Possess

this is my fault.”
    “It’s not.”
    Her voice cracked. “Of course it is.”
    Matt slipped his hand over hers but said nothing.
    “One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—”
    The tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned back to Sammy. His limp, lifeless body jolted beneath the force of Father Santos’s compressions. As Father Santos began another round of mouth-to-mouth, Bridget reached out and took Sammy’s small hand in her own.
    Come on, Sammy, she thought. Breathe .
    Her fingertips tingled. Not the same. It was a different feeling. It wasn’t coming from inside of her.
    It was coming from Sammy.
    Bridget pushed herself up on her knees. “Stop.”
    “—twelve—thirteen—fourteen—”
    “I said stop !” She pushed Father Santos away from her brother. The priest rocked back, his face tomato red and caked in sweat-soaked dust and grime.
    “Bridget,” he panted. “What are you doing?”
    “Bridge?” Matt said.
    She held up her hand. Slowly, she crouched over Sammy’s body, not quite sure what to do next. The tingling, the vibrations, they were coming from him. There was life inside her brother. She just needed to figure out how to spark it.
    Bridget took both of Sammy’s hands and repeated the words that had elicited the reaction. “Breathe, Sammy,” she whispered. “Breathe.”
    Her palms vibrated. There was no mistaking the sensation, no pretending that it didn’t come from her brother’s hands.
    “Breathe,” she said, louder this time.
    The vibrations pulsed beneath her grasp. It was as if Sammy’s Watcherness was only stimulated where she touched him.
    Bridget whipped Sammy’s pajama shirt up over his head, then pulled off her own T-shirt. She barely registered that she was kneeling on the lawn in jeans and a bra in front of a priest and her almost-boyfriend. Her mind was fixed only on Sammy.
    She wrapped her arms around her brother and held him tight, cradling his head with one hand. “Breathe, Sammy,” she said softly into his ear. “Breathe. I know you’re in there. I know you are.”
    Her chest and abdomen, arms and hands began to vibrate. She tucked her head into the crook of Sammy’s neck and pressed her cheek against his. The sensations were widespread, but they weren’t strong enough. Not yet.
    “You want to live, Sammy. You want to. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
    Bridget closed her eyes and concentrated on her own body while she clutched her brother to her. She recalled the feeling that she’d allowed to overwhelm her in the church, swamp her, engulf her. There had always been a catalyst before, a demon who provoked those feelings in her. But this time she was willing the Watcher to take over. It had to. She had to save her brother.
    Beneath her, Sammy gasped.
    Her eyes flew open. “Sammy? Sammy? ”
    She never even heard the sirens.
    “Matt!” Sergeant Quinn raced across the lawn. “Matt, are you okay? Bridget? Oh my God. Oh my God, what the hell happened?”
    Sammy still looked gray and lifeless, but she’d felt him breathe. She’d felt it!
    “Bridget!” Her mom slid to her knees in front of Bridget. She took Bridget’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. “My baby girl. My baby. What happened?” Her mom’s eyes drifted to Sammy’s body. “Sammy?”
    “Mrs. Liu,” Father Santos said. “Bridget did everything she could. I’m terribly sorry.”
    Her mom lifted her son’s head into her lap. “Sammy?” Her voice was calm. Too calm.
    A team of EMTs sprinted across the lawn and Matt’s hand slipped around her waist, bracing her for the inevitable.
    No one expected the yawn.
    As if someone had thrown his on switch, Sammy arched his back and stretched his arms up over his head. Color ebbed back into his face. He opened his mouth and let out a heavy yawn, then rubbed his eyes.
    “Bridge?” Sammy said, blinking his eyes open.
    “Sammy!” Bridget’s mom choked back a sob and pulled her son to her, smothering him with kisses. “My Sammy, my Sammy. Oh, thank God.”
    “Mom, stop it!” Sammy wrenched himself free and crawled over to Bridget. She tried not to notice that her mother immediately sank into Sergeant Quinn’s arms.
    “Bridget, are you asleep?”
    She smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Nope.”
    “Good.”
    “Elephants again?”
    Sammy shook his head. Bridget’s eyes almost popped out of her head as Sammy lightly placed his small hand on top of hers.