Page 2 of The Last Lost Girl

Moonlight spreads over Belle as she turns to face me.

I take another step, watching her as closely as she watches me, but Belle does not move. Her chest doesn’t even expand and contract with breaths, so I slowly creep closer. Her head tilts to the side predatorily.

She won’t hurt me.

Another step. She won’t.

Belle would never. But the shadow would.

Under its shade, with little light, my sister has withered. But withered is not broken, and it certainly isn’t dead. My sister is not dying tonight.

The moon is full and high. Both of her shadows spill over the concrete ledge and into the pebbles below, one as mild and translucent as anyone else’s, the other as thick and viscous as tar.

I force my ribs to relax a fraction and take a deeper breath. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“You would have tried to stop me,” she complains.

“Where would you go at this hour?” I ask, trying to keep her mind busy as I creep forward, inch-by-subtle-inch…

She gives me a look that tells me she knows exactly where, and that I should know, too.

“You have time yet. You don’t have to rush,” I argue.

Tears flood her eyes and splash onto her cheeks. “It’s past time,” she insists. She hugs her middle and turns back around, muttering, “I believe. I believe,” over and over. She refocuses on the sky and lifts her arms again.

“Belle –”

“No!” she barks, barely turning her head this time to make sure I hear that she’s done arguing.

That’s when I know in my marrow that she means to do it. I cannot talk her off this ledge, so I must rip her off it.

I take off in a sprint. The pebbles that coat the rooftop spray like shrapnel behind me, even as they attempt to slow my effort. Her nightgown snaps in the wind that kicks up again. She bends her knees and leans forward.

Moonlight carves the planes of her calves just before she springs, but I’m there, curling my fingers tightly around the back collar of her nightgown. I yank her back hard, banding a hand around her waist, and grunt as I break her fall.

Belle bucks and shrills so loud my ears ring, then frees herself by flipping onto her belly. She claws toward the ledge as I scramble onto her back and pin her down.

She twists. Kicks. Tries to push herself, and me, up. Curses me soundly.

She pretends she’s given up and when I make no move indicating I’ve fallen for her trick, begins to thrash again.

Despite her petite frame, she’s incredibly strong. Unfortunately.

Just then, the roof’s metal door screeches, startling both of us. We crane our necks to the sound and see two police officers rush toward us, flashlights bouncing over our faces and forms. I mutter a curse a second before I’m torn off Belle and pulled several feet away ‘while we sort this all out.’ I pray she doesn’t hurtle off the edge before they restrain her.

My lip is split and swollen where she got me with an elbow. I laugh as the cop hauls her to her feet and slaps a pair of cuffs on her dainty wrists.

two

Cuffs slap my wrists a second later and Belle’s colorful curses make the officers pause, which is surprising, because I bet they thought they’d heard it all until now. Apparently, Belle just set a new bar.

I can’t help but smirk as I revel in this temporary victory, even as my sister’s bloodshot eyes meet mine, accusation and despair melding within the golden striations.

But you’re alive, my gaze shouts back.

I know my sister has two shadows. I know she is… other. But she doesn’t have wings. If she had leapt from the ledge, she would have plummeted to the sidewalk and died.

Belle says she’s not immortal ‘in this place’, but I’ve always wondered if there is another place where she might be. I wish she would tell me about what she is and where she came from, but broaching the subject only earns sharp, distrustful glances – like the one she’s shooting at me now.

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