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eight

Astoria

R ubbing at my chest, I flicked through the pages Nemo added to my file.

This morning, I’d woken with a strange vibrating sensation.

My heartbeat was relentless, as if something hovered at the back of my mind, pressing and trying to break free.

But try as I might, I couldn’t recall anything of importance.

Back on Ishani duty, I laid the file across the small table in the room.

It was sparse—just an old letter, its edges decaying, nearly illegible.

The name Tempest was the only one I could make out after scanning it fifty times.

Alongside it were entries to an old diary of sorts.

Though, it was difficult to read and had to be well over a few centuries old.

A. Wylde, was about all that I could make out.

I’d spent hours on Google with no luck. The search turned up nothing useful except for a vague mention of an Oxford student’s research paper on the occult, but even that was inaccessible.

All I found was an article about the student’s work—a whisper of an unknown past that meant nothing and yet everything.

Closing my laptop, I turned my attention to Ishani, who had her tongue poking between her lips in concentration. Hannah had her sitting at the table, teaching her to crochet, and Ishani was determined to craft something.

"Ready for a break, Bug? We could try going for a walk again," I offered, trying to sound cheerful.

“I already did,” she muttered, her eyes focused on the yarn in her lap.

“With your mom?”

She rolled her eyes. "No, my nurse."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her tone sharp. "I’m skipping lunch today."

“You have to eat.”

“When I finish this.” She looked at me, brows pinched in concentration.

I sighed. “I’ll go find you something.”

She shrugged, turning her attention back to the hot pink yarn. When Ishani was set on something, there was no swaying her. Even food could not become a distraction.

I left her to her project and found Hannah behind the nurse's station, munching on her lunch. “How’s she doing?” she asked, without looking up from the novel she was reading.

“You’ve got her hooked…” I said, leaning in to look at the book in her lap.

“Pun intended?” Hannah glanced at me, a grin tugging at her lips.

“You bet.”

“Is she ready to try a bit of food?” she asked, turning another page.

I shook my head. “Nope. But she’s not irritable. Her meds seem to be working.”

Hannah shrugged. “Well, I was going to see if she’d go on a walk after lunch.”

My stomach sank.

“I didn’t get a chance earlier," she added.

“Piper must have taken her before she left,” I said quickly, trying to shake the unease that crept up my spine.

“Oh, well, it’s good to get her out of that room. I’ll call for lunch, then we can see if she'd like to make another round through the gardens.”

“Sounds good.” I rapped my knuckles on the desk and turned to leave. But as I reached for the door, something on the whiteboard in the hallway made me stop. Grim.

His name was there again, scrawled in bold black marker. I’d erased it this morning, I was sure of it. Watched the ink smear under my sleeve until nothing remained but a faint ghost of residue. And yet... there it was. Clear as if it had never left.

A flicker of dread crept down my spine.

I stared for a second too long, the air around me stretching thin and strange. Then I shook my head, shrugged off the feeling, and kept walking.

As if ignoring it would make it disappear.

“Hey, Bug…” My voice wavered as I pushed open the door.

I froze.

Ishani sat up in her bed, the pink yarn scattered across the floor in a perfect line leading to my feet. And there, beside her, was Grim. Clad in the same blue hospital scrubs as the nurses, he glanced over at me as if nothing was wrong.

And then, in that moment, Ishani’s head fell back against the pillow, her body going limp.

“No! Ishani!” I screamed, my heart slamming in my chest.

Grim vanished, evaporating into thin air, and I rushed to her side. My pulse hammered in my ears as I cupped Ishani’s cheek, my thumb tracing the smooth line of her skin. Her eyes were dull now, there was no shimmer, no spark.

The funny thing about Death— he had a tell.

After seeing so many lives end, I’d come to recognize the subtle signs. The life in someone’s eyes, the way it dulled as their time approached. You could see it.

It was a fading of color and a lack of light. Ishani’s had once shimmered gold. Now, her eyes were empty, lifeless.

“It’s almost time,” she mumbled, her voice distant, dreamy. She was no longer with me, not really. “I’m tired.”

My chest ached, and I could hardly breathe, but I forced the words out. “You’re okay, Bug. Rest.”

A small smile curled at the corners of her lips as she settled back into the bed, squeezing her unicorn close.

“You’re going to be fine.” I kissed her forehead gently, my hand lingering on the soft quilt.

But I was a liar—she wasn’t fine, and neither was I.

Sitting outside the room, my head tipped back against the bleached wall of room thirteen, I focused my attention on the small hangnail on my pinky.

The absurdity of it only fueled my anger.

The itch for a cigarette—a craving I hadn’t had in years—was nearly unbearable.

My mind buzzed with the weight of decisions I didn’t want to make, and the pressure made me reconsider the three years I’d spent in agony breaking the habit.

I could call Piper, let her know that Ishani’s warning was concerning—or just make sure she and Sanjay stayed away, in case I had to step in and do what I always feared.

The rebound of my gift was like a constant hum, a reminder of the heavy cost I bore.

It was a curse, carrying the weight of life and death in my hands.

“Elizabeth?”

I snapped out of my thoughts. Her heels clicked against the sterile tile floor, each step crisp and purposeful.

She approached with her hair neatly swept back, a briefcase in one hand and two coffee cups in the other.

She looked every bit the formidable lawyer she was—composed, poised, striking.

But she didn’t know. She couldn’t feel the way death pressed into the corners of the room like I could.

The weight of it clung to me, heavy and unrelenting.

Piper didn’t see it yet, and maybe that was the cruelest part.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, her feet coming to a stop just before me, her pointed toes brushing against my old Converse.

“Yeah, just taking a second.” I took the coffee she handed to me, sipping it absently before standing to follow her into the room.

