Forgotten Lyrics

5. Ameliorate

Just then the doorbell rang, a loud booming noise that echoed through the whole house.

“Never doubt your Nana,” Delia said with a sly smile. “Now get the door.”

When Lydia opened the front door, she found the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. Her long chestnut waves framed her face, and the porch light made her hair positively glisten. Thick lashes hooded her russet eyes. Her tanned skin was impossibly smooth, making her look almost unreal, like she was a hallucination or a CGI creation. The pale blue dress she wore was soaked, so it clung to her curves, and the fabric dripped water on her bare feet.

It was a few seconds before Lydia even noticed the bloody boy in her arms, and even then she couldn’t form the words to speak.

“Who are you?” Lydia asked finally, sounding far more in awe than she would’ve liked.

“I’m . . .” She seemed to hesitate, then the boy in her arms groaned, and she glanced down at him. “I’m Aggie, and I need your help.”

“Lydia, let the poor girl in,” Delia commanded.

She’d gotten up from the dining room table and was on her way over when Lydia opened the door wide enough so Aggie could come in. She had to step carefully to keep from knocking him against the door frame.

Aggie didn’t look much more than eighteen or nineteen herself, but she carried the injured boy with surprising ease. He was much taller than her, with his long legs dangling over one arm, and he appeared strong and muscular, so he had to be heavy, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Lydia, get a blanket so we can lay him down,” Delia said.

Lydia ran to the hall closet and grabbed an old blanket. When she returned, Delia had her head to the boy’s chest, listening for his heartbeat while Aggie held him.

“Do you need me to get your kit?” Lydia asked as she spread the blanket out on the floor.

Delia shook her head. “Not yet.”

Aggie lowered the boy down on the blanket. One of his arms flopped to the side, and, almost delicately, she laid it across his stomach. Delia and Aggie knelt on either side of him so they could inspect him, but Lydia stayed standing, hovering beside her grandma.

He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, but when he was out, his face relaxed, and Lydia realized that he was younger than she’d originally thought. He would probably grow up to be a handsome man, but now his features still had the softness of a boy’s.

His skin was ashen, and his lips had a cerulean hue to them. Lydia couldn’t be sure if that was because he was soaking wet and it was forty degrees outside, or if it was something supernatural.

“So, what are we dealing with here?” Delia asked, holding her hand against her forehead.