Everafter Series 1 - Everafter Read Online Free PDF Page A

long.”
    “Do you have any idea who did this?” Alexa asked. Her tone was beseeching.
    “No, ma’am. Not yet. But we’re working on it.” Foster regarded me intently. “Can you tell me what happened?”
    “I wish.” I swallowed again in an effort to draw some moisture into my parched throat. “I can’t remember anything about Tuesday. Nothing at all.”
    The detective nodded. “You were found on Canal Street, near the Manhattan Bridge. Any idea why you might have been down there?”
    “No. I can’t think of any reason.”
    When she sighed in clear frustration, my hands clenched into fists. I wanted to help, damn it. How did she think I felt, unable to put the pieces of my own life together?
    “When you go out, what do you usually take with you?”
    I frowned at the change in approach. “Wallet, keys, and cell.”
    “It seems likely that this was a mugging, then. We didn’t find anything on you.”
    “I already canceled your cards, sweetheart,” Alexa reassured me, reaching over to hold my hand again.
    “There’s been a rash of very violent muggings over the past six months.” Detective Wilson spoke up for the first time, his voice a smooth baritone. “The other victims…haven’t pulled through.”
    A sudden wave of exhaustion blindsided me, threatening to pull me under. The adrenaline was fading. My eyes closed involuntarily.
    “I want to remember. Just…can’t.”
    “I understand,” Foster said.
    It felt so good to hide from the light. My head hurt less. Her voice sounded far away, as though I were underwater.
    “Please give me a call if you think of anything, remember anything.”
    I tried to open my eyes, but couldn’t. “I’ll be sure that she does that, Detective,” I heard Alexa say. Then, footsteps. A door closing. Quiet.
    “Tired,” I mumbled. “Alexa.”
    “I’m right here, love,” she said. She squeezed my hand again. She was so warm. “I’m not going anywhere. You sleep.”
    The darkness behind my eyes was tinted with streaks of red. I knew they were the lamps in my room, filtering through the thin skin of my eyelids. They didn’t look like lights, though. They looked like blood.
    Thirsty.

Chapter Three
     
    “Does it hurt, love?” Alexa asked from behind me as I limped slowly up the stairs toward our apartment. Despite the help of a cane on loan from the hospital, I had to momentarily put weight on my bad leg each time I ascended another step. Whenever I did, it felt like someone was twisting a jagged screw under my skin. I was already nauseous and sweating, and I had half the stairway left to go.
    “It’s not too bad,” I said.
    “Just take it slow.”
    I fought back a retort about how I couldn’t exactly do much else. Alexa had barely left my side for the past five days. She had braved hospital food, sleeping in a chair, and my mother’s nastiness to be there for me. She didn’t need me snapping at her. So I ascended slowly, painfully, focusing on how good it would feel to be home.
    When I finally reached the landing, I was shaking. Sweat was dripping into my eyes and off my chin. Alexa carefully reached around me to unlock the door and push it open, and I gratefully stepped inside.
    A brittle cracking sound stopped me in my tracks. Puzzled, I looked down. They littered the floor, shriveled and deep, deep red—almost black. Rose petals.
    I remembered.
    I remembered kissing Alexa good-bye as we parted ways that morning. I remembered hurrying out of my Anatomy class and immediately heading uptown, toward Tiffany’s. I remembered holding the ring in the palm of my hand and watching its diamonds glitter. I remembered blasting my cheesy 80s music playlist while making fettuccini. I remembered realizing, early in the evening, that I had neglected to get champagne. I remembered descending the stairs, walking out into the crisp night, shoving my hands into the deep pockets of my leather jacket…but afterward, nothing. Nothing—like a light switching off in a