Locking my hands together, I rose onto my knees and thrust the heel of my hand down onto Hyacinth’s chest, beginning to count the rhythm in my head. I’d never performed CPR on a person before, and while I was confident that I knew what I was doing, I also recognised the creeping heaviness of futility spreading through my body. But I had to try. I couldn’t just sit back and let Hyacinth die, knowing there was something, anything, I might have tried. I couldn’t live with that.
“Stop it!” Somebody shrieked. “Get off her!”
My rhythm faltered, and I found Pansy, teeth bared, eyes wild, glaring back at me.
“You’re hurting her!”
“I’m helping her,” I muttered, trying to return focus to my beats. “I’m trying to help.”
Thirty. Despite Pansy’s continued arguments, I pinched Hyacinth’s nose, blowing two deep rescue breaths into her mouth, before returning to her chest. I’d barely managed a full compression before an arm wrapped around my neck, dragging me away.
“Leave her alone!”
The arm released me, and I tumbled to my arse, blinking up in shock. Pansy, for once, towered over me, glaring down at me.
“Stop hurting my mother!”
“Pansy, I would never! I’m trying to save her life. I know it doesn’t look nice, and it’s not, but if I can keep her blood moving through her body, and get her breathing again, if the paste works…”
If. So much depended on if.
“Please, Pansy. Let me try.”
My friend's lip trembled, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in my arms, to squeeze her and let her cry, but that could come after. Right now, her mother needed me. Maybe the calm, reassuring mask I’d spent the past few years perfecting slipped to show exactly how dire this situation was, or maybe it did its job exactly as intended, because Pansy’s face crumpled, and she gave a nod of assent.
“Hold her hand,” I said, trying to inject some gentleness into my tone. “Speak to her. Let her know you’re there.”
“She can hear me?”
“Of course she can.” I didn’t know if that was true, but what harm could a little white lie do now?
By the time I sank down beside Idris, surrounded by silent, watchful faces, my limbs had begun to shake. My arms trembled as I resumed chest compressions, and Pansy’s voice drifted through the silence.
“Mother, it’s me, it’s Pansy. Can you hear me? Everything is fine. Aliza and Sage have fixed you up. All we need is for you to wake up, and then we’re going home. Come on, Mother. You can do it. I know you can.”
I tuned her out, fighting against the tears welling in my eyes. I narrowed my attention to my sickeningly bloodied hands, to counting. Thirty compressions, two rescue breaths. Thirty compressions, two rescue breaths.
I repeated the cycle over and over, until my own breaths were harsh as they burst from my mouth, until my shoulders ached and my arms trembled. Then I repeated it some more. I lost count. I had no way of knowing how long I’d been working, but I knew the mantra. I couldn’t stop until I was exhausted, or until help arrived, but this wasn’t my world, and no help was coming. We were alone.
Eventually, Pansy’s imploring mutterings turned to quiet sobs. I tried not to notice when she curled up on the ground beside her mother, clutching the older witch’s hand to her chest. I tried not to notice that the other witches had begun to turn away, that some were crying. I tried not to notice that, despite my best efforts, I was slowing, my body betraying me. Every pump was weaker, shallower than the last. A sob burst through my clenched teeth.
“Aliza.”
A large hand settled between my shoulder blades. “Aliza, it’s time.”
No. It couldn’t be. Yet though I knew it was, I still couldn’t stop. I couldn’t be the one to quit.
The hand slid around my shoulder and down my arm, closing firmly, preventing my next compression. I didn’t have the strength to fight. Another sob shattered from my tight throat.
“It’s alright.”
It wasn’t. How could he not see?
I blinked through my tears at Anwir. He released my arm and pulled me to his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady in my ear, an awful reminder that, beside me, Hyacinth was dead.
Dead.
I had let her die. At the thought, I began to dissolve, drowning in guilt and disbelief.
“We need to move.”
It took me three full seconds to make sense of Sage’s words. I disentangled myself from Anwir’s arms. Sage looked, for the first time ever, lost. Unsure. Her whole body trembled, and her face was a sickly shade of grey. Wet streaks spilled down each cheek, but despite it all, she held her head high as she gathered her control. Of us, and of herself.
“This is it,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “We need to reach the border. We’re out of time. Pansy… say goodbye to your mother. It’s time to go.”
I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t prevent it as Pansy’s terrible, animalistic wail howled through the gathering dark. In the seconds since Anwir had pulled me away, she’d half laid herself over Hyacinth, her head nestled beneath her mother’s chin. Now she clung to her, her whole body heaving with sobs.
“We can’t leave her,” I said, even as I thought of Meadow, the first witch to die, torn apart by wolves, and left behind as we fled. This was different though. This was my friend’s mother.
“She will only slow us down.” Sage spoke with no room for argument, but her voice cracked, betraying the emotion she held at bay.
Idris stirred, snagging my gaze. He’d been at my side throughout my failed attempts, but he’d moved away since, maybe to allow Pansy whatever shred of privacy we could give in these God-forsaken woods. Now, he prowled close once more, crouching, and muttered words I couldn’t hear.
After a moment, Pansy released her mother’s body, clambering stiffly to her feet where she was immediately embraced by Hazel, but it was Idris I watched.
Watched as he scooped up the dead witch as effortlessly as though she was a child. He rose, turning to Sage, his face set with challenge.
Was it my imagination, or was that a glimmer of gratitude on Sage’s face?
