Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 There was nothing of note in the paper, the day it happened. The story had yet to break. Other, more interesting things were happening in the world. In the city. A murder was nothing new, nothing sensational. There is nothing so profitable as a sensation; even the most staunch cynic is drawn in by its magic. There is a magnetism to bolded text, to bolder headlines.

The day Lila Vanez woke was a different story. The news had broken with the dawn; a resurrection, a miracle, a mystery. Indeed, a sensation. The papers blared it to the world: a murderer on the loose, a woman in the hospital, a mysterious savior, who had yet to be identified.

“No one is sure who saved young Lila Vanez’s life,” one reporter reported, as reporters are wont to do. “They called nine-one-one at eleven o’clock that night. Doctors are saying that our would-be victim should have died, based on her wounds. If anyone has any information on this good samaritan, or on the whereabouts of the attacker, they should call this hotline number…”

Lila Vanez woke up to a very different world than the one she’d gone to sleep in. The edges and lines were softened, by morphine or by something less benign. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled her nose, smothering everything else. Her own heartbeat was horrendously loud in her ears.

It was as though her body was dissolving, not painfully, but gently. It was a slow, sweet death, a death like autumn. A mourning like winter. She was the earth, buried in a shroud of snow. Waiting for the spring, for the pain and life it would bring.

She carefully turned her head and examined her surroundings. Slowly, a heart monitor came into focus. She followed the cord down and found it was attached to her right index finger. “Huh,” she breathed, bemused. She stared at it blankly for a moment, but couldn’t muster the energy to think about it much more.

In the same arm, an IV was attached. She stared at the drip for a moment or so. When had time grown so strange and fluid? It stretched and skipped in turns. She stared at the ceiling for a miniature eternity. She blinked and ten minutes had passed. She had never felt so tired.

She closed her eyes again, let the waves pull her under.

When she found her way out of the fog again, her eyes fluttered open to meet another’s. They made eye contact, and for a moment the world was quiet. The woman’s gaze was like an electric shock.

Lila couldn’t look away. There was something magnetic about those eyes.

The woman was young, about Lila’s age, with a pert nose and round cheeks. Her hair was short and thick and curly. There was a smattering of cinnamon freckles across her nose. Her eyes were large and brown behind thick glasses.

“Hello, sweet pea,” she said. “I’m Sarah Sanct, I’m the nurse on the day shift. You can just call me Sarah. How’re you feeling?” Her voice was like sugar.

Lila’s trance broke, and she abruptly found her voice. “Like shit,” she croaked. The woman’s cheerful expression grated on Lila’s nerves. Lila wanted to hate her on sight.

The nurse’s smile was like benediction.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’.” She smoothed Lila’s sheets down with deft hands and checked her vitals. She made a note on her chart in loopy script. “Do you remember what happened to you? Paramedics brought you in around eleven thirty last night. You suffered a deep laceration across your throat, which came very close to severing your carotid artery, and several stab wounds after the fact to your torso. There’s also some kind of animal bite on your upper left arm. Must have smelled the blood. It’s a miracle you’re alive.”

“I remember some of it,” Lila said, “But nothing after the first stab wound. Even that’s kind of blurry.” She was glad of the morphine’s soothing chill.

“Perfectly normal, considering the trauma you went through.”

There were a few moments of silence. Sarah switched the bag hanging on Lila’s IV for a fresh one and made another note on the chart. Lila’s eyes began to droop, but she forced them open again.

After Sarah left, she sat up, ignoring a flash of pain across her neck. Her fingers ghosted over a thick layer of gauze wrapped around her throat. Have they caught him yet? She wondered. Her eyes fluttered closed. The question would have to wait.

 Sarah Sanct watched the doctor stare at the patient’s chart. Her sweet face was completely blank. She shifted her weight, straightened her spine, clutched her clipboard. One hand drifted up and tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

The doctor stepped back. “Simply incredible.”

Sarah’s lips twisted upwards, but her expression could not be called a smile. She tugged at the chain of her necklace. The pendant was a little blob of glass, inside which was a pressed blue flower.

She turned her gaze back to Lila Vanez, lying still as the corpse she’d almost been on the sterile sheets. Her neck was wrapped in gauze, and beneath her hospital gown, Sarah knew, so was her abdomen. Lila’s cheeks were pale and her face was drawn with pain, but she was alive.

She was healing.

“Her cells are regenerating at a fantastic rate,” the doctor murmured, leaning over Lila’s bed. “It’s amazing. We’ll have to ask about samples…”

Sarah tensed. “Mh-hm,” she hummed nervously.

The doctor hovered for a moment more. Sarah smiled tightly and said, “Well, I’ve got to check Ms. Vanez’s vitals. Would you excuse me?”

“Of course, Nurse Sanct. Pardon me.”

Sarah watched him leave and turned back to Lila.

Lila’s eyes were wide open.

Lila squinted suspiciously at Sarah. “What was all that about? Is there something wrong with me?”

Sarah sighed. “No. Quite the opposite, in fact.” she sat down on the edge of Lila’s bed. “How much of that night do you remember?”

Lila scowled and tried to ignore the rush of adrenaline and fear that flooded her at the mention of the attack. “Not much. I remember walking home. And I remember him stabbing me. Nothing after that, though.”

Sarah swallowed. She rubbed her hands together, almost neurotically. “No one’s too clear on the details. The cops are still trying to figure out whodunnit.” she tucked her hair behind her ear again. “Did you know the guy?”

“Unfortunately,” said Lila, giving an ill-concealed shiver. “But what was the doctor saying about abnormal healing? It’s not something I need to worry about, is it?”

Lila watched Sarah’s expression sour with great interest. It was like watching storm clouds gather in the sky in time lapse. “The doctor? He’s perfectly harmless. A lovely man.”

“I wasn’t talking about the doctor.”

Sarah smiled. “The healing? Nah. No need to worry about that.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

Sarah’s lips twisted wryly. “Nothing’s wrong with you.” She stood up and finished checking Lila’s vitals.

“Hang on! You didn’t answer my question!” Lila sat up in bed and swung her legs over the side.

“Woah! You’re in no condition to be walking, sweetpea.” Sarah turned back and eased her back down. Lila winced as the movement pulled at her injuries. “You’re healing at a fantastic rate. We’re not sure what to make of it. It’s nothing malignant, the doctor’s run every test he can think of. You’re just lucky, Ms. Vanez.”

Lila settled on the mattress and crossed her arms over her chest. There was a ring of dishonesty to Sarah’s voice. The woman was used to lying, but not with her mouth. She was like a faerie, the old kind, the dangerous kind. The sort who could twist anything to mean anything, could make up, down, north, south, right, wrong. Lila knew a lie when she heard one. It took a liar to know a liar.

