«She was sixteen when she got in that car. It's your fault,» a young but masculine voice said hotly, oddly muffled. I was getting the distinct impression that the argument had been going on for some time, but I only remembered snatches of it amid uneasy thoughts of nothing.
«You are not going to put this on me,» a girl said, her voice just as hushed and determined. «She was seventeen when he flipped her coin. This is your screwup, not mine. God save you, she was right in front of you! How could you miss it?»
«I missed it because she wasn't seventeen!» he shot back. «She was sixteen when he picked her up. How was I supposed to know he was after her? How come you weren't there? You slipped up big time.»
The girl gasped in affront. I was cold. Taking a deeper breath, I felt a surge of strength. Fewer tingles, more aches. It was stuffy, my breath coming back warm to me. It wasn't dark; I was in something.
«You little piss-ant!» the girl snapped. «Don't tell me I slipped up. She died at seventeen. That's why I wasn't there. I was never notified.»
«But I don't do sixteen,» he said, his voice going nasty. «I thought he was flipping the boy.»
I suddenly realized the black blur throwing back my breath was a sheet of plastic. My hands came up, and my nails pushed through it in a stab of fear. Almost panicking, I sat up.
I'm on a table? It sure felt hard enough for one. I shoved the plastic off me. Two kids were standing by a set of dirty white swinging doors, and they spun in surprise. The girl's pale face went red, and the guy backed up as if embarrassed to have been caught arguing with her.
«Oh!» the girl said, tossing her long dark braid behind her. «You're up. Uh, hi. I'm Lucy, and this is Barnabas.»
The guy dropped his eyes and waved sheepishly. «Hey,» he said. «How you doing?»
«You were with Josh,» I said, my finger shaking as I pointed, and he nodded, still not looking at me. His costume looked odd next to her shorts and tank top. Both of them wore a black stone pendant around their necks. They were dull and insignificant, but my eye went to them because they were the only thing the two shared. Other than their anger at each other and their surprise at me.
«Where am I?» I said, and Barnabas winced, a tall form scuffing his feet against the tile. «Where's Josh?» I hesitated, realizing I was in a hospital, but… Wait a minute. I was in a freaking body bag? «I'm in the morgue?» I blurted. «What am I doing in the morgue?»
Moving wildly, I got my legs out of the plastic bag and slid to the floor, heels clicking in some weird counterpoint as I caught my balance. There was a tag on a rubber band around my wrist, and I yanked it off, taking some hair along with it. I had a long rip in my skirt, and heavy grease marked it. Dirt and grass were plastered to me, and I stank of field and antiseptic. So much for getting my deposit back.
«Someone made a mistake,» I said as I shoved the tag in a pocket, and Lucy snorted.
«Barnabas,» she said, and he stiffened.
«This is not my fault!» he exclaimed, rounding on her. «She was sixteen when she got in that car. I don't do sixteen! How was I supposed to know it was her birthday?»
«Yeah? Well, she was seventeen when she died, so it is your problem!»
Dead? Were they blind? «You know what?» I said, feeling more steady the longer I stood here. «You two can argue till the sun goes nova, but I have to find someone and tell them I'm okay.» Heels clicking, I headed for the dirty white twin doors.
«Madison, wait,» the guy said. «You can't.»
«Watch me,» I said. «My dad is going to be so-o-o-o ticked.»
I strode past them, getting twenty feet before a feeling of disconnection hit me. Dizzy, I put a hand to an empty table as the odd sensation roared from nowhere. My hand cramped where it rested, and I pulled it away as if burned when it seemed the coldness of metal had touched my bone. I felt… spongy. Thin. The soft hum of the ventilation grew muffled. Even the pounding of my heart became distant. I turned, hand to my chest to try and make it feel normal again. «What…»
From across the room, Barnabas shrugged his thin shoulders. «You're dead, Madison. Sorry. You get too far from our amulets, and you start to lose substance.»
He gestured to the gurney, and I looked.
My breath slammed out of me. Knees buckling, I half fell against the empty table. I was still there. I mean, I was still on the gurney. I was lying on the cart in a torn body bag, looking far too small and pale, my elaborate dress bunched up around me in an elegant display of forgotten grace out of time.