Beyond the Rising Tide (29 page)

A deep voice comes from the corner of the room. “What are you doing here?”

My eyes snap up to see Jerick’s towering figure by the window, his scepter burning like a saffron flame, his icy-blue eyes freezing me into stillness.

I don’t answer him, don’t even consider the implications of him seeing me, because Avery is kneeling over her mom and screaming, “Mom!” She’s touching her mom’s face, neck, stomach. “She’s not breathing.” She turns to me. “She’s not breathing!”

Jerick is here to seal her mother’s death. I can’t let that happen—not to Avery. Not when I know how it feels to have a loved one blotted from your life. And not when I’ll be out of her life tomorrow too. I kneel beside her. She’s already starting CPR, blowing breath into her mom’s mouth.

I can stop this. With my wristband, I can save her. I haven’t been assigned, but I’ve already broken so many rules. What’s one more?

I look at Jerick. He’s shaking his head as if to say,
Don’t you dare.
I ignore him and touch Avery’s shoulder. “I’ll take over. Call 911.”

She looks at me a brief second, searching for something. Maybe reassurance or confidence, or maybe she’s gauging my ability to perform CPR. She must see what she needs, because she stands and moves out of the way. She finds her phone and hits three numbers, and I put my hands on her mom’s chest and start pumping. It must be too much for Avery to see, because she disappears into the hall. As I’m pumping, I try to draw from the healing power the wristband gives me, but for some reason I feel completely drained.

Jerick steps forward. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving this woman’s life,” I say quietly between heavy breaths, hoping Avery won’t hear. She’s on the phone with dispatch in the hall, giving them information. Her tone threatens to fracture my already dead heart into pieces, and I increase my focus, trying to direct all my energy into healing her mom.

“Who assigned you?” Jerick asks suspiciously. “I was supposed to seal her death.”

“Not today,” I say, ignoring his first question. “There must have been a mistake.”

He nods at Avery’s mom. “But it was her mistake. So you need to stop what you’re doing and let her go.”

I don’t stop. I can’t let her go. I seal my mouth over hers and blow air into her lungs, then pump her heart with the heel of my hands, just like I did nine years ago with my own mom. Only then, my arms weren’t strong enough to make any difference. They’re stronger now, but still may not make a difference. I need the healing power that I know is in me somewhere. I try to summon it again.

Just as I start to feel it build, Jerick asks, “Where did you get that ring?”

The energy drains, and I fight to get it back. Jerick knows I shouldn’t be here. Knows I shouldn’t be materialized. Shouldn’t have the ring. I can’t tell him where I got it, because Charles might get in trouble. “I’m here to help Avery,” I say. “Just for a little while.”

Jerick gives a dubious grunt. “On whose orders?”

I don’t answer because I’m blowing air into Avery’s mother’s lungs. And then I feel more than air leave me. Energy, power, life, leaves me and goes into her.

A sick fear coils in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been caught. Jerick is going to tell someone. I look up at him as I continue reviving Avery’s mom. “Please,” I say contritely between pumps, hoping that somewhere in his apathetic soul is a sliver of compassion. “You don’t understand.”

Jerick says nothing, just takes a step back, and disappears through the wall without completing his task.

They could be here any moment now, to take me back to Demoror or someplace worse for breaking the rules. I’ll never see Avery again. This can’t be it. I only hope I have enough time to save her mom’s life. Enough time to say good-bye. I hope Jerick says nothing. But I know that’s too much to hope for.

I need to focus. I need to not think about what’s going to happen to me or to Avery when they come for me. I need to heal Avery’s mom, for Avery.

I stop pumping and breathing and instead let my hand rest on her stomach. I can feel her soul’s warmth still in her body. I shut my eyes and concentrate, drawing not only from the power in the wristband, but from everything inside of me, all my sources of energy, and I let them flow into her.

“Stay,” I tell her. “Stay here. Stay here.” I feel it come from deep inside of me. Everything my soul is made of. Every thread, every watt of energy I’ve stored over the course of my existence. It comes from grief and anger, joy and love. It all pours out of me as energy and into her. But it isn’t enough.

“Please,” I cry out. I feel the word leave my lips like a bolt of lightning. It ricochets around the room and then shoots up, away to where such pleas go. In the same moment, the stone in the wristband lights up, and I feel a power surge inside of me and flow into Avery’s mom.