Sarah smiled. “It might be nothing. But it might be something, too. I’ll get back to you on that.” She turned on her heel and left.

Lila bitterly slumped against her pillows. She couldn’t follow, not without popping a dozen stitches. She rubbed a hand across the bandages on her neck and abdomen. They felt weeks old, not days. Her throat tightened like a vice. She was drowning in fear.

For a moment, she could feel the phantom knife slitting her throat. Pain seared across her abdomen. There was the silhouette of a man above her. And then, later, surrounded by a growing puddle of her own blood, some kind of animal, sharp teeth, more pain...

She forced back tears. Count the scratches in the ceiling, she told herself. It’s better than wallowing in your own misery.

The air conditioning hummed loudly in the background, growing louder by the second, or so it seemed. Lila shivered and wished she had a thicker blanket. She was wearing a paper hospital gown, and she was draped with a single, scratchy sheet.

The silence felt like a physical thing. A weight. It pressed against her ears. She wished she had her headphones. She wished she were at home. She wished she were truly alone. She wished she would never be alone again. Her eyes burned. She wished she could lie to herself as well as she lied to everyone else. She tried to curl in on herself, hug herself since no one else was going to do it, but her stitches burned in warning and she gave up on any smidgeon of comfort.

Sleep claimed her before she was done crying.

The next morning, Sarah came in again. Lila’s eyes were still puffy and her cheeks were still tracked with dried tears.

Sarah’s expression crumpled when she saw her face. “Are you alright? We can up your morphine dosage if the pain’s too much,” she said. She pressed her cool hand to Lila’s forehead and the slid it into her hair. Lila fought the urge to lean into the touch.

Sarah’s gaze bored into Lila’s. Her voice was deep for a woman’s, sonorous and sweet. Smooth. “What’s wrong? Are you lonely?”

“No!”

Sarah didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she stood up and walked out. Lila watched her go, feeling oddly adrift without her. She slumped back on her pillow and closed her eyes.

Several minutes passed.

Someone settled in the visitor’s chair by her bed. Lila’s eyes flew open. “Who--Sarah?”

The nurse smiled. “I’m taking my fifteen minutes. You can sleep. I’ll just keep you company.”
“I’m not lonely!” Lila insisted. She was.

“You are,” Sarah said. “No one’s come to visit you but the nurses, and we aren’t exactly sociable.” She pulled a thick book out of a messenger bag at her feet and opened it. “This is one of my favorites. I think you’ll like it.”

Lila fell reluctantly silent, cheeks burning. She let Sarah’s voice wash over her. Listening to her voice was like sitting on the seafloor; everything but the currents faded away until it was you and the ocean, the ocean and you. By the time Sarah finished reading her the first chapter, her fifteen minutes were up, but that was okay--Lila was already half-asleep. Sarah cupped her cheek in one hand for a moment, and then she left. Lila let sleep pull her under. The last thing she saw was Sarah, carefully closing the door behind her.

 The next day, the detective in charge of Lila’s case came to visit. He brought a police sketch artist along. “You shouldn’t have bothered,” Lila told him. “I know exactly who did it. I can give you pictures, if you want.” a pause. “God knows I have enough of them.”

The detective shared a glance with the sketch artist. “Who?” his voice was deep and sharp in a way that was difficult to describe. Lila decided he had ten minutes to make her like him.

“Adam Greene, ex-fiance.”

The detective did not visibly react. Neither did the sketch artist. Lila was grateful for it. She didn’t like thinking about Adam, didn’t like the person he’d turned her into.

“No need,” the detective reassured her. “Now that we have his name we can find him easily enough. Even without a driver’s license, there’s always Facebook.” Lila decided the detective was alright.

He and the sketch artist took their leave, promising her that Adam Greene would be behind bars before the month was up.

Lila doubted it. Adam had always been a clever one. Even when he was mean, half-mad with anger and cornered, he was a clever one, she thought.

She suddenly felt very, very small.

She was discharged three days later.

Sarah waved her goodbye with a smile on her face. Lila didn’t wave back. She signed the papers they put in front of her without reading too closely and left.

The walk to her apartment was long and painful. Every step pulled at her stitches, and by the end muscles she hadn’t known she had were burning. She was panting for breath by the time she reached her building. The idea of climbing the stairs--the barely-up-to-code building didn’t have an elevator--was a daunting one. She steeled herself for a lot of pain.

Half way up, she had to stop, doubling over and clutching at her torn-up stomach. Every breath pulled at half-healed wounds. She tried not to breathe too deeply. She tried not to breathe.

“C’mon, Vanez,” she scolded herself. “You’ve had worse. You can do this.”

“I sure hope you haven’t had worse,” a familiar voice called from the next floor up. Lila froze where she stood.

“Sarah?”

“You almost died this time, Miss Vanez,” the other woman continued. “If this is nothing, I’d hate to see your definition of something.”

Lila straightened up and managed another two steps before she had to stop or risk collapsing on the hardwood staircase. She sank to her knees and leaned back, trying to catch her breath without aggravating her injuries. She closed her eyes and bit her lip.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her elbow. Her eyes flew open and she jackknifed upright, coming face-to-face with Sarah Sanct.

“C’mon, Miss Vanez,” Sarah said, helping her to her feet.

Lila wrenched her arm from Sarah’s grip and said, “Call me Lila.”

They climbed the stairs in silence. When they reached the top, after Lila had caught her breath, Sarah helped her into her apartment. She made sure she had her painkiller regiment memorized and made Lila promise to get her if she needed anything. “I don’t care if you think it’s nothing,” she said, “Because you have a disturbing definition of nothing. I’m just down the hall from you. If you’re in pain or you pop a stitch or if you’re just lonely, you can come over. I’ll make tea and we’ll watch crappy rom coms.”

Lila had no intention of doing so, but she nodded, if only to get Sarah out of her apartment. “Thanks, Sarah,” she said.

“My pleasure, love,” Sarah said. She stepped outside, still meeting Lila’s gaze over her shoulder. Her eyes appeared for a moment less like cool earth and more like a harvest moon.

Lila froze. The door closed, and Lila was alone at last.

Lila scrubbed her face and tried to put those eyes out of her mind.

 A clang echoed from the narrow alley, just as she was passing by. Lila froze mid-stride. She stared into the darkness, thick, impenetrable.

The mouth of the alley loomed larger and larger. It came to resemble a gaping maw.

