“Morgan?” My father’s voice broke into my head. My eyes blink open. They stare at grey stone.
“Morgan?” his voice call’s me again.
“Dad?” Awkwardly I sit up. I don’t want to break my connection with Ash. I feel like I’m his life line.
“Morgan?” I see Dad now, he’s climbing onto the flat. “Are you okay?”
“I am, but,” I choke on the words. He sees Ash, “ My god!”
“Mike!” My grandmother. Dad drops the stuff he’s carrying.
He kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right back.” He goes and helps my grandmother onto the flat.
Grandma B takes one good look at me and Ash. “Good Lord!” She’s all nurse right now, kneeling on the blankets beside Ash. I move my hand out of her way, off his chest and to his hand. My dad’s hand rests on my shoulder.
I feel strength flowing from my Dad into me. I will as much of that strength as I can into Ash. I will him to live. I know I’m crying. Maybe I should let him die, seeing how broken his body has become, but I can’t. I don’t want to. I want to find out what that demon was and why he was fighting it. I want to get to know Ash. I want, but my grandmother interrupts my thoughts.
“Mike, I need you to get me two stout poles. We need to get this boy down from here. There ain’t a hospital for miles that will land their helicopter here.”
As soon as he’s down the hill with the lantern she turns to me. I know what’s coming.
“What the hell do you think you were doing young lady?” Her hands are on her hips. Her presence seems to take up the whole flat. “I specifically warned you not to come up here.”
“I had to!” It’s out of my mouth before I can think.
“Had to?” Her voice is stern, uncompromising.
“Ash was fighting the demon that killed mom, I had to help him. I just had to.” My last words are broken by sobs.
Dad saves me from answering that question as he comes back up. “Will these do Mrs. B.”
“Perfect.” They make a stretcher for him.
“Honey,” my grandmother’s voice is kind, “You have to let go so we can put him on.”
I don’t want to, but we can’t stay up here forever. I stand as they move him over. Something glints from the pile of ash that was the Demon. It’s a knife. Shouldn’t it have been a saber. Still I tuck it under my pants, and into my sock. I pick up my letter opener too and do the same.
“Come on, Morgan.” I stand and follow them down. It takes the three of us to make sure Ash stays on his make shift stretcher. False dawn is upon us by the time we make it through Grandma’s gate.
They place Ash on the couch. I sit by him, my hand reaching for his. I clasp it and place my cheek on it. “Please live,” I whisper before I pass out with exhaustion.