Chapter 2: Blue Lips Under the Cellar's Flickering Bulbs
I kept two fingers beneath Lily’s nose and watched the fine hairs of her breath move against my skin. At first, nothing came steadily. There was a pause, then a shallow pull, then another pause long enough to make my hand tense. The flickering bulb above us brightened the blue at her lips and then let it fade into shadow.
Her dark hair lay across her cheek. I brushed it away and saw the faint movement beneath her ribs. It was small, but it was movement. I waited through the next breath without lifting my fingers. The stuffed rabbit remained trapped against her chest, one worn ear pressed beneath her chin. Its cloth fur was damp where she had held it.
The pink inhaler case rested open beside my knee. I could see the empty space where the dose had been taken and the remaining medication secured inside. I did not close it. I kept one hand near the case and the other near Lily’s face, afraid that shifting either one would cost us time.
Leo stood on the lowest step, his black overcoat nearly touching the stone wall. He had not come farther since kneeling near Lily. One hand held the iron door wide, preventing it from swinging inward. The open doorway showed a strip of polished marble beyond and the cold light from the hall. He watched Lily’s chest, then my injured cheek, then Lily again. His authority filled the narrow cellar, but it had nowhere useful to go. He could keep the door open. He could watch. He could wait.
Lily’s fingers moved against the rabbit.
I leaned closer. Her hand tightened around its body, then loosened. A dry sound caught in her throat. Her eyes did not open. I placed my palm lightly against her shoulder and felt a tremor pass through her uniform.
The next breath came deeper than the others, but it broke into a cough. Her body curled around the stuffed rabbit. I steadied her without lifting her from the stone floor. The cough came twice more, thin and painful, and then stopped. For several seconds, only the bulbs and the faint movement of the iron door filled the cellar.
Leo shifted his grip on the door. The hinges complained as the weight moved, and a narrow band of darkness changed along the threshold. He looked toward the hall as if measuring whether someone was there, but no one entered. Then he looked back at Lily.
I checked her breathing again. The pauses were shorter now. Her ribs rose, settled, and rose again. The blue tint had not disappeared, but it no longer seemed to deepen with every second. That was all I could trust. The danger had changed shape; it had not left.
Lily’s eyelids fluttered. Her mouth opened around another rough breath, and her fingers dragged the rabbit closer. I slid my hand beneath its back so it would not fall away from her. Her eyes opened only a slit, unfocused and wet. She turned her face toward the light from the doorway, then toward the pink case near my knee.
I kept the case where she could see it.
May you like
Her breathing faltered again. I raised my free hand, ready to steady her, while Leo held the iron door open behind us. The cellar remained cold around our knees, and the steps above remained clear. Lily was awake enough to react, but not strong enough to carry herself out.
I watched the next breath begin.
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