Lila’s breath caught in her throat. Weak sunlight glinted off crimson somewhere in its depths. She stumbled forward, as though caught on a fisherman’s hook.

For a moment, the alley was coated in gore. Her blood was splattered on the walls, pooling on the concrete, her nightmare was standing over her like a shadow given form, the world was fading to black--

A hand landed on her shoulder.

Lila jumped, shrieked, stumbled, fell. Something sharp bit into her palms. She inhaled deeply, like a swimmer coming up for air. Her lungs burned.

Sarah Sanct stood over her, hand extended, expression benovelet as the saint she wasn’t. Lila tried not to let her relief show. She let her neighbor pull her to her feet.

Sarah rubbed between her shoulders while she caught her breath.

(She had left the hospital nearly two weeks ago, and had her stitches removed since her third day at home, but she was still easily winded).

(Sarah had been there to help her up the stairs anyway).

Lila stared balefully at the concrete beneath her feet. Sounds were too loud. Scents were too sharp. The world was too bright, too close. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block it all out. With a harsh breath, she opened them again and forced herself to her feet. Her knees were wobbly, but her will was iron--even gravity, even trauma grovelled in her wake.

Lila stalked home, Sarah trailing a few paces behind her. Sarah slipped away from her once they reached their floor, and Lila was surprised to find she was sad to see her go. A pang of loneliness hit her in the chest like a physical thing. Something tightened in her throat. Tears burned in her eyes.

Lila darted into her apartment and slammed the door behind her.

The apartment was cold and dark and empty. Something in Lila rebelled against the solitary sterility of it all, raged against the confines of her rib cage. She sank into the couch, stared listlessly at the wall, and tried to convince herself that this was for the best. I’m better off alone, she said. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it. All I do is cause trouble. I’m a burden. I’m selfish and mean and I deserve this. This is my punishment.

She shook with silent sobs. She missed touch. She relished in it, craved it, when she let herself think about it.

No tears escaped. She didn’t make a sound, even as she shook with the force of her emotions. She was slight; there simply wasn’t enough room in her for the hurricane she contained.

Slowly, she calmed down. The hurricane devolved into a thunderstorm. She felt numb inside, empty. Spent.

Her gaze drifted to her window. Outside, a magpie was perched. It caught her staring and cocked its head to the side, eyes bright and curious. Its feathers were glossy black and ruffled. She stared at it, like she could divine the cosmos in the void of its coloring. Thought.

A second bird touched down beside it. Memory.  It began to preen the first’s feathers, until they were seamless as the night. The city lights glinted off them like stars. With a flutter of jet black wings, both were gone. Lila almost missed them.

Someone knocked on the door.

Lila turned her head and her hollowed eyes to the sound. She sighed heavily, like Atlas’ burden had been passed to her shoulders. An echo of the pain she’d felt at the hospital flashed through her as she heaved herself to her feet. She ignored it and shuffled to the door.

When she opened it, she found Sarah standing there, holding a box of tea bags and a pair of mugs. Her smile was muted and sympathetic. Lila hated it.

“Boot up your laptop,” Sarah commanded. “We’re watching a bad rom-com. I don’t care if we have to pirate it, I’m cheering you up.”

Lila let her in.

 Sarah was there nearly every day that week.

She came as soon as her shift ended, no matter how little sleep she’d had the night before. She had a million and one anecdotes at the end of every day. She stayed through the night too--Lila was beginning to wonder why she kept the apartment down the hall when she spent so much of her time at Lila’s.

She never pressed Lila about her sometimes-puffy eyes, or the way she fell asleep most nights and woke up screaming. She just got up and fixed another cup of tea, no matter how late it was. She pressed the mug into Lila’s still-trembling hands, folded her in an embrace she was too tired to resist, and they sat in the silence together. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and the worst. Her walls were crumbling the way all illusions do; slowly, gently, until the cornerstone around which it all was built falls away to reveal the truth, the heart of it, the secret, the lie. Lila was exposed, like a raw nerve. It was painful. It was liberating. It was terrifying.

She couldn’t help but love it.

That Friday night, Lila lay on the couch with Sarah. The credits of their movie were rolling on Lila’s laptop. Sarah was fast asleep next to her. Her weight was warm, comforting. She rested her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes. It was much easier to let Sarah comfort her when she wasn’t awake to see.

A soft, raspy caw sounded from the window. A single magpie perched on the sill, beady black eyes much more ominous in the dark. It looked her right in the eye for a moment, and she could not repress a shiver. Sarah’s arms tightened around her waist.

Lila tried to relax, but for some reason, the solitary bird made her uneasy. Thought without memory; memory without thought. The bird took off from the windowsill and disappeared into the night. Lila tried to put it out of her mind.

She leaned back again and closed her eyes. Sleep followed like night follows day.

The darkness settled over the apartment.

 The next morning, Lila woke to a crick in her neck and a quiet apartment. She groaned as she sat up--her whole body felt heavy. She stumbled into the kitchen and started the coffee machine. She leaned against the counter to wait.

She went back into the living room to wait, back to the couch, and found a piece of paper lying on the coffee table that she hadn’t noticed before.  

Lila,

Good morning! It is currently 6 a. m. and you are sound asleep. By the time you read this I’ll probably be on shift at the hospital. Please eat breakfast and enjoy your Saturday. Be careful of the magpies; they’re getting aggressive.

Sarah

Lila crumpled the note in her fist. She stood up and stretched. It took her a moment to realize that something was wrong.

What happened to the stab wounds?

She clutched her shirt, pulled it up over the thick gauze. She ran into the bathroom--another thing she hadn’t been able to do since the attack, running--and unravelled the bandages.

At last, her skin, still puckered with scar tissue, but not a scab in sight. The new skin was shiny and pink and very, very new, but also very, very impossible. Lila poked it gently, as if to make sure it was real. It twinged, sensitive, but the pain was small, infinitesimal.

This is impossible. Someone else’s voice echoed in her head, an old memory, faded and worn and dying-- one ought not to take the word impossible lightly, Lila Vanez, it whispered. Lila swallowed. The back of her neck prickled. She got the uneasy feeling in her stomach one gets when one is sure one is being watched.

Lila stepped back from the sink and dropped her shirt. Her scars hidden from site, she was suddenly certain they had been a dream. She pressed her hand over her stomach. There was a vague, dull ache, like sore muscles, but no sharp, bleeding pain.

She pressed her hand to the column of her throat, found the tail end of the bandage there. Unravelled it.

A ghastly line of scar tissue, still pink and fresh, traced its way from one ear around to the other. I should have died, Lila thought. Should have died, should have died, should have died. It was a Glasgow grin, carved into her neck, a terrible, terrible thing, but--

But. Lila couldn’t help but almost be proud of the scar. She had lived. It was more than anyone else had done.