I hear sirens outside, and soon paramedics burst into the room.

y dad’s been gone for a long time,” I say to Kai. He’s sitting beside me in the ER waiting room, his hand blanketed over mine.

“It’s only been …” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Eight minutes since they took him back to see her.”

“I just hate not knowing.” I’m so tired of being in the dark. About the identity of the boy who saved me. About whether or not Mom will ever reconcile with Dad. About whether or not she’s even alive. So much uncertainty. So much powerlessness. I feel like a boat in the middle of a stormy sea with a torn sail. The winds will do what they want with me.

I want to leave. I want to go to the chocolate shop and make five hundred truffles, each one exactly the same. I want to measure the cream and sugar and vanilla with precision, and have each truffle come out exactly the way I intend.

I glance at the clock again. It’s two in the morning. “You don’t have to stay with me,” I say, even though I desperately want him to. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone.” His voice is subdued, weak with fatigue.

“Maybe Sophie will be here soon.” Dad asked her to come with him to the hospital, but she said she’d come later. I’m not sure what later means, but I wish she’d come now so Kai could go home and get some rest. His back is slumped against his chair, and deep shadows underline his eyes. What a way to end a day, walking in on your girlfriend’s half-dead mother. I feel bad for dragging him into this. But I’m also grateful that he was there with me, and for what he did for my mom.

The way he reacted, the urgency with which he revived her, was almost as if it were his own mother on the floor. I wonder how his mom died. If he didn’t look so exhausted right now, I’d ask him. And I wonder if seeing my mom like that brought back painful memories for him. He was saying strange things as he worked on my mom, almost like he was having a conversation. I didn’t hear everything he said, but I caught a few words. He said there must have been a mistake. And that he was here to help me.

Just as I turn to ask him about it, the double doors to the ER open and Dad emerges. His eyes are red, his face pale. His hand trembles as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

I stand and take three long steps toward him, my heart sinking at the sight of his anguish. It’s bad news. I just know it.

He stops in front of me and his hand comes to my arm. “She’s going to be okay.”

A breath of relief rushes out of me, and I fall into Dad’s arms and release the tears I’ve been holding back for five hours. I cry into his chest for what seems like forever, soaking his T-shirt with my tears. He rubs my back, whispering soft reassurances in my ear. But soon my relief turns to sorrow. And in the next breath, my sorrow turns to anger.

“How could she do this? After everything I’ve gone through in the last few months?” I look up at Dad. “How could she do this to you? After all you’ve done for her?”

“We don’t know that she meant to do it.”

“But she knows what happens when she mixes alcohol with her sleep med—”

“Avery. She’s going to be okay. Let’s focus on that.” He releases me and takes a small step back, running his hand through his messy hair. “She’s awake. But she won’t talk right now. You can go in and see her if you want.” He looks me in the eye and gives me as stern a look as he’s capable of. “Now is not the time for accusations or interrogations. Okay?”

I nod slowly and turn to see Kai standing behind me. His hair is a disaster, and once again, his face is so full of sadness and fear you’d think it was his own mother in the ER.

“I’m going to see her,” I say. “If you want to leave, I’ll ride home with my dad.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Kai—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His expression is like steel, and I know there’ll be no convincing him to leave.

I nod, then follow Dad through the double doors. The hallway is quiet, other than beeping noises coming from patients’ rooms and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. We enter Mom’s room. She’s lying in bed with her head turned away, slightly elevated with an IV in her arm. I slowly approach and slip my hand into hers. It’s cold, and she doesn’t respond to my touch. She keeps her eyes on the pastel curtains.

I don’t know what to say. And yet, there are so many things I want to say.

Why? Did you do it on purpose? Or was it an accident? Please tell me it was an accident like last time. Please tell me you’re not that stupid. Not that selfish. That you care about me and Dad and Sophie too much to remove yourself permanently from our lives.

But I don’t say any of these things. Instead, I say, “I love you, Mom. I’m glad you’re okay.” The rest can wait until later, or maybe forever.

She gives my hand a featherlight squeeze, and I stay at her side for a few more silent minutes before it all becomes too much for me. I don’t feel strong enough for this right now. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day, I can face her without feeling like my heart is being crushed in a vise. I withdraw my hand from hers and leave her alone with Dad.

As promised, Kai is still sitting in the waiting room. He stands, and I walk up to him. “Will you take me home?”

he’s quiet on the ride home, facing the open window, wind whipping hair across her face. She’s watching the darkened scenery rush by, her thoughts probably rushing even faster.