For a moment there was stillness. Then came an onrush of sounds and impressions—the hissing groans and squeals and wheezing of a motor-car in pain, a hand on my shoulder, and a voice—familiar—Charley’s voice—saying, “Lucia? Lucia, are you all right? Are you in pain? Are you able to move?” and then scrambling noises, and the door of the motor-car being yanked open, and another familiar voice rising on a note of controlled panic—“Lucia? Charley?”—and someone undoing my seat belt. I blinked several times. The world came into focus.
“Lucia?” Charley and Matthias’s worried eyes stared at me.
I looked down at my hands. They were not even shaking. Only my insides felt like they were knocked out of place and still churning. I touched my forehead, my face. No bleeding. My head was clear but my ne
