In 27 Days

by Alison Gervais

  Then I carried Rosie from the bathroom to the living room and settled her on the couch, wrapping the thick afghan draped over the arm of the couch around her. I grabbed the TV remote and turned on some cartoons, hoping they would provide a distraction for a while so I could check on Archer.

  “I’m going to get Archer,” I told Rosie. “You just stay here and watch some TV. Yell if you need anything, okay?”

  Rosie nodded, already hunkered down beneath the afghan and fully entranced in the show.

  I left the apartment door open as wide as it would go and went back down to the kitchen. I didn’t see Archer, but I hadn’t expected to. He was probably still outside.

  I decided to give it a few more minutes before I went to check on him.

  Grabbing the broom and dustpan propped up against the fridge, I got to work sweeping up the mess of glass, dumping them in the trash once I was positive I had every last piece picked up. I made a cup of tea on impulse before heading outside in search of Archer. It seemed like something Regina would do, and it was freezing outside.

  Archer was sitting on the curb beside the door, hunched over his knees, the fingers of his left hand laced in his hair. It was oddly reminiscent of the night of my first shift at the coffeehouse, except everything had changed exponentially since then.

  Archer didn’t look over as I sat down beside him, placing the mug of tea between us. I settled myself back against the wall, folding my hands in my lap. I wasn’t going to be the first one to speak. This had to be on Archer’s terms. If he was even willing to talk about it, that was.

  “You brought me tea?”

  “It seemed like the thing to do.”

  “What are you, British?” His voice was strained, but I heard a note of gratefulness in there.

  “Rosie’s fine,” I said, avoiding the subject of how he was doing. “She’s watching TV.”

  Archer remained silent as he picked up the mug of tea and tossed back a swallow. His fingers curled around the mug tightly, shaking.

  “So now you know, then, I guess,” he muttered before taking another sip of tea.

  “Know what?” I said softly.

  “That all the rumors around school are lies. Big, bad Archer Morales isn’t as scary as he seems. That he’s actually just . . .”

  “Human?”

  “Human?” Archer let out a short bark of laughter, staring over at me in disbelief. “If being human means turning into a mess at the sight of blood, then sure, by all means, I guess I’m human, then.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” I said. “Archer, people have fears. I think it’d be unnatural if you didn’t.”

  “You don’t get it, Hadley. It’s more than that,” he said with a groan, dropping his head back against the wall. “This isn’t a fear. I’m not afraid of blood. It’s me not being able to . . . to . . . It’s like going back to that night when Chris was . . . You know what? I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to explain what this is.”

  “Just try,” I said before I could stop myself. “I want to understand, Archer.”

  He got to his feet and was tight-lipped for several moments.

  “I never wanted you to see me like that. And especially not my little sister. She must hate me now.”

  I was quick to disagree. “Rosie doesn’t hate you, Archer. She just wants you to make her feel better. You’re her big brother. She could never hate you.”

  “Yeah, well, how can I even do that when I start hyperventilating from just seeing a few little cuts on her hands?” Archer’s voice was steadily rising as he turned his back to me, still clutching the mug of tea. “What’s going to happen next? Rosie’ll fall and scrape her knee, and I’ll have a panic attack because she just so happened to get a little bloodied up? Or I cut myself by accident cooking dinner one night and I pass out right in front of my mom? It’s happened before.”

  I jumped in shock when Archer suddenly yanked back his arm and sent the mug hurtling toward the side of the coffee house. It smashed against the bricks, and the shattered pieces fell to the ground like tinkling glass.

  The urge to pull him into my arms and never let go was stronger than I’d ever experienced, but I forced myself to stay still. When Archer turned back to face me, I saw that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were oddly bright.