Lila let the long, yellowed snake of gauze (she’d been due to change her bandages anyway) slip from her fingers, spill onto the floor. She stared at it. It was a butterfly’s chrysalis. It was never meant to last.

Lila stepped into the shower, let the burning water wash over her. It felt like baptism. It felt like Sarah’s smile, like benediction. Like holy fire. Like holy wrath.

She stared blankly at her hands as the water pounded at her back. Wondered what it was like to stab a person you’d pretended to love. What it was like to pretend to love someone. She idly ran a finger over the scar on her neck, felt the raised skin, and wondered. Eventually, even she couldn’t have told someone what she was wondering about.

Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in your own mind. Lila’s was a labyrinth.

Steam poured out of the shower as she opened the door and stepped out. She breathed it in, deeply. Her lungs filled with water. Is this what drowning feels like? She wondered.

She left the apartment without eating breakfast.

 Lila liked her job.

She worked as an editor, for a publishing company that made decent money. She had flexible hours and good, steady pay, and, best of all, it rarely required her to make small talk, at least in person. There was nothing Lila despised more than small talk, except perhaps the smell of antiseptic.

(Except perhaps the memory of Adam Greene).

She nodded tersely to one of her coworkers and ducked into her office.

It is just as easy to get lost in someone else’s thoughts as it is in your own; maybe even more so. Some people are corn mazes. Some are more akin to Daedalus.

Some people have Ariandes to guide them. Some find their own inner workings too terrifying to contemplate.

Lila was one of those people. She hated herself more than anyone else; there was no reason to go looking for nightmare fuel.

She found exploring other minds much more interesting.

She quickly got lost in her work. Minutes flew by, became hours, until it was time to go home. Lila looked up at the clock and abruptly realized that she had stayed ten minutes late. She cursed at herself and gathered her things.

The office was quiet this late; only a few lights remained on. Lila scurried outside and breathed a sigh of relief. The night air was lovely, even in the smog-choked city. She wished she could glimpse even a single star through all the light pollution, but only the waxing moon shone above, an overripe peach hovering just above the skyline.

Lila took her time on the walk home, every now and then casting a look over her shoulder to glance at the moon. The sky was on the cusp of night, on the verge of it; slowly, the city lit up around her, like stars emerging from the void of space somewhere deep in the countryside. The night sky had lost its stars, perhaps to the earth below it. For a moment it seemed the city could hold the whole Milky Way in its boroughs.  

The wind shifted, snaking its way through the city. Lila thought, if trouble has a scent, this is it. She also thought, god, someone's wearing his cologne. Adam Greene had been many things, among them consistent. He had worn the same, god-awful cologne in all the five years she’d known him.

She sped up. The night no longer seemed so friendly. Sinister figures lurked on every corner, just out of reach of the nearest street lamp’s light. She was just short of running.

Lila made it home with moonlight to spare.

When she opened her door, she found the apartment quiet. It was not a tranquil silence; it was the dangerous sort. The sort that comes with waiting. Watching.

She ventured into the living room. That was a mistake.

The floor was spotless. When she left that morning, there had been clothes everywhere, clean but unfolded. Sarah's favorite blanket had lain crumpled on the carpet beside the couch. Now it lay, neatly folded, in the basket which she had bought for the express purpose of holding blankets but had never used.

And in the very center of the room, there lay a little black picture frame, photo side down. She picked it up with trembling fingers. It was the only sort of decoration she had. The only picture.

She turned it over.

The glass was shattered, utterly destroyed, an ugly scar maring the glossy photo. Lila swallowed convulsively.

There was a post-it note stuck to the shattered glass. Did you miss me, little monster? It asked in Adam Greeneś familiar handwriting. I missed your carotid artery. There was a little face drawn at the bottom of the mocking note. It bore an unsettling resemblance to Sarah. Adam had never liked it when she had friends that weren't him. He had been the jealous type, even in the beginning.

She glanced up, eyes darting around in the darkness, searching for Adam’s ghostly silhouette. She swallowed again.

A singularly horrifying thought occurred to her. It was entirely irrational, utterly unlikely, but it gripped her imagination with a vise-like grip all the same. Sarah. The other woman hadn’t texted her in hours, which shouldn’t have been strange, but Sarah had a habit of texting Lila about every inane thing that happened to her on a given day.

Silence on every front. Sarah’s fine, Lila tried to reassure herself. But the apartment was ravaged, and Lila was alone, and Lila was scared. Adam Greene had a way of getting into her head; he always had. Once upon a time, that had been a good thing.

Lila shook her head, backed up until she ran into the coffee table. It bit into her back, the only real thing in the world. She compulsively clenched and unclenched her hands, knuckles white with tension. She’d spent so long alone. She didn’t want to go back to that, to being adrift, debris lost in the endless sea of the city.

Part of her--the scared part, the part of her that was still the lonely girl who Adam Greene had hoodwinked, thought, what if I let him have his way? What if I just gave in? Maybe he’d be Adam again, maybe I could go back to that. It would be easier. Most of her knew the truth: this had always been Adam, always been a part of him, and whatever love he’d shown her was part of his ploy. But it was easier to pretend. It was kinder.

She allowed herself a moment of motionless fear. A moment to think, to wonder if she should just let him have his way.

The moment passed.

And then she got to her feet, came to her senses, forced the tidal wave of fear to recede into the abyss. It would come back. The tides always did.

The world slowed down around her. It lost the fever-bright quality terror brought to it, lost the sense of urgency. She stilled. She breathed. She thought she might feel the earth turning in space, for just a moment. Beneath her feet.

She came back to herself, and in the calm, she could rationalize. Distance brought clarity. When it comes to matters of the heart, we are all farsighted.

You overreacted. You’ve been stressed. The cops have been watching your place like a hawk. The detective promised you you'd be safe.

She fished a glass out of the cupboard and choked down water. Her throat was still tight. She filled it up again.

She checked the locks. None were broken. She pushed a chair underneath the doorknob anyway. The windows were closed, locked, secure. A sigh of relief escaped her.

She washed her face. Brushed her teeth. Changed clothes. Crawled into bed.

Sleep rushed in, thick and heavy.

Two days later, Sarah still had yet to reappear. Lila went to work each morning with a twisted feeling in her stomach. She came home to an empty apartment and her heart skipped a beat. Hope burgeoned for a moment--she opened the door--and crashed, a ship doomed to jagged shores. Empty.

