102

Lennon laid Ellen out on the grass, her pale face turned skyward. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. He pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his. Her chest rose as he blew gently then fell as he took his mouth away. As he blew again he scrambled for the prayers his mother used to recite. This time Ellen coughed as the air escaped her. She gasped as she pulled more in, her back arching for a moment, then coughed again. Her eyelids fluttered but did not open. Her chest rose and fell of its own accord.

He put his ear to her heart and heard it beat, pressed his cheek to hers, let her warmth meld with his. The last of his strength faded, and he collapsed to the grass beside her. He rolled onto his back and took her hand. Her fingers twitched between his. Fire leapt from the mansion’s upper windows. He knew grief lurked beneath the surface of his consciousness, but fatigue kept it submerged. It would have to wait.

Smoke curled up into the blue. Crows circled through it, cawing their alarm to one another. The sirens came closer, but he never heard them arrive.