  “Sorry,” he muttered as he sat down beside me, resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

  “Look, Archer . . .” I cautiously reached out to place a hand on his forearm, to give a comforting squeeze. “I know there isn’t anything I can say that’ll make this any better, but I think that . . . this, what you feel . . . it isn’t totally strange. What you saw that night . . . something like that won’t go away so easily. Maybe it never will. I mean, I’m not going to lie to you; I know that’s probably the last thing you’d appreciate from someone. You just have to . . . to . . .”

  I was floundering, trying to come up with something that would make sense, but I wasn’t having any luck. But there was actually the faintest hint of a smile on Archer’s face as he glanced over at me.

  “Anybody ever tell you that you suck at the whole motivational speech thing?”

  “Thanks,” I said sourly. “I’m trying my best here.”

  “Must be, if you’re still here after that little display.”

  I swallowed back the chuckle that almost escaped from me. “Maybe now you’re finally getting that I’m here to stay?

  Archer stared at me thoughtfully for a beat. “Maybe.”

  We sat on the curb in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the comforting sounds of the city all around us.

  “We should probably head back inside,” Archer said quietly. “At least check on Rosie.”

  “You’re probably right,” I agreed.

  I got to my feet and bent down to scoop up the larger pieces of the broken mug, not wanting anyone to accidentally get hurt.

  There was the sound of a car making its way down the alley beside the coffeehouse as Archer was opening the back door, and a van I dimly remembered belonging to Archer’s aunt Karin creeped its way forward and came to a stop a few feet from us.

  “Zio Art?”

  Archer looked confused as Art DiRosario stepped out of the van after killing the engine, walking over to us.

  “What’re you doing here?” Archer asked. He sounded nervous.

  There was a grim expression on Art’s face as he stood before us, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Something’s happened.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Coincidences Aren’t this Common

  Zio,” Archer pressed. “Please, just tell us what’s going on.” Art took a deep breath, finally lifting his gaze to look us fully in the face. “Your grandmother. She’s in the hospital.”

  I could’ve sworn I misheard him from how quietly he mumbled out those words, but there was no mistaking the horrified expression that took over Archer’s face.

  “You’re joking,” he said flatly.

  “Victoria had another stroke,” Art continued, getting it all out in a rush. “During dinner. They called an ambulance, took her to the hospital. And, Archer, things don’t look very good.”

  Archer took a step back, still firmly in denial. “No.”

  I passed a hand over my face, holding in a heavy sigh. This couldn’t actually have happened because Havoc had some personal vendetta against me, right? Could he really cause someone to have a stroke?

  And if Victoria didn’t recover . . . who would be responsible?

  “We thought it would be best for the kids to stay together,” Art said as I helped him unbuckle the younger kids from their car seats. “And Archer, I figured you would want to come to the hospital too.”

  Archer only nodded stiffly as he carried Gina toward the back door of the coffeehouse. I helped Georgiana up the stairs to the apartment while the others, Lauren and Carlo included, trickled along behind us. When Archer walked through the door, Rosie’s face
lit up and she promptly shouted at him. “Archer!”

  “Hey, bambina,” Archer said, heading over to the couch to crouch down in front of her. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Okay,” Rosie answered. “Hadley put Band-Aids on my hands.”

  “Well, that’s nice of Hadley,” Archer said. “I’m glad you’re okay. But, listen. Zio Art and I are going out for a bit. You’re gonna stay here with Lauren and Carlo and everyone else, okay?”

  Rosie’s lower lip began to tremble, but she nodded solemnly, as if she already knew something was wrong. Archer and Art said quick good-byes to everybody present and then made for the door. I caught Archer’s arm as he passed by me, wanting to at least say one word to him before he left. God only knew how long it would be before I saw him again.

  “What?” he said, shaking his arm free from my grasp. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye.

  “I feel like I need to . . . Do you think I could . . . Can I come with you?”

  “No,” Archer said immediately, like a reflex. “You don’t need to.”

  “Archer, please,” I said. I didn’t want to beg, but I felt like I was about to. “I’d like to make sure that Victoria is okay.”