“Has she been asleep long?” Piper whispered, dropping her bags and moving toward Ishani’s bedside.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching Piper approach her daughter with the soft reverence only a mother could possess.

“A couple hours,” I answered, my heart crawling its way up my throat as she leaned down to kiss Ishani’s forehead, brushing a stray black lock from her tanned face. The gesture was tender, but her face fell, a look of concern washing the bit of joy she’d walked in with away.

“Do you think she's cold?” she asked quietly, worry creeping into her voice.

“I had Hannah check earlier. Her monitors look fine," I lied. She wasn't fine. "I gave her an extra blanket.”

Piper nodded, tucking the blanket in where it had fallen loose.

The pain of this family’s suffering was too much. Piper and Sanjay tried to remain strong, but I could hear their quiet tears, feel the desperation in their words. Even now, after a long day in court, Piper was trying to hold herself together, but the weight of it was too much. Too heavy.

“You’re welcome to leave, of course. But if you want to hang out, I’m just going to change.” She shrugged, her words casual, but I knew better. She wanted company. Especially since Sanjay was out of town.

“I’ve got nothing going on. Go change. I’ll order pizza.”

Her face lit up, just for a second. It was enough to bring a faint smile to my own lips. She needed something normal, something that made her feel human again. I nodded at her, offering her the briefest of comforts before she disappeared into the small bathroom.

I grabbed my phone from my bag and went to place our usual pizza order. As the minutes ticked by, the soft music on hold started to dull my senses. But then it happened— that sound .

A shrill, frantic beeping.

I froze. My blood ran cold. My heart slammed into my ribs.

The phone slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor as I bolted to Ishani’s side. I scarcely registered the bathroom door flying open, Piper’s shriek tearing through the air as she emerged, half-dressed and panic-stricken.

Ishani’s body jerked, seizing violently in the bed. The monitors went crazy, beeping at an almost inhuman pitch. Piper’s voice rose in frantic pleas as she threw off Ishani’s stuffed animals.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process.

Time stretched—everything slowed—and then the monitor flatlined. The sound was deafening, like a roar in my ears.

Piper’s hands shook as she reached for the nurse call button. I didn’t think. I reacted. I knocked her hand away, my voice hoarse as I shouted for her to go get Hannah.

Without a word, she sprinted from the room, barefoot, her shirt falling over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hall.

I had seconds. Seconds to save Ishani.

I closed my eyes, my breath tight in my chest. I had no choice. I didn’t know how long it would last, but I had to…

Then, a shadow. The air grew colder and thick with something I couldn’t name but knew better than my own unchanging face. That quiet dread. The hollow tilt of the world when something is off but invisible. Silence, stretching time thin. His heavy, evasive scent sharpening the static in the air.

Grim.

A flicker. Movement without form. A presence gone before it was seen. I couldn’t see him, but I felt him, in my marrow, in the hush…

In the slow, methodical pump of blood through my body, I felt it. The unfairness.

That my thread couldn’t be severed, yet the innocent soul of the girl before me could be cut down before she'd even had the chance to live.

Tears welled, burning. I choked on my sobs just as the door slammed open with a deafening thud. Regina burst in—coat flapping, backpack still slung over one shoulder, car keys clutched like a weapon.

“Get out!” I screamed, my hands pressed down hard on Ishani’s chest. My fingertips were freezing, the sensation crawling up my arms as the gold light flared between us.

Regina stopped in her tracks, eyes wide in confusion.

“Go! Please go!” I begged, my voice broken, desperate. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Death’s presence thickened, overwhelming, almost suffocating. But with one glance at Ishani, the warmth returned under my hands, steady and grounding. A faint beep on the monitor followed by another, then a third. The beeping grew more sure, more confident.

Footsteps thundered from the hall, and right before Piper burst in, Regina crumpled to the floor, her body twisted, eyes locked in a vacant stare of pure horror. Blood seeped onto the tile, painting the cold floor beneath her.

Piper threw her arms out wide, blocking the nurses who had followed. She screamed, a sound that cracked the air.

I was out of time.

With no explanation for what had just unfolded, I did what I always did best.

I ran .

Ishani’s heart rate was strong. Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes flickered open.

I pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, grabbed my bag from the couch, and pushed past the crowd of nurses in the doorway.

I exaggerated a gagging noise, pretending I was about to faint.

They didn’t know blood didn’t bother me. Not anymore.

When the hallway was clear, I bolted for the staircase, my feet pounding against the steps. I raced down, taking the steps two at a time, the sharp pain in my shins a reminder that I wasn’t safe yet.

The heavy sound of boots behind me echoed in the stairwell. “Elizabeth!” someone called, but I didn’t dare turn around. I never looked back.

To survive this life, I had learned a few rules. Number one: Never look back.

I ran until the concrete felt like knives under my shoes, until my lungs burned, and I could no longer feel Death stalking me. Until I reached the red door, my hand shaking as I slid the key into the lock.

Still, even when the door clicked shut behind me, I knew I couldn’t stop. There were too many questions, and I had no answers. Not anymore.

My life in Seattle was over, packed into bags Nemo had prepared for moments such as this—when I had to run with nothing more than what I could carry.

In a blur, I grabbed the last of my things—my toothbrush, a lone fridge magnet—and stuffed them into my coat pocket. My mental checklist was a well-oiled machine. I didn’t need to think about it; I just had to move.

Once I called a cab, I threw one last glance over my shoulder and turned out the lights. Seattle would be left behind, swallowed up by its rain and the dark. With bags heavy on my back, a new identity burning a hole in my palm, I made my way to the curb.

Tonight, I didn’t have room for pain. Tomorrow, I might mourn what I had lost.

But tonight, I had to live .