Lila let her head land on the doorframe with a solid thunk. She set her keys in the bowl by the door and shed her coat and scarf. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked her messages. None were new.

She dialled Sarah’s number. It rang until the voicemail picked up. “Hi, you’ve reached Sarah Sanct. I can’t take your call right now but if you leave a message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you!”

Lila stuffed her keys back in her pocket and locked her door behind her.

Sarah’s door was closed, but not locked. Lila tried not to think about Adam, and she did not succeed. She knocked once, twice, and then she lost her patience.

She turned the handle, peeked inside. She had been to Sarah’s apartment before, but never so late at night. She glanced about curiously. Things are much different at night, stranger, quieter. The world is more candid.

Lila closed the door behind her.

The layouts of their apartments were much the same, but their decor differed wildly. Lila’s was utilitarian, simplistic, a study in minimalism. She had two photos in her apartment; one of her parents and her siblings, and one of him.

Try as she might, she couldn’t erase him. They’d spent five years of their lives pretending to be in love, after all. That’s not something you can vanish, Lila, people were fond of telling her. You need to remember. Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it.

She had studied her history plenty. Knew it backward and forward. She’d lived it, after all, and she refused to make the same mistake twice. She tore herself up every night over it, wounds deeper than he ever managed. Why didn’t you see it coming? Why didn’t you talk to him? Get him to talk to someone else? Why did you lose the best thing that ever happened to you?

The truth was she missed him sometimes. Missed him something fierce; the something fierce ate away at its cage made of ribs, tore at muscle, sinew, bone, ate up her heart and her soul until she was something other, something unrecognizable. Something hateful.

Something hateful, indeed, Lila thought.

Sarah’s apartment was a study in opulence.

She wasn’t rich, but the apartment looked it; the woman had a magnificent sense of style and a magic hand at haggling. There was an overstuffed couch and an overstuffed loveseat to match, and the art on the walls had to have been worth hundreds of dollars. Lila peered at a piece hung on the entryway wall. Sarah’s name was scribbled, cramped, in the bottom right-hand corner. A study in opposites, Lila mused.

She found Sarah lying on the couch.

“Oh my god,” she said blankly.

“Has she been there this whole time?” she asked no one in particular.

She breathed in deeply through her nose and snatched a blanket off the nearby loveseat. She draped it over Sarah’s prone form, reassured by the steady rise and fall of her chest and the mounting evidence that Sarah had indeed been lying there for two days or very close to it. ( That should not be reassuring, Lila, she scolded herself).

(It shouldn’t have been, but it was).

Lila felt like an intruder, a voyeur, creeping around Sarah’s apartment while her friend was asleep, especially when their friendship was so newly minted. Still, she couldn’t leave her to waste away. It would be irresponsible. It would make a terrible start to the first friendship you’ve had since Adam.

Lila had met Adam when she was a sophomore in college and he had just graduated. He had been charming, and sweet, and a little bit boring. He had been safe.  And best of all, he had been interested in a skinny wisp of a girl, a sophomore, interested in her .

And then he had a bad day. A door slammed. A plate shattered. Things escalated. Soon she was being slammed against the wall, she was being shattered. Things escalated. They escalated and escalated and escalated, until she had enough, or maybe the universe did.

Adam had a temper on him. It was an insidious thing, a subtle one. Quiet, seeping, seething. But once it had made itself known, it could not be tucked away again, could not be contained.

One night, he lost his hold on it. It was utterly unhinged, undone, a wildfire in the shape of a man. She was swallowed by the smoke. Their life together went up in ashes.

Lila shook herself, resurfaced from memory like a drowning woman coming up for air. The memory of Adam Greene seemed suddenly very distant, standing there in Sarah Sanct’s apartment. Sarah was so removed from Adam, untouched by his influence, even through the circumstances of their first meeting. Sarah was new. Sarah was part of the After.

She stared at Sarah for a moment, studied her face, considered the geometry of her being. Sarah Sanct was many things, frustrating and enigmatic foremost among them, but beautiful followed closely after. There was something captivating about the vulnerability of her face in sleep. Something magnetic.

Lila tore her eyes away.

She ventured into the kitchen. Sarah wasn’t messy by any means, but the place was thoroughly lived-in, thoroughly Sarah, and it showed. There was a calendar handing on the far wall with the next day’s date circled. In Sarah’s neat, loopy handwriting, there was a little note that read, “Bring aconite.”

“Huh.”

Lila rooted around in the pantry, and found next to nothing edible. There was a half-pound bag of rice stored on the very bottom shelf, but hardly any spices. There was a lonely take-out box sitting towards the back of the fridge.   And to think she’s been lecturing me about eating healthier!

She found frozen vegetables in the freezer. Stir fry, I guess, she thought. Lila was a fairly decent cook, but she hadn’t done much in the kitchen besides using the microwave in years.

Soon the room was full of the smell of food.

Lila lost herself in the process. Cooking was something she’d missed without realizing it--it made her head quiet. There was a sense of accomplishment that came with it; she’d created something, where there had been nothing before.

She was too distracted to hear Sarah fall off the couch in the living room, to see her stumble into the kitchen, to notice her when she sat at the counter to watch. Lila was lost in her art, and Sarah got lost in watching her. There is something beautiful about people when they're doing something they love. Something extraordinary.

Lila turned around. Their eyes met. Lila smiled.

Sarah didn't think this was the first time Lila had smiled at her. But there was something sharp about those smiles, something insincere, and this. This was different. This smile was simple and kind and happy.

There was a moment of quiet. Then Lila turned back to the stove and said, “So, do you want to tell me why I found you passed out on your sofa after two days of radio silence?”

Sarah winced. “I had a really long shift--pushing the twelve-hour mark long--and then I got home and just--collapsed, I guess? I’m a little fuzzy on the details myself…” She fiddled with her pendant.

Lila raised a single, judgemental eyebrow. “For two days?”

“I'm sorry I worried you,” Sarah said, expression suddenly grave.

Lila fought the urge to deny any worry on her part. “It had better not happen again.” She set a plate of steaming vegetables and rice in front of her and glared. “Now eat.”

Sarah did as she was told.

 Sarah woke up to the sound of a struggle.

She sat up, still half-asleep, and saw Lila. Then she saw the man behind her: a tall, thin man, a perhaps in his mid-thirties. He had a smirk on his face and a knife in his hand, and it was pressed to Lila's throat.

Sarah's bleary eyes quickly cleared.

The man saw that she was awake. "Shh," he cautioned. His voice was quiet, but it was not a gentle silence. "Don't want me to slip and slit her throat." He paused. "Again." Sarah wanted to scream. The sound died before it left her mouth. She swallowed the urge to cry.

