A Vial of Life(49)

She had a coloring book propped up on her lap, and next to her was a lantern, shining light through the darkness. Her round face was scrunched in concentration as she shaded in pictures with fat crayons. She had a glass of what looked like orange juice sitting near her bare feet, along with a half-finished bowl of cereal.

So they are still here. I felt relieved. Though I hadn’t thought that it was likely River would have returned to New York while still a half-blood, there had been a small doubt at the back of my mind.

I moved past Lalia through the open doorway. The scraping of a chair came from the kitchen at the back of the house. I headed toward it and entered. Dafne and Jamil sat together at the dining table, quietly munching on breakfast.

I passed through the rest of the rooms on the ground level before moving upstairs. It was there, on the landing, that I heard her voice. River’s voice. If I’d still had a body, goosebumps would have run along my skin. As it was, the sound of River filled me with emotion. I wanted to rush to her, pull her body flush against me, and press my lips to hers. While I couldn’t do the latter no matter how much I wished for it, I hurried into the room her voice was emanating from.

There she was, sitting next to a bed where her mother lay wrapped in blankets. River’s graceful form was covered with a bathrobe, tied at her waist. Her dark hair streamed down her shoulders and it was wet, as though she’d just stepped out of the shower. I moved closer, my eyes falling upon her mother. She didn’t look well. Her face appeared more drained than I’d ever seen it, and her neck rested stiffly on the pillows.

The girl I loved brushed a palm over her mother’s forehead and said, “Corrine said the pain should be gone after tomorrow. She said your spine will be healed. You need to take another dose of her potion now.”

Her mother nodded. “Thanks, honey.”

River stood up and moved to the bedside cabinet. She pulled out a tall, glass bottle filled with a murky brown liquid, and a spoon. Holding out the spoon level in front of her, she filled it to the brim with the potion before guiding it into her mother’s mouth. Nadia swallowed, a grimace settling on her face as she downed it.

“Augh. I need water.” Nadia reached for a glass half filled with water next to her bed and chugged it down in a few gulps. She took a deep breath. “I’m definitely feeling better than yesterday anyway,” she muttered. “Whatever Corrine put in this disgusting medicine, it’s certainly working.”

There was a pause as River resumed her seat next to her mother. She drew aside her bathrobe to reveal a slip she wore underneath and began drying her hair with the robe.

“So, Mom,” she said as she rubbed her scalp, “do you still not believe in mermaids?”

Nadia coughed out a dry laugh.

River bundled the robe over her head in a turban and stood up. She leaned over the bed and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’m going to get dressed.”

River crossed the room and left through the door. I followed after her as she headed down the corridor. She took a left and entered a room next door to her mother’s. I waited outside. It was bad enough being a ghost, I didn’t need to turn into a creepy stalker as well and watch her undress.

I waited a few minutes, until I guessed that she would have had time to change out of her slip and put on some clothes. By the time I entered, she was wearing a light gray t-shirt that hugged her curves and a pair of sweatpants. She pulled out a hairdryer and sat in front of her dressing table. She paused and gazed at herself in the mirror. The dryer fell loose in her hands.

I moved closer to her from behind, staring at her reflection and wishing that mirrors could reflect my form. She breathed out a heavy sigh, her beautiful turquoise eyes traced with sadness. Instead of turning on the dryer, she planted it back in the drawer. Sliding her elbows over the dressing table, she leaned her head against her palms, her fingers reaching into her hair and gripping it, her hands curling into fists. I bent down lower, trying to take in her expression. Her eyes were scrunched up tight, her lips pressed together and trembling slightly, as if she was trying to hold back a sob.

“River,” I breathed. I laid my wispy hand on her shoulder, wishing more than ever that my fingers could close around her in even the gentlest touch.

She drew in a deep, harried breath and raised her head, once again facing the mirror. Her eyes had become full with tears, and one spilled slowly down her cheek.

She brushed it away with the back of her hand and stood up, moving to the window. Resting her palms on the windowsill, she stared through the glass over the surrounding rooftops of the Vale and toward the towering wall of treetops beyond.