Pulse, pulse, rest.
Pulse, pulse, rest.
Pulse, rest.
By the time the police and ambulance arrived, I’d draped myself across Caleb’s chest, whimpering because sobbing hurt too much.
Voices circled around me, but I didn’t hear them. Instead, I heard a beat. It wasn’t strong, but it was there. Another beat. And another. Someone put their hands on my shoulders. I wanted to shake them off, to keep my ear pressed to Caleb’s chest, but I was too weak to put up a fight. They pulled me off of him, making me cry out in pain as my ribs shifted. Two people lifted me up onto a stretcher.
“He’s alive,” I croaked. It was part question part statement.
“Yes, he is,” the EMT at the head of the stretcher said. “You help with that?”
“Yes.” The word came out a sigh.
“Good girl,” she said.
I let my lids close, too relieved to keep them open any longer.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Mickey searching my face.
“So,” he said, his eyes drilling into mine, “you resuscitated your brother even though you sustained two fractured ribs.”
“One fractured, one bruised,” I corrected. Although the doctor had first thought the bruised rib was actually a halfway-healed fracture…about three weeks old. But that was impossible.
Mickey shook his head. “And your brother continued to improve after that.”
“Wait a second here, you’re fishing,” I said, accusation staining my voice. “You’re turning your questions into statements so that you don’t have to use your second question and give me my turn.”
Mickey shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry, habit.” Mickey leaned back into the driver seat, considering. “What has your brother’s recovery looked like?”
“Really? Why do you want to ask that?”
Mickey opened his mouth to reply, but I beat him to it. “Never mind! Ignore that—it wasn’t a question, just an expression.”
“In question form—”
“That I take back!”
His mouth twitched into a smile. “Fine. But as for your answer to my question…”
“Um, yeah. Well, it’s like I told you. At first, I thought he was dead—or at least close to it. But Caleb had a heartbeat when the ambulance came. Deena gave me updates about him while we were in the hospital. He was in the ICU at first, but after a few days, they moved him to a normal room. He never came out of a coma, though.” I paused. "He was making progress, though, and they were hoping he’d come out of a coma in a few days, but once I left…” I swallowed. I still felt like I’d abandoned him.
“Once you left, he stopped improving,” Caleb finished for me.
I nodded. Caleb had just stalled. “But he’s not getting worse,” I added. “Deena says he’s still stable.”
“So, he stopped healing when you left.” Mickey spoke slowly, as if he was hoping he got it right—that I wouldn’t add anything that would make his statement any less true.
“Yep.”
Mickey smiled at me for the first time all day, his expression lightening to where he seemed even younger than he already was.
“Why does that make you so happy?” I asked. Because it honestly made me feel like crap. I should be with Caleb right now. And if I was, maybe he’d be doing better—somehow.
“If that’s the question you want to ask—”
“No, wait!” Mickey grinned at me as I glared back at him. “Just so you know, I do want to know, but there’s other stuff I need to know first.”
Mickey just kept smiling. I ignored him as I sifted through the past twenty-four hours, selecting only the most important questions.
“You’re fae,” I said. “And everyone around here is fae. And there’s magic. And I’m part of this somehow even though I’m not fae.” Questions kept whirling around my mind along with snippets of conversation.
“What, in detail, is the investiture and my part in it?”
Mickey exhaled. “That’s a two-part question.”
I was back at wanting to wring Mickey’s scrawny neck. The fact that I had to shake out every last bit of information was getting old fast.
“Fine. What is the investiture?”
“It’s where the fae crown the next queen, bestowing on her all the hereditary powers to which she is entitled.” He paused before adding, “And then some.”
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a raised hand.
“My turn. Before everything happened with your—your father” —he tripped over the word as if it was hard to get out— “did you find that your bruising healed at a faster pace than it is now?”
Weird questions, but easy enough. “Yeah. Normally, they’d be gone by now.” I shrugged. “Next question: what are fae? I mean, I get that you guys have magic, but other than that, I’ve got nothing.”
Mickey gave me a look that called into question my intelligence. “What are fae.” His voice deadpanned.
“Hey, it’s not like my dad read me fairytales or anything. You gotta cut me some slack.”
Mickey shook his head. “The fae consist of numerous magical races. Here,” he said, waving toward the car window, “we mostly have elves, pixies, druids, some gnomes, and a few water horses. Elves are able to access more magic than all of the other races, which makes them the natural rulers of the fae.”
“Wait, elves like the ones on the cookie box or in Lord of the Rings?”
Mickey rolled his eyes and opened his mouth.
“No, don’t answer,” I said, holding my hands out in front of him.
He smirked. “It was my turn anyway. Do you normally have more energy than you do now? And by that I mean do you usually take naps, sleep in until the afternoon if permitted, get tired throughout the day—that kind of thing?”
“You sound like a doctor,” I said, a smile pulling at my lips. Mickey smiled right back at me, waiting. I thought for a bit before saying, “Yeah, now that you mention it. But that seems normal, though. I mean, I’m still healing and all.”
“Of course,” he said. But I got the sense he didn’t agree.
“Now about the