Adam Greene's eyes were mad and wild. His smile was like a shard of broken glass. Sharp. Dangerous. "I suppose I'll have to be taking Ms. Sanct now, too," he mused aloud, turning that dangerous smile to Lila. "Can't be having her describing me to the police. That simply wouldn't do!"

Sarah's eyes darted from Greene's face to the window. It was late in the morning--the sun had risen above the city skyline. All at once the significance of the date struck Sarah. It had been a full month since she'd met Lila at the hospital. A full month since she'd found her, lying on the ground, surrounded by a halo of her own blood.

A month since the last full moon. A month since she'd let the monster out.

Suddenly she wasn't quite so afraid.

 Lila clamped down on the whimper trying to escape her mouth. She tried to catch Sarah's eye, tried to tell her without words how sorry she was. You didn't deserve to get mixed up in this, she thought.

Strangely, Sarah didn't seem all that worried. In true Sarah form, she sat perfectly still, a study in potential energy. She was serene and calm, despite the crazed man with a very long knife and a personal vendetta who had found his way into her apartment.

Adam seized Sarah's wrist and towed her and Lila to the front door. Before he opened it, he said, "I've got a gun, too. I wouldn't run, if I were you. I've been practicing."

Sarah's face remained relaxed. "I'm not running," was all she said.

Together they walked out the door, down the stairs, and into the parking lot.

Lila clamped down on the whimper trying to escape her mouth. She tried to catch Sarah's eye, tried to tell her without words how sorry she was. You didn't deserve to get mixed up in this, she thought.
Strangely, Sarah didn't seem all that worried. In true Sarah form, she sat perfectly still, a study in potential energy. She was serene and calm, despite the crazed man with a very long knife and a personal vendetta who had found his way into her apartment.
Adam seized Sarah's wrist and towed her and Lila to the front door. Before he opened it, he said, "I've got a gun, too. I wouldn't run, if I were you. I've been practicing."
Sarah's face remained relaxed. "I'm not running," was all she said.
Together they walked out the door, down the stairs, and into the parking lot.

Adam unlocked a silver car near the entrance and forced them inside. Lila forced herself to take deep, even breaths. Next to her, Sarah put a too-warm hand on her thigh. "It'll be alright, honey," she whispered. Lila wanted nothing more than to believe her. She hooked their pinkies together.
Adam drove for several miles. In the middle of the day, New York traffic was light, at least by the city's standards. They made good time. Soon they were leaving the city behind, and the land stretched on and on before them, the view unimpeded by miles-tall skyscrapers. Trees rushed by the window in a blurr.
Adam was unmoved by the scenery. He never was one to stop and smell the roses, she thought. They rode on in silence.
She remembered other road trips with him. They were much more awkward than she remembered.
Hours passed, the same stretch of road drifting endlessly into the sky. Sarah was beginning to shift uncomfortably in her seat. Lila felt listless. She stared out the window, and wondered if it counted as murder if the victim was already dead on the inside.

Finally, he pulled off the road. The uneven pavement jostled them in their seats. Lila peered out the window. The November sunlight was fading as dusk crept in; in the dim twilight, she could make out a crumbling gas station, surrounded by a derelict, weed-strewn parking lot and a colorless ring of trees. She leaned her forehead against the frigid glass.

Sarah squeezed her hand.

Adam yanked the door open, gun brandished. His hands were steady but clumsy around the weapon. All at once she knew that his posturing about his abilities with it had been just that: posturing. He was no more familiar with it than she was. The thought wasn’t much comfort.

She and Sarah squinted in the harsh light. Stumbling on stiff legs, they got out of the car. He shoved them in front of him and said, tonelessly, “March.”

Inside, the bright glare of the sun faded. The three of them stood still, momentarily blind. The main room was largely empty, with broken ceiling tiles and scrap haphazardly scattered on the floor. Adam marched them to the very center and told them, “Sit down.”

They sank to the floor together. Lila shivered. The sun was sinking behind the nearby copse of trees, and without its albeit meger warmth, the temperature was falling.

She was thankful she could feel Sarah’s breathing and her warmth where they were pressed together. She heaved a deep breath and thought, panicking won’t help anyone. Stay calm.

Adam stood less than a foot in front of her. She had to strain her neck to look at him. “Did you get my note, little monster?” he asked.

( Little monster had been his pet name for her. In the Midst of it all. She shuddered at the rush of memories it brought with it. They were a mix of fond and painful).

Lila didn’t answer him. That was a mistake. He’d always hated to be ignored.

He struck her in the temple with the barrel of the gun, hard enough that she saw stars. When her vision cleared, he had circled around to kneel in front of Sarah. She could feel blood trickling down her cheek.

“You’re sure you’re ready to die for her?” he asked conversationally. “She’s not worth it, you know. She’s going to get you killed.”

“Lila’s not getting me killed, Greene. You’re threatening to kill me. And I don’t think you’ll succeed.” Sarah shifted her weight and straightened her spine.

Adam’s face went scarlet with rage. “I do not threaten, Miss Sanct,” he said, and his word was law. “I promise. I guarantee.”

Sarah laughed low in her throat. “Promises can be broken, Greene, and there’s no such thing as a guarantee.”

Lila gulped.

Adam gave up on Sarah and crouched in front of Lila again. The weight of his gaze was a physical thing. “So, little monster,” he said. “You thought you’d be safe from me. You thought you could be anyone’s but mine. You belong to me, Lila. I own you. And isn’t it the deepest secret of your heart that you want to be owned?” he tilted her chin up with the barrel of the pistol. It’s cold steel bit into her flesh. She refused to meet his eyes.

His expression darkened. “LOOK AT ME!” he bellowed. “You’re mine, Lila Vanez. And if I can’t have you, no one can.” He stood and backed away. His finger lingered on the trigger. Lila let out a choked sob.

A shaft of moonlight flooded the room, just as the last of the sun’s rays disappeared on the western horizon. Lila doubled over. Sarah stood up.

Adam aimed for her heart. Sarah didn’t seem to notice him, or the deadly place where his shot would line up. She was enthralled with the moonlight.

But Lila noticed.

She saw his finger tighten on the trigger as if in slow motion. Through searing pain, she followed his line of sight and realized who he was aiming at.

Lila tackled Sarah to the floor.

They went tumbling together across the dusty floor of the gas station. Adam’s bullet slammed into the opposite wall. The sound of it echoed in the proceeding silence.