  This was a much different Archer from the one I’d been laughing with and teasing earlier. He looked like the world was about to fall apart—and I knew when he felt like that he started pushing people away. But I couldn’t just not go with him.

  Archer glanced over at Art and Lauren and Carlo before tugging me off to the side, and then he said, “Hadley, I care about you. You know I do. But there’s no reason for you to come with me. No offense, but the truth is that you work for us. That’s it. You work for us. And this is about my family right now. There’s just too much going on right now, and I really can’t just— We have to go now, okay?”

  He turned and left without another word, only stopping to say good-bye to Rosie again before leaving with Art. The front door shutting after them echoed like a loud snap in the room. The TV had been abandoned, and everyone was staring at me. Even the little ones had quieted down and were watching me with wide eyes.

  “Hadley.” Carlo took a few steps toward me, his hand outstretched as if to comfort me. “Archer, he . . . he didn’t mean that. He’s just upset because—”

  “No, Carlo, it’s fine, really,” I said, and my voice cracked. “He’s right. I really should be getting home.”

  “Hadley, you don’t have to go,” Lauren said quickly, but I was already heading for the front door, ready to bolt.

  “Tell me how Victoria is doing later, okay?” I said before stepping out, shutting the door behind me, racing down the stairs to the kitchen.

  I snatched my jacket off the hook in the back and yanked it on, grabbed my bag, and left through the back door.

  When I signed the contract with Death, I knew this wouldn’t be easy. What I hadn’t counted on was becoming so emotionally invested. I had been telling the truth at Thanksgiving when I told Regina I felt like I was part of the family. She had become a trusted confidant, someone I could rely on, much more than just my boss or my friend’s mom. Rosie was just the sweetest little girl in existence, and I was beginning to see her as the little sister I’d never had. Even Victoria, with all of her surliness, had become a constant figure in my life.

  And Archer . . . I could never tell exactly where we stood. He was my friend, but there was something between us. Something I couldn’t let go of. The things I felt for him . . . they were frustrating and complicated, and yet at the same time, they felt right.

  Somehow, despite everything, Archer had let me in. But my time was running out now, and I wasn’t willing to step away. I couldn’t. I needed to be with Archer until my countdown zeroed out. How else could I be sure he would be okay?

  So just go to the hospital! a voice in the back of my mind screamed at me. Who cares what Archer thinks right now?

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I managed to find a cab some ways up the block and jumped in, quickly telling the driver to take me to the hospital Art mentioned Victoria had been taken to. The driver pulled away from the curb with a grunt and slipped into traffic.

  When the car finally came to a stop outside the ER entrance, I stumbled my way out, throwing a twenty at the cab driver before racing across the street. I’d jogged about five steps when I heard the sound of screeching tires peeling out on the road. I looked up to see a bright yellow sports car racing down the street, heading straight toward me.

  I barely had enough time to register the fact that I was directly in the path of the car, and then I was airborne. I didn’t feel the impact when the car slammed into me, but I felt it when all air was ripped from my lungs.

  I was sent spiraling backward only to collide with another car heading down the opposite side of the street. I heard the sound of the windshield cracking beneath my weight when I crashed into it and went tumbling down the hood of the car.

  The result was this awful bone-shattering noise when I landed on the pavement, and my whole world was spinning so violently that I could barely see. I was flat on my back, and I’d lost the ability to breathe. A feeling of icy numbness was spreading through me at an alarming rate.

  “Oh my. Looks like you got yourself into a spot of trouble, didn’t you, Hadley?”

  I couldn’t move, but I still managed to move my eyes to see Havoc crouched beside me, a wide smile stretched across his very smug face. The medical personnel from the hospital across the street didn’t seem to notice him as they ran toward me, shouting to each other in medical lingo I didn’t understand.

