late. Sunny falls to the ground, blood seeping from a small cut in her arm. But it’s enough. The poison is already swimming through her veins.
“Rayne!” she cries, her eyes going glassy and her legs and arms flopping uselessly.
“No!” This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening! I fall to the floor, grabbing her arm, trying to suck out the poison best I can. I suck and I suck until I puke, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. Her body convulses and her eyes roll to the back of her head.
“I’m cold, Rayne,” she sobs as I pull her into my arms, rocking her close as bloody tears stream down my cheeks. “So cold.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I try. But I know in my heart it won’t be. The poison will take her, just as it stole our dad away.
And it’s all my fault.
“Rayne…” she tries to speak, but I can see it’s an effort to do so. “Rayne…”
“Shhh…” I try to shush her. “Be still.”
“You’re the best sister a girl could ever have. I love you.” Sunny whispers before closing her eyes. I watch in horror as her breath dies in her throat and her body goes limp.
“No!” I cry, trying to shake her awake. “Sunny! Stay with me!” But even as I scream and pound at her, I know it will do no good.
My sister. My beautiful, innocent, sweet twin sister is dead. Forever. And there’s nothing I can do to bring her back.
13
I can’t tell you how long I sat there in the cold, dank, dark abandoned subway tunnel underneath the skin of New York City, my sister’s lifeless body resting silently in my lap. I can tell you that I didn’t cry much at first. Not that I didn’t want to, but for some reason the sobs refused to break free from my frozen body. Instead, I mostly stared into space, into the darkness, numb with overwhelming grief and filled with wild wonderings of when the hell I was going to wake up and realize this was all some terrible nightmare. That my sister wasn’t actually dead.
Because she couldn’t be dead. That’s not how this story was supposed to go. I was supposed to rescue her and we were supposed to live happily ever after. I mean, who would ever want to read a story or see a film where the heroine dies a bloody,nasty death for a crime she didn’t commit? Hollywood doesn’t work like that.
Unfortunately, real life, I realize with a sickening thought, often does.
Eventually I manage to haul myself to my feet, dimly aware that, though at the moment, nothing else seems to matter, in truth something does. Jareth and Magnus—did they survive the attack? Are they worried sick—wondering where we are? I need to get back to them. I need to tell them what happened. If they’re even there to tell. My stomach heaves and I lean over to empty the rat blood I drank a mere hour ago, mixed with Bertha’s vile bodily fluids. It’s insane how one hour can change the rest of your life.
I want to take Sunny. I don’t want to leave her lifeless body sprawled out on the tracks, a gourmet meal for some lucky subway rats. But try as I might, I can’t manage to carry her dead weight in my arms. Especially not through the tiny crawl space we came from. You know that old sixties song “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”? Well, either that dude had some seriously anorexic brother—or he spent way more hours than me in his local gym. Finally I give up, deciding to drag her to the collapsed section of the tunnel and cover her body as much as I can with stones and debris. The best burial I can do under the circumstances.
“Dear God,” I murmur when I’m finished, kneeling down in front of the pile. I’m not a very religious person by any means, and let’s face it, God probably isn’t all that into vampires either.But for Sunny’s sake I try. “Please take care of my sister,” I whisper, the tears now falling unchecked from my eyes. I place her birthday present—still unwrapped—into her hands. “She didn’t deserve this.”
I find I can’t say
“Rayne!” she cries, her eyes going glassy and her legs and arms flopping uselessly.
“No!” This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening! I fall to the floor, grabbing her arm, trying to suck out the poison best I can. I suck and I suck until I puke, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. Her body convulses and her eyes roll to the back of her head.
“I’m cold, Rayne,” she sobs as I pull her into my arms, rocking her close as bloody tears stream down my cheeks. “So cold.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I try. But I know in my heart it won’t be. The poison will take her, just as it stole our dad away.
And it’s all my fault.
“Rayne…” she tries to speak, but I can see it’s an effort to do so. “Rayne…”
“Shhh…” I try to shush her. “Be still.”
“You’re the best sister a girl could ever have. I love you.” Sunny whispers before closing her eyes. I watch in horror as her breath dies in her throat and her body goes limp.
“No!” I cry, trying to shake her awake. “Sunny! Stay with me!” But even as I scream and pound at her, I know it will do no good.
My sister. My beautiful, innocent, sweet twin sister is dead. Forever. And there’s nothing I can do to bring her back.
13
I can’t tell you how long I sat there in the cold, dank, dark abandoned subway tunnel underneath the skin of New York City, my sister’s lifeless body resting silently in my lap. I can tell you that I didn’t cry much at first. Not that I didn’t want to, but for some reason the sobs refused to break free from my frozen body. Instead, I mostly stared into space, into the darkness, numb with overwhelming grief and filled with wild wonderings of when the hell I was going to wake up and realize this was all some terrible nightmare. That my sister wasn’t actually dead.
Because she couldn’t be dead. That’s not how this story was supposed to go. I was supposed to rescue her and we were supposed to live happily ever after. I mean, who would ever want to read a story or see a film where the heroine dies a bloody,nasty death for a crime she didn’t commit? Hollywood doesn’t work like that.
Unfortunately, real life, I realize with a sickening thought, often does.
Eventually I manage to haul myself to my feet, dimly aware that, though at the moment, nothing else seems to matter, in truth something does. Jareth and Magnus—did they survive the attack? Are they worried sick—wondering where we are? I need to get back to them. I need to tell them what happened. If they’re even there to tell. My stomach heaves and I lean over to empty the rat blood I drank a mere hour ago, mixed with Bertha’s vile bodily fluids. It’s insane how one hour can change the rest of your life.
I want to take Sunny. I don’t want to leave her lifeless body sprawled out on the tracks, a gourmet meal for some lucky subway rats. But try as I might, I can’t manage to carry her dead weight in my arms. Especially not through the tiny crawl space we came from. You know that old sixties song “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”? Well, either that dude had some seriously anorexic brother—or he spent way more hours than me in his local gym. Finally I give up, deciding to drag her to the collapsed section of the tunnel and cover her body as much as I can with stones and debris. The best burial I can do under the circumstances.
“Dear God,” I murmur when I’m finished, kneeling down in front of the pile. I’m not a very religious person by any means, and let’s face it, God probably isn’t all that into vampires either.But for Sunny’s sake I try. “Please take care of my sister,” I whisper, the tears now falling unchecked from my eyes. I place her birthday present—still unwrapped—into her hands. “She didn’t deserve this.”
I find I can’t say
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