Sarah smiled and whispered, “Thank you. Rest now.” She sat up and laid Lila prone on the floor. Lila curled up on herself and let out a weak whimper. The sound tore out of her, the way Adam Greene’s bullet would have torn through Sarah’s chest cavity.

Adam Greene aimed again. Sarah planted herself in front of Lila’s shuddering body. She pulled a pendent off her neck and tossed it into the shadows.

And just like that, if began.

The sickening sound of breaking bones, horribly audible in the otherwise quiet night, filled the room like a physical thing. It was the sort of sound that was just as much a feeling as a noise. For the first time, Adam Greene began to worry.

He lowered the gun, transfixed by the horror before him.

Sarah stayed upright until she couldn’t anymore. Blood dribbled on her lips as her ribs shattered and punctured her lungs and healed in the space of a minute. Her spine destroyed itself and grew back one vertebrae at a time. Her face blurred, her clothes split, and thick fur sprouted all over her body, limbs still twisting in unnatural shapes. The process drew on, longer and longer, until instead of a woman, there stood a massive wolf.

The beast came up to just above his waist. Its torso was as wide around as a barrell, with thick fur like frosted iron.

Adam Greene nearly dropped his gun. He scrambled to catch it as the wolf drew closer, chest heaving. Its hackles rose and a near-inaudible snarl ripped its way out of its maw. Adam Greene backed away, feet stumbling over themselves, gun forgotten, anger forgotten.

The Wolf That Had Been Sarah advanced, muscles rippling, teeth bared. Her fangs were very, very long. Adam Greene’s back hit the crumbling wall. Suddenly he remembered his gun. He brought it up, hands trembling. The Wolf That Had Been Sarah threw back its head and howled.

Adam Greene slid down the wall to the floor. He fired once, twice--he did not get to fire a third time. The Wolf That Had Been Sarah lunged. The gun went flying. Adam Greene went limp.

The wolf turned its back on the man. She ran to Lila’s side, but Lila had vanished in much the same manner Sarah had; in her place was a wolf. 

The first wolf nudged the second with her muzzle. Eventually, its eyes opened. The Wolf That Had Been Lila got unsteadily to its feet.

Both sprinted through the open doorway and vanished into the trees.

Chapter Text

Lila woke up to a crick in her neck and a lingering taste of iron in her mouth.

She lifted her head, still groggy, and found that she was lying face down in the middle of a forest. Next to her, Sarah was still sleeping. She had twigs in her hair.

Lila sat up. Her muscles ached in protest. There was no sign of Adam Greene.

A jolt of adrenaline rushed through her at the thought. Adam, where’s Adam? She grabbed Sarah by the shoulder and shook her. “Sarah!” she hissed. “Sarah!”

Sarah groaned. Her eyes fluttered reluctantly open. “Wha…?”

“Sarah, wake up! Where are we? Where’s Adam?”

“Don’t worry, Lila,” Sarah said, still half-asleep. “I took care of it. We’re safe.”

“Sarah! What do you mean, you took care of it! Sarah! Don’t you dare go back to sleep on me! Wake! Up!”

Sarah groaned and sat up. Finally, where they were seemed to register with her. Her eyes widened and flitted from the trees to Lila and back again. “Oh dear,” was all she said.

Sarah stood up on wobbly legs. Her clothes, Lila noted for the first time, were in tatters. Looking down at herself, she realized that hers weren’t much better.

Sarah hauled her to her feet a little too hard. Lila tripped and nearly fell.

Sarah straightened up and pointed to her left. “That’s where the road is,” she stated.

“How do you know that?” Lila asked.

“Can’t you hear the cars?”

Lila listened closely and found that she could. It blended in so well with the background noise--birds just waking up, a nearby stream, leaves falling and hitting the ground--that she hadn’t noticed it until it was pointed out to her.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened last night? How did we get away?”

Sarah paused. Finally, she turned back to face Lila and said, “Alright, but you’re not gonna like it.”

They stood in the middle of a deerpath--a narrow trail snaking its way through the underbrush, worn by the animals that lived there. Lila sat down in the middle without a care for the mud. “Tell me anyway,” she demanded.

Sarah sighed and sat down next to her.

“Depending on your definition of beginning, it’s a story about Sarah Sanct.

It was a Wednesday night. I was fifteen and reckless. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided I might as well get some fresh air. I didn't think twice about it.

I stepped outside and I had scarcely got twenty feet from the house before I found myself on the ground with a wolf on top of me. It was so close to my face it was hard to see how big it really was, but it was heavy enough to fracture my ribs. 

I mostly remember the teeth. I got more familiar with those.

The last thing I remember is it leaving. It disappeared as suddenly as it came, and then it was just me...me, and the moon."

"Why are you telling me this?"

 Sarah’s mouth twitched. “My parents found me in the morning, somehow still alive. The bites healed over in a few days. I didn't even need stitches. Does that ring any bells, Lila?"

Lila remembered Sarah’s words from the first day they met--there’s some kind of animal bite on your left arm…

“I never actually saw it...it was gone by the time I got out of the hospital…”

“Mm-hm,” Sarah agreed. “My mother knew what had happened to me right away. My family has always been involved in the occult; a contagious shapeshifting curse is hardly the weirdest thing they've dealt with."

"Oh no," Lila said. "Oh, no no no. Werewolves? Sarah, are you kidding me?"

"I don't kid about this kind of thing, Lila."

"Oh God."

"Mm. Anyway, the Talent runs in the family. It's passed through the bloodline. We've had it for centuries. Which is why my mother knew what had happened, and why I survived."

"What do you mean?"

"Still-souled people can't handle a curse like this. It...breaks them."

Lila half-remembered the sound of breaking bones and the feeling of a body revolting. She shuddered at the implications of “broken.” “Still-souled?"

"That's what we call the people who can't cast--their souls are still. Magic is the direct interaction between the soul and the universe. Their souls are all bound up in their chests, imprisoned in their rib cages. A witch is made of freer stuff."

"You're saying I can do magic? Sarah, that's insane. Do you know how many times magic could have saved me? Don't you think if I could do magic I would have by now?"

Sarah smiled without moving her mouth. "I think maybe you have. You're here and breathing, aren't you? Sometimes the soul wants big, flashy things. Sometimes all it wants is a little candle flame on a cold, dark night. Magic isn't all breaking bodies and toil and trouble. It is infinite and infinitesimal." she stood up and glanced up at the sky, shading her eyes from the sun.

Lila stared up at her the way a forlorn believer stares up at a monument to her goddess--with hope and doubt in equal measure. She wasn't quite sure what to do with Sarah Sanct.

"It's a little passed noon. We should get back to the gas station. I left something of mine there." She offered Lila her hand.

