She checked Yoshiro, but we all knew he was dead. When the wraith-arm had jerked out of his chest, blood had spouted across the room. I’d never get that sight out of my mind. The doctor treated William’s wound, disinfecting and stitching it, then tended Gabriel’s and Bennett’s cuts and bruises. She looked me over and tsked at my chattering teeth and jittery hands, and the blood splatter on my sweater. She offered a Valium for the shock, but I shook my head. I’d lost Yoshiro, the only person who knew how to defeat Neos. And I’d lost my newfound aunt in the most gruesome way possible. It’s called parricide, the killing of a close relative. Probably not on the SATs, but branded in my mind. I didn’t want to dull the pain; I wanted to feel it. We left the room as the doctor began performing an autopsy on Rachel. She didn’t want to move the body, as she’d never autopsied the corpse of a possessed person before. We crossed the hall into a sitting room, where we all sat in stunned silence.