  It was difficult to focus on his face; splotches of black were dancing across my vision, distorting his features. I wanted to scream, but all that came out was this choked, gasping sort of noise. I felt blood staining my lips.

  “To be fair, I did warn you,” Havoc said, patting my cheek. “I tried to tell you what would happen, but you didn’t listen.” He released a dramatic sigh. “Oh, well. I suppose you’re going to get your wish now. You’re going to die the tragic hero, and maybe, just maybe your friend Archer will live. You can never really know what someone’s thinking, can you? Such a shame. Say hello to Death for me, won’t you?”

  CHAPTER 30

  A Culmination of Events

  When I was old enough to understand that death was inevitable, I wanted it to rain the day I died. It seemed symbolic somehow, washing away anything bad and dark about life and beginning anew. But it didn’t rain as I felt myself being pulled under, at least as far as I could tell. I wanted to stay conscious, to prove to Havoc he couldn’t beat me, but I was tired of trying to fight my way to the surface. Everything was beginning to fade away. And that was when I knew death was truly inevitable—not in sixty or seventy years but right at that exact moment.

  It wasn’t painful, like I thought it would be. It was easy, like falling asleep. I felt so much better when my eyes closed, knowing I didn’t have to open them again.

  The last thought that floated across my mind before it all came ticking to a stop was that if I had to die so young, then at least it was in the place of the people I loved. That had to count for something.

  CHAPTER 31

  In Between

  You’re going to have to wake up sometime. C’mon, kid. Wake up.”

  I wanted that voice to shut up. Before it had started talking, I’d been relaxed. Calm.

  “You can’t stay asleep for much longer, Hadley.” The voice was moving closer, somewhere above my head. “Wake up.”

  I let out an aggravated sigh and cracked open an eye, ready to shout at the voice, only to let out a shriek and bolt upright when I came face-to-face with Death.

  “Death? What the—” My breath caught in my throat as I looked around, attempting to recognize where I was. “What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Where . . . is here?”

  I was sprawled out on the floor of an enormous, cathedral sized room. The walls were white, the ceiling was white—everything was white.
>
  “Take it easy, Hadley,” Death cautioned. “You’re fine.”

  I looked down at myself. I was wearing the same jeans, long-sleeve shirt, and jacket I remembered putting on that morning.

  Except my shirt was ripped all over, my jacket was hanging off me in tatters, and my jeans were torn. And they were covered in blood. The patches of my skin I could see were bruised, and it looked as if I had been burned in some places from where my skin scraped against something. But nothing hurt. That was what frightened me the most.

  “Death, I . . .” I looked up at him, the words catching in my throat. “I’m . . . Did . . .”

  Death said nothing as he took a seat beside me on the floor, stretching out his legs in front of him.

  I waited anxiously for him to say something that might give me an idea as to what had happened to me. His face was an expressionless mask.

  “Death . . .” Tears started to splash down my cheeks without my control. “I’m . . . I’m dead. I’m dead, aren’t . . . aren’t I?”

  Death nodded once. Something like pity might’ve flashed in his eyes for a second before it was gone. “Yes.”

  I’d been warned about the consequences of messing with time, and I knew trying to help someone who clearly didn’t want to be helped would be difficult, but this wasn’t something I could have ever prepared myself for. I never thought I would wind up dead, no matter what Havoc threatened me with.

  I had saved Archer—I hoped. But I had lost the people I had come to know as my family. My friends. My parents. Archer. Everything.

  I forced myself to take a breath, gritting my teeth as a fresh wave of pain crashed over me. The emotional kind, not physical. I was not expecting this to be what would hurt the most—the what could have been.

  Part of what influenced my decision to sign the contract in the first place was because of all the things Archer unknowingly threw away. He needed to realize the importance of what he was giving up, even if he thought it wasn’t worth it. What he’d done had been a permanent solution to a temporary problem. His pain wouldn’t have lasted forever. Nothing ever did. I wanted Archer to know that. I needed him to know that.