Lila was reluctant to let it go. Sarah had nice hands--long, deft fingers with perfect little oval nails, short and clean. Her palms were rough with callouses, and her knuckles were beginning to split in the dry air of an approaching winter. 

“What if Adam's waiting for me?” 

Sarah looked at her. The look was so intense it deserved a capital L. Sarah Looked at her. “You're stronger than you know, Lila. That's how you've made it this far. And you'll only get stronger. No matter what happens, no matter what he tries, I'll be there for you. He won't ever hurt you again."

Lila tried to be comforted by this, but doubt lingered. Even the most steadfast devotee must put conscious effort into their faith. Loving someone is a choice a lover must make daily. 

She breathed in and out again. "What did you leave?"

“You know that necklace I’m always wearing? It's something my mother made for me. It has wolfsbane inside it. My curse is triggered by strong emotions, especially around the full moon. The pendant keeps me human, when I need the extra help."

“Oh.”

"I promise, Lila, I'll teach you everything you know. As soon as we're home. You can meet my mother, if you want. She can teach you even more than I can."

"I'd like that." Lila's cheeks were pink.

They walked in comfortable silence. Soon the gas station came into view. It looked even more dilapidated in the morning light. Adam’s car had vanished.

They cautiously ventured into the building. So had he.

“It’s okay,” Sarah reassured. “There’s a payphone out there, somewhere. I saw it when we pulled in.” She was crouched near the wall, searching for her missing pendant.

“We don’t have any money,” Lila reminded her. She stood at Sarah’s shoulder, distractedly scanning the ground.

Sarah paused. “That’s...a fair point.” she spotted a glint in the low light and let out a cry of triumph. “Got it!” she held the pendant up to the light.

They left the crumbling gas station. Lila was nearly blinded by the sunlight; Sarah blinked hard at the sudden brightness. “So what are we gonna do?” Lila asked.

“We could walk along the road until we find a building that isn’t abandoned and ask to use the phone?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The road was nearly deserted. The few cars that did pass by were in a hurry. They flew past before either girl could think to stick out her thumb.

After perhaps half an hour of walking, they found a sign for fast food in the area.

“Oh thank God,” Lila murmured. Her stomach complained audibly.

“The moon always takes a lot out of me,” Sarah said sympathetically. “We’ll eat when we can. We don’t have any money, remember?”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah.”

They trudged on in silence. 

Soon Sarah's stomach was rumbling too. She groaned and leaned her head on Lila's shoulder as they walked. Lila laced their fingers together. It was hardly anything really new--Sarah was tactile. All the same, it was rare for Lila to initiate affection like that, and it made her heart race. Sarah didn't comment. She didn't even raise an eyebrow. She just squeezed Lila's hand in hers. Both wished they were brave enough to go a little farther, but neither was. They had exhausted their supply of courage for the day. 

The roads grew less empty. Buildings cropped up on the horizon, the promised strip malls and restaurant chains.

Eventually, they stumbled into an overcrowded Denny’s. No one raised an eyebrow at the state of their clothes.

The hostess said, “How many are in your party?” in a pleasant voice. She sounded comprehensively exhausted, in the manner reserved for trauma victims and retail workers. No one ever said the two were mutually exclusive, Lila thought.

Sarah smiled. “Actually, we’d like to use your phone, if you don’t mind. We need to call the police.”

That seemed to wake her up. Bewildered, she lead them to a desk and handed Sarah a phone.

“Hello, 911? Yeah, I need to speak to the police. Yeah. My name’s Sarah Sanct. My friend and I were kidnapped and almost murdered last night. No this isn’t a prank. I’m just very well-adjusted.”

Lila wrestled the phone out of Sarah’s hand. Sometimes Sarah's sense of humor got away from her when she was tired.

Sarah gave her a hurt look.

Lila rolled her eyes and said, “Hi. My name’s Lila Vanez. I’d like to report a kidnapping and attempted homicide.”

The operator sighed in relief. 

Five minutes later, a police car pulled up outside.

Lila and Sarah met the officer at the door. He took one look at the two of them--clothes in shreds, shoes missing entirely, the circles under their eyes like bruises--and opened the car door for them. “I’m taking you to the hospital first,” he announced. “I can take your statements from there. What happened?”

“Last month, my ex-fiance tried to murder me. Last night he tried again."

The officer looked nonplussed. “I’ll need you to give me specifics when I’m taking your statement officially, but that’ll do for now. Let’s get you to the hospital.” 

Lila ducked into the car. Sarah settled into the seat next to her. 

Lila leaned her head back on the headrest. The gravity of their situation was finally hitting her. Her eyes burned. I almost died, she thought. I almost got Sarah killed, she thought. I’m a werewolf, she thought. Oh my God.

Sarah rested her head on Lila’s shoulder. She was heavy for her size; she was all muscle. She looked ashen in the dim light of the car.

By the time they reached the hospital, she was very nearly asleep.

Lila wrestled her out of the car and helped her into the emergency room lobby. “Hello, yes, I think she’s in shock,” she called to the room at large, before nearly collapsing herself.

The last things she saw were several blurry figures in scrubs rushing to catch her before she hit the floor.

When Sarah woke up, Lila’s face was inches away from hers. There was something magnetic about her coal-dark eyes. She blinked. Her vision wouldn’t focus.

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” Lila whispered fondly.

Sarah grinned. “Hello to you to,” she said. Her voice was hoarse.

“I missed you,” Lila whined. “I woke up aaaaages ago. You’ve been asleep for foooooreeeeveeeer.” She crossed her arms on the bed and laid her head down on Sarah’s thigh. She was pouting.

Sarah laughed. She’d never seen Lila pout before. “What happened? I remember falling asleep in the car and then...nothing.”

“Mm. We made it into the lobby before I collapsed. They got us in here. I woke up about an hour ago. I think the cop who brought us here is coming by to take a statement soon. A real one this time.”

“Huh.”

“Mm hm. One of the nurses told me they picked Adam up on the roadside. Said he was raving about wolves and women and moonlight. His lawyer’s thinking of an insanity plea.”

Sarah ran her fingers through Lila’s short hair. “Serves him right,” she said drowsily.

Lila’s eyes drooped. Sarah yawned.

As she leaned back against her pillow, eyelids growing ever heavier, she thought, I have so many questions. There are so many things I need to do.

Lila cracked an eye open from Sarah’s lap. She clumsily pressed her index finger to Sarah’s lips. “Shh, now. The world can wait one more day.”

And it would have to. Sleep came rushing in like the tides. Wave after wave, until the sand was smooth again.