I’m coming to get you!” I shouted up to her.
My hands were shaking. I tried to pry the stopper off. But it was stuck. It wouldn’t budge.
“Obadiah, help me!” I clawed at the vial.
He reached out, but before he could take it from me, I smelled it—the scent of a thunderstorm flooding the air. The vial was open. I closed my eyes and whispered a silent intention— fly to Eva, bring her safely down . I raised the vial to my lips.
But before the glass had touched my mouth I heard it—my heart stopped: a high-pitched scream of pure terror. And then a sickening thud. And then silence.
CHAPTER 7
T he vial of Elixir fell from my fingers, shattering on the rooftop.
“Eva!” I screamed, racing towards the fire escape. I bounded down the stairs, as fast as I could go, Obadiah running after me.
The steps were icy and I tripped, the wet snow flying up into my face, but I didn’t stop. Obadiah was ahead of me now. He’d already reached the ground. We were both moving as fast as we could.
But was it already too late?
Through the bars of the fire escape I saw Eva crumpled on the ground. Her arms and legs were splayed out at crazy angles; her hair had sprung loose from her ponytail and lay spread out around her like a dark halo. She wasn’t moving.
No. Please, no.
I reached the last step of the fire escape and jumped down, landing in the snow.
I rushed over to her frantically, taking her arm, rolling up her jacket sleeve, pressing at her wrist, searching for a pulse.
“Please, Eva,” I begged, pressing down into her skin. I didn’t even know what I was searching for—I’d never taken a pulse before. Eva was the nurse, she was the one who knew this stuff. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely find it.
But then I felt something under my finger. It was small, fragile, delicate as the fluttering of a newborn bird. But I had felt it. A pulse. I bent down, pressing my face against Eva’s, and felt the warmth of her breath on my neck.
“Eva!” I nearly started crying in relief.
But she didn’t respond. She was unconscious. She was breathing at least—but still, this was serious; I knew that much.
Over my shoulder I could hear Obadiah on the phone. He had already called 911. The thing I should have thought to do, he’d already taken care of. He was good in a crisis, I realized as I watched him.
“She fell,” I heard him saying to the 911 operator. “I don’t know, at least fifty feet. No, I didn’t see where she fell from. We just saw when she hit the ground . . .”
I heard him giving the address of the club.
O badiah and I were both standing side by side, mute and in shock when we heard the sound of a siren in the distance.
“They’re here,” I said, exhaling a long, ragged sigh. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath all this time.
Red and white lights flashed against the brick facade of the building, reflecting off the snow. The ambulance barreled down the street. I ran towards it, skittering on the ice, waving my arms, afraid it would run over Eva on the ground. But the ambulance jerked to a stop, right in front of Obadiah’s building.
Two men in yellow jackets emblazoned with the letters “EMT” jumped from the van, carrying a gurney between them.
They rushed over to Eva. One of the men placed some kind of clear plastic mask over her nose and mouth. The other man put his hands on both sides of her head, cradling it.
I could see flashes of light on Eva’s face—every time the red siren light spun around to illuminate it. Her face was slack, blank—yet somehow peaceful. She was still unconscious.
Obadiah and I walked towards the EMTs and stopped just a few feet behind them. We stood there, shivering, watching them work—feeling helpless.
“Is she going to . . . be okay?” I asked one of the EMTs, my voice cracking, but I stopped short. I didn’t want to say the word I was thinking. Die?
The EMT shook his head.
“There’s no way to know that,” he
My hands were shaking. I tried to pry the stopper off. But it was stuck. It wouldn’t budge.
“Obadiah, help me!” I clawed at the vial.
He reached out, but before he could take it from me, I smelled it—the scent of a thunderstorm flooding the air. The vial was open. I closed my eyes and whispered a silent intention— fly to Eva, bring her safely down . I raised the vial to my lips.
But before the glass had touched my mouth I heard it—my heart stopped: a high-pitched scream of pure terror. And then a sickening thud. And then silence.
CHAPTER 7
T he vial of Elixir fell from my fingers, shattering on the rooftop.
“Eva!” I screamed, racing towards the fire escape. I bounded down the stairs, as fast as I could go, Obadiah running after me.
The steps were icy and I tripped, the wet snow flying up into my face, but I didn’t stop. Obadiah was ahead of me now. He’d already reached the ground. We were both moving as fast as we could.
But was it already too late?
Through the bars of the fire escape I saw Eva crumpled on the ground. Her arms and legs were splayed out at crazy angles; her hair had sprung loose from her ponytail and lay spread out around her like a dark halo. She wasn’t moving.
No. Please, no.
I reached the last step of the fire escape and jumped down, landing in the snow.
I rushed over to her frantically, taking her arm, rolling up her jacket sleeve, pressing at her wrist, searching for a pulse.
“Please, Eva,” I begged, pressing down into her skin. I didn’t even know what I was searching for—I’d never taken a pulse before. Eva was the nurse, she was the one who knew this stuff. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely find it.
But then I felt something under my finger. It was small, fragile, delicate as the fluttering of a newborn bird. But I had felt it. A pulse. I bent down, pressing my face against Eva’s, and felt the warmth of her breath on my neck.
“Eva!” I nearly started crying in relief.
But she didn’t respond. She was unconscious. She was breathing at least—but still, this was serious; I knew that much.
Over my shoulder I could hear Obadiah on the phone. He had already called 911. The thing I should have thought to do, he’d already taken care of. He was good in a crisis, I realized as I watched him.
“She fell,” I heard him saying to the 911 operator. “I don’t know, at least fifty feet. No, I didn’t see where she fell from. We just saw when she hit the ground . . .”
I heard him giving the address of the club.
O badiah and I were both standing side by side, mute and in shock when we heard the sound of a siren in the distance.
“They’re here,” I said, exhaling a long, ragged sigh. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath all this time.
Red and white lights flashed against the brick facade of the building, reflecting off the snow. The ambulance barreled down the street. I ran towards it, skittering on the ice, waving my arms, afraid it would run over Eva on the ground. But the ambulance jerked to a stop, right in front of Obadiah’s building.
Two men in yellow jackets emblazoned with the letters “EMT” jumped from the van, carrying a gurney between them.
They rushed over to Eva. One of the men placed some kind of clear plastic mask over her nose and mouth. The other man put his hands on both sides of her head, cradling it.
I could see flashes of light on Eva’s face—every time the red siren light spun around to illuminate it. Her face was slack, blank—yet somehow peaceful. She was still unconscious.
Obadiah and I walked towards the EMTs and stopped just a few feet behind them. We stood there, shivering, watching them work—feeling helpless.
“Is she going to . . . be okay?” I asked one of the EMTs, my voice cracking, but I stopped short. I didn’t want to say the word I was thinking. Die?
The EMT shook his head.
“There’s no way to know that,” he
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