me to go sit in the waiting room.”
“Okay, come on,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and leading her to the small room around the corner. There’s a couch and two chairs and some art prints of Paris on the walls. There’s no one in here so we go inside and shut the door.
She immediately crumples onto the couch, lying down. I don’t know how close she wants me, so I take the chair beside it and reach out, holding her hand.
“How is she?” I ask in a gentle voice.
Her lower lip trembles, chin contorting, but she holds herself together. Fuck, this is breaking me apart to see her like this. Her sorrow, her sadness, it’s flooding me in waves, combining with my own.
“She’s okay. She’s…not responsive but the nurse says that’s normal. They’re doing another scan to see if anything has changed since she first got here.”
“Did they tell you anything about brain activity?”
She nods, a tear spilling down her cheek sideways and onto the couch cushion. “They said there is none but that could change. I asked if I had reason to stay hopeful and they said they’re always hope. But, god, it’s so hard to get stuff out of them, you know? Like they keep their own opinion to themselves.”
“Nurses and doctors have to stay guarded,” I tell her. “They never want to say the wrong thing.”
“I know, but I just need them to give me hope.”
“You do have hope. And I have hope. That’s enough, believe me.” I give her hand a comforting squeeze.
Silence falls over us. I can hear her heart beating in her chest, it almost sounds tired, heavy. Her breath is shallow, and her adrenaline is still through the roof, flooding the air with its distinctive scent. She’ll be crashing soon, and I think that’s for the best. She needs some sleep.
For a moment I almost think she is sleeping. Then she says. “My dreams,” she says. “The ghost woman. That was my mother, you know. The blue hospital gown. The head injury. Her hands, her hands were the same. It was her…what the fuck does that even mean?”
I suck in a deep breath, steeling myself. “It means she was part of the Mara.”
“The what?”
“The Mara. It’s where nightmares and sleep paralysis come from. The demon who brings death and misfortune while you’re sleeping.”
She sits up, pushing her hair out of her face. “How do you know that?”
I swallow thickly and look down at my hands. “Because I’ve seen it before. When my father died.”
Chapter 12
Amethyst
I stare wide-eyed at Wolf.
“You’ve seen it before?” I ask, trying to comprehend what he’s telling me. “Wait, so you saw this thing, this Mara, right before your father died?”
He nods, looking pained. “And then I saw my father. I didn’t know it was him…”
“So…” I begin, putting it together. “So, you saw this demon, this premonition or visit from the future or whatever it was, you saw it before your father died. And you didn’t think to tell me that this was the same thing?”
His expression falls. “I didn’t think…I didn’t know for sure.”
Suddenly it hits me. I spring to my feet, ignoring the dizziness in my head. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Wolf? At any moment you could have said, ‘hey this same thing happened right before my father died, maybe it’s an omen that something will happen to your mother.’”
“I didn’t know it was your mother!” he says, raising his voice. “I didn’t know it was the same thing!”
“I could have prevented this! We could have stopped this!”
He shakes his head, brows coming together. “No. It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
