I grabbed for her. The fingers of my hand—my goat-bitten hand—went through the doorway, and it tingled. My wrist, though, passed through and it hurt like fire. Well, most of the times I’ve gotten burned, fire only hurt later once the nerve endings started growing back or whatever. This time, it hurt immediately like how fire hurts later. I got ahold of her jacket and yanked back.
She fell on top of me. She stopped screaming.
If she was breathing, it was too faint to hear.
FOUR
She was alive. I found her pulse easily enough.
“What the fuck,” Brynn said.
“What the fuck,” I agreed.
We dragged Heather back into the office. Brynn ran back into the hallway and I heard her phone snap a photo. She slammed the cursed door shut.
“Found our fucking magician,” I said, as I worked the office window open. Brynn shut and locked the office door.
“Doomsday,” Brynn said. “She’ll know what to do.”
I climbed out the window, Brynn handed me Heather, and we ran for it. We couldn’t lock the window behind us. We couldn’t grab our bikes. Brynn put Heather into a fireman’s carry and we made for a side street just as a 1950s pickup truck roared down the main street and skidded to a halt out front of the building. I didn’t think he saw us.
“Don’t die,” Brynn said as we ran. “Don’t die don’t die don’t die.”
* * *
Doomsday met us at the front door of the library, and we ran up the steps. I was just as out of breath as Brynn, and I didn’t have one-hundred-some extra pounds of friend thrown over my shoulders. I swept dozens of books off the table, and Brynn laid Heather down atop it. I told Doomsday the gist of what had happened.
“You got a hospital in town?” I asked as Vasilis came up after us.
He shook his head. “Nearest one’s about an hour east. We’ve got a little emergency clinic, though.”
“Won’t do any good,” Doomsday said, as she inspected the patient. “It’s not physical damage. It’s metaphysical damage. That green fire, it’s called witch’s fire. Rebecca mentioned it once. Burns the . . . not the soul. Imagine that you’ve got a second body, a metaphysical body. The bones of that second body, that’s your soul. Witch’s fire burns away that second skin, the membrane that protects the soul. It’ll kill you as sure as being flayed.”
“We’ve got to try to reverse the damage,” Vasilis said. “We’ve got to regenerate that second skin.”
“No,” Doomsday said. “Too dangerous. Just need to soothe the burn. Keep it from getting infected while it heals itself.”
“That could take years!” Vasilis shouted. “I’ve been studying this a decade. Half of what you know, you learned here, today, reading from my collection.” He rose to his full height. Everyone freaks out a little bit differently. Vasilis, apparently, freaks out by trying to dominate people. He wasn’t winning me over.
“And she’ll be in a coma the whole time,” Doomsday agreed.
“We have to do this now,” Vasilis said.
Doomsday looked thoughtful. I was going to back her whatever she chose. That was an easy conclusion to reach.
“She’s your friend,” Doomsday said at last.
“She’s my everything.”
The two of them, together, prepared the ritual. Vasilis was the teacher, Doomsday the student. It was sort of bizarrely elaborate, complete with ringing the floor with herb-infused salts and washing Heather’s nude body with oils.
Brynn and I stayed out of the way, watching from a couch in the corner. Brynn was folded in on herself in worry. I held her.
Vasilis chanted, in Greek and English. A supernaturally bright red flush moved across Heather’s skin in the wake of his hands as he incanted. By the look on his face and the sweat beginning to form on his brow, it wasn’t working. After a minute maybe, Doomsday joined him. She too looked desperate.
I heard a crack as Vasilis’s hands jerked into an unnatural position. He fainted, crumpling down onto himself and the floor.
Then Heather screamed. Then Heather died.
* * *
Vulture and Thursday came back that evening, before Vasilis came to. Doomsday had briefed them over the phone shortly after it happened, but I imagine it was still quite a shock to walk into the apartment. Heather was laid out on the table, still, with a sheet covering everything but her face. Vasilis was passed out on the floor in a fetal position. Doomsday was pacing. Brynn was sobbing. I was holding her with my good hand. My wounded hand, the hand the goat had bitten, the hand that hadn’t been burned by the witch’s fire, I didn’t let it touch her. I was afraid of my own hand.
“What did you find?” Doomsday asked the boys. She put on the kettle for tea. Sometimes it was unclear if that woman was capable of expressing emotion.
“I guess . . .” Vulture said. “I guess that still matters?”
“Matters more than ever,” Doomsday said. She wasn’t wrong.
“We found their car,” Thursday said. “Pushed into a lake close to the trailhead. Vulture found the tread marks in the dirt, even six months later. I wouldn’t have noticed them. I dove in and found the car.”
“And?” Doomsday asked.
“And it’s a sunken car,” Thursday said. “That’s it. That’s all. No skeletons. No backpacks. Just a fucking car.”
Vasilis stirred. Brynn and I jumped up and helped him to his feet, then to a chair. Doomsday set the tea in front of him. Maybe she hadn’t been as callous as I’d assumed.
“We are going to talk about this,” Doomsday said, kneeling on the floor in front of his chair.
“Let me be.”
“If I leave you alone right now, you may never emotionally recover from what’s happened.”
“I don’t care.” Methodically, he pulled on his mangled hands and worked them back into place. I’d never seen anyone injured like that, and I’d never seen anyone
