djinn wars 01 - chosen Read Online Free Page B

it felt that way to my shaky fingers. “Mom?”
    The faintest of groans. It wasn’t much, but it was a sign that she could still hear me, hadn’t yet retreated so far that she couldn’t even react to outside stimuli.
    Obviously, I couldn’t leave her here. My parents’ bedroom was upstairs, and I quailed at the thought of trying to move her all the way up the flight of stairs that led to the second story. Maybe I could just lay her down on the couch in the family room? At least until my father got home, and then the two of us could get her properly in bed. Even then I knew calling an ambulance was pointless. I couldn’t count on anyone to come, so I figured the best thing to do was to get her as comfortable as possible.
    I took her by the shoulders, and, as gently as I could, rolled her over so she was facing upward. She whimpered during this procedure, sounding so unlike herself that I felt a frightened little sob escape my throat. Luckily, she was far enough gone that she couldn’t really hear me.
    Telling myself that this was the best thing to do, that I couldn’t leave her on the floor, I half-carried, half-dragged her into the family room and then somehow manhandled her up onto the couch. The scary thing was that she didn’t even protest, didn’t try to push back against me or do anything, really. It was like moving a rag doll around — a 130-pound rag doll, anyway.
    But at last she was safely on the couch. I took the throw that always lay folded over one arm and spread it out across her. Another one of those little whimpers, as if she thought that would make her too hot, but knew she had to have some sort of covering. Then she subsided, eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling far too rapidly.
    All of the first aid supplies were in the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, the one Devin and I used to share before I moved into the apartment over the garage. After taking another look at my mother and deciding she should be okay for a minute or so, I hurried up the stairs, moving as quickly as I could without actually running. When I got to the bathroom, I opened the cabinet, took out the jumbo container of Kirkland ibuprofen, and shook a couple into my hand. I also took out the thermometer. Yes, it was obvious my mother had a high fever…but how high? Past the magic number of 103?
    I had to hope not.
    I dashed back down the stairs. She hadn’t moved, although I noticed she’d pushed the throw off her chest, down to her waist. Her blouse and skirt were getting wrinkled, but I couldn’t do much about that. Another thing my father would have to help me with when he got home.
    If he got home.
    Don’t go there, I told myself. He’ll be here. He will.
    I just didn’t know what he’d find when he eventually did make it home.
    The pills were cool in my palm. I realized then that I’d forgotten to get any water for my mother to take them with, so I went into the kitchen, filled a glass halfway, and went back out to the family room. She hadn’t moved, was lying there twitching and shaking the way Taylor Ortiz had.
    “Mom,” I said softly. She didn’t seem to acknowledge me, so I didn’t know if she’d really heard me or not. Maybe my saying her name was to reassure myself as much as it was to let her know I was there. “Here’s some water, and some pills for your fever.”
    I slipped my arm under her shoulders and lifted her a few inches, just enough so I could bring the water to her lips. Like Taylor, she drank greedily, gulping so much that I had to pull the glass away so there would be enough left for her to take the pills.
    “Okay, first one,” I told her, slipping one of the ibuprofen capsules between her lips. It just sort of sat there on her tongue, so I poured more water into her mouth. Her swallow reflex cut in, and she downed the pill without too much trouble. The second one was a little more difficult, but she did finally take it.
    After that procedure, I realized I should’ve taken