NOT LIKE THE OTHERS

FIRST PAGES OF CHAPTER 1

RESURRECTION

Death was patient. Amaya was not. And it was time for Lily to go.

Death clung to the woman’s body; sticky, stale, and unapologetic. End processes were well on their way already, and by Amaya’s professional estimation, Lily would let go and join the other side within the next day or two. However, if Amaya did her work as effectively as Death did theirs, the woman would die tonight. She’d wait until the woman’s family left for the night, though.

Hospice care had come easily to Amaya during her rotations in nursing school, so that’s where she’d ended up for the past twenty years. There were other reasons she was drawn to it, but it had been a relief to discover she truly enjoyed it. So long as Amaya relocated often enough to avoid detection, ushering the old and infirm to Death’s doors was Amaya’s calling, and there was never a shortage when it came to employment opportunities. No matter where she went, people were always dying, and people were always looking for hospice nurses.

Amaya had been working at Genesis Hospice Center for nearly five years now, and had cared for dozens of patients who came through these doors, but Lily was different. Amaya had felt a pull towards the young woman immediately, and had requested this patient assignment every shift for nearly a month. She’d watched the decline happen just as it did with everyone else in the end, but Amaya couldn’t shake the feeling that this one in particular needed her help.

Crossing the room silently so as not to bother Lily’s grieving parents who sat in chairs at her bedside, Amaya pulled the drapes back further to let in the last remnants of daylight. When Lily gasped and sputtered, ragged breath seeming to rip through her esophagus before rattling back out into the barely-there rhythm of moments before, Amaya willed her racing heart to slow its pace. Her skin tingled, and bumps rose in response to the shift in energy. Thanks to decades of practice, Amaya’s features remained neutral, betraying none of the reaction on her face. The vital energy was undeniable, but its vibrancy was unlike anything Amaya had encountered before—foreign despite its familiar swelling, like the ocean preparing to crash ashore. It took more effort than usual to hide her eagerness.

If she could save Lily, she would, but that’s not how Amaya’s power worked. Amaya could only take life, not restore it. Though she didn’t fear Death in the slightest, being that they were essentially symbiotic at this point, Amaya inhaled greedily, filling her lungs as if to show Death only one of the people in this room would be going to the other side tonight. She may have had a couple hundred years yet before they came for her, but it didn’t hurt to make the point.

Uncomfortably tempted by Lily’s ebbing vitality, Amaya headed for the door. She’d committed to only feeding out of duty, not desire, so it was time to leave and get some fresh air.

“I’ll be at the desk if you need anything,” she whispered.

Lily’s parents nodded but said nothing as Amaya made her way out of the room, closing the door with a soft click. When she turned around to head for the nurses’ station, Yuuki ran straight into her, stumbling back. Amaya’s hands flew to catch him, gripping his arm so he wouldn’t fall.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, straightening his lanyard. “Damn, your reflexes are amazing, Abbott!” Amaya chuckled nervously, wiping her hands on her scrubs as he shook his head with his typical dramatic flair. “I just came from Mr. Sherlin’s room, and he’s in a mood tonight. It’s gonna be one of those shifts, I think.”

Amaya collapsed into one of the rolling chairs behind the station’s main desk, ignoring the ringing phone. “Yeah, mine have all been quiet, but Lily’s getting close, and her parents are having a hard time.”

“I bet.” Yuuki took the seat next to her, reaching for his room temperature coffee. He winced as he took a sip of the sludge but made no comment on it. “It’s always hard, but especially when the patient is so young. She’s about the same age as you, right?”

Not exactly. “Yeah. Just a couple months apart.” More like a couple decades. Amaya was older than Yuuki, who just celebrated his 43rd birthday in March. Amaya had listed her birth date as November 1st, 1999 when she’d filled out the paperwork for this job. Nobody here needed to know that it was actually November 1st, 1979. “I think her parents would have preferred an older nurse. I’m pretty sure looking at me just makes them sad. Like their daughter and I could switch places or something.”

“Ouch.” Yuuki leaned back in his chair. “We can swap if you want. We both know Mr. Sherlin would rather you do his bath than me.” He tried valiantly to hide his smirk, but failed.

Amaya punched his arm. “Yeah, no thanks. You can keep him. I’ve already got one gentleman who thinks I’m his late wife. You’d think at 92 they’d have learned to keep their hands to themselves.”

“I seriously hope I’m not doing that kind of stuff when I’m old.”

“You’re in your forties,” Amaya noted with a mischievous grin. “Some might say you’re already there.”

“It’s so weird that people consider me an adult. Like, my generation is supposed to be the one in charge now?” He grimaced. “My body definitely lets me know that I’m aging, but my mind still hasn’t caught up, I guess.”

“I feel you,” Amaya said, opening Lily’s file on the computer to take notes.

“Um, I doubt that.” Yuuki laughed. “You’re what? 25? Come back to me when you’re 45 and then we can talk.”

Lily’s parents exited her room, bloodshot eyes on full display, and Amaya did her best to hold back her own tears at the sight. Death was a part of life, and it was something she’d come to accept, but it never made it any easier to witness the grief of those saying goodbye to their loved ones.

“Thank you,” the father said. “We’ll be back in the morning.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.” Amaya stood to nod goodbye at them both.

Lily’s mother nodded wordlessly, head bowed, purse clutched against her chest. Amaya watched as they walked through the double doors and out to the main lobby entrance, releasing her breath only once they were out of sight.

“I’m gonna go check on Lily. She’s due for meds.”

“Sounds good,” Yuuki said, draining the remaining contents of his paper cup. “I’m gonna get a refill. Want anything while I’m at the cafeteria?”

“No thanks. Ask again in a few hours.”

Yuuki lifted his cup in farewell, and Amaya slid back into Lily’s room. The sun had fully set now, but the courtyard lights outside the window would have provided enough illumination for the small room, even if Amaya hadn’t already possessed the gift of heightened sight. The hairs on her arms lifted as she stood beside Lily and reached for the IV tubing, fingers searching for the connector with one hand as she reached into her scrubs pocket for the syringe with the other.