Page 21 of The Glittering Edge

Julian looked at Corey with sad eyes turned red by the glare of carnage on-screen. “Why are you going at all? It’s no use. She’s going to die.”

He’s not wrong. If Mrs. Emberly is wearing the ward, it won’t protect her forever. The curse already has her in its sights.

After his mom died, Corey had dared to hope they might find a solution that would break the curse. But it never happened. Instead, Corey has tried to accept his reality. He’s learned to move through life doing as little damage as possible.

Because hope is nothing but a false promise.

And yet here he is. In the hospital parking lot, waiting for a chance to sneak into Mrs. Emberly’s hospital room and make sure she’s wearing the ward.

Half an hour passes, and Corey sinks into his seat. Maybe Penny won’t leave the hospital tonight. Still, Corey refuses to miss his chance,so he doesn’t turn on the car. He crosses his arms and watches the doors to the hospital, eyelids growing heavier as the minutes tick by.

Right when Corey’s head starts to bob, three figures emerge from the hospital.

The first is Naomi Salazar, her shape slight in the dark. Another is a burly man Corey recognizes from Horizon Café. It must be Ron Willis, an old high school classmate of his dad’s. And against Mr. Willis’s side, leaning on him as if he’s the only thing keeping her standing, is Penny Emberly.

Corey can’t look at her face.

They split up into two cars, Naomi getting into a rusty Honda Civic and Ron and Penny climbing into a midsize pickup truck. It isn’t until they leave that Corey grabs the bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat.

Inside the hospital, Corey waves at the guard, who sees the flowers and gives him Anita Emberly’s room number before asking if there are any open positions on the Barrion Heating & Cooling security team. He makes it to the fifth floor, but when Corey reaches room 505, he can’t make himself go inside.

The curse doesn’t leave anyone alive. Corey has never realized he’s grateful for that. It’s one thing when death is quick; it’s another when you have to see it happening in slow motion.

Corey’s chest is tight, but he makes himself go into the room.

He works quickly. First, he tosses his keys and the flowers into a chair. Then he checks Mrs. Emberly’s neck—and there’s no ward.

“Damn it,” he mutters.

Frantically, Corey searches the room. The beeping of the heart monitor and the heaving of the ventilator are as loud as screams in his ears. He checks the counter; nothing. He moves on to the closet, tearing through Mrs. Emberly’s bags, but there’s no sign of the necklace.

Aunt Helen wasn’t thinking straight; what if she misremembered what happened to it? What if the ward is lying at the bottom of Elkie Lake?

Corey is about to give up. This whole thing is making him sick to his stomach. Maybe he should go home.

That’s when something small catches the light across the room.

The ward. It’s sitting on the bedside table, glittering like it’s waiting for him.

Corey sighs, some of his tension dissipating. Slowly, gingerly, he picks up the necklace—a small crescent moon hanging from a dull gold chain.

Back when Corey’s mother used to wear the ward, Corey would run his fingers over the shape of the charm, even though the cold obsidian gave him goose bumps. The ward is always cold, no matter how warm the body wearing it.

A flash of memory makes Corey freeze. There was another moment when he held this necklace. It was near the abandoned train tracks on the outskirts of town, as a train whistle blew louder and louder, getting closer to his mom’s stalled car. He opens his mouth to yell for her—

And then the memory stops, like it’s a piece of old movie film torn at the most important scene.

Corey grasps for the details of this horrible day he can’t remember, but the image disappears like a ghost.Traumatic shock, the doctor said.Sometimes it locks up our memories and swallows the key.

Maybe that’s for the best.

Corey shifts Mrs. Emberly’s head slightly to get the chain around her neck. The dead weight makes bile rise in his throat. He looks away, fastening the clasp by feel alone, trying to avoid the tubes and the ventilator.

When he’s done, Mrs. Emberly’s head is off-center on the pillow. The angle looks painful. Corey reaches out with shaking hands and adjusts Mrs. Emberly’s head until it almost looks like she’s sleeping. Corey’s knuckles are bruised from his fight with Alonso, but for the first time all day, he doesn’t feel the pain. He can’t feel much of anything.

Something on the counter vibrates. Corey has only a second to register that someone left their cell phone.

Which means they’ll be coming back.

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