On Concord Street, the porch light was still on, glowing in the weak dawn light. We climbed the front steps in a little huddle, like we were reluctant to be too far away from each other.
I tried the knob, but it was locked, and I had to lean against the porch railing for a second to stop the world from spinning. Then I pushed myself away and rang the bell.
When Emma opened the door, she took one look at me and threw herself into my arms. I was bloody, covered in mud. It was all over everything, drying on my coat, streaking her face and hands, and she didn't let go. She looked like she'd been crying for a year.
Inside, my dad was pacing the kitchen, raking his hands through his hair. My mom sat patiently at the table, clasping her hands on the tablecloth like she was waiting for him to stop.
When we gathered in the doorway, they both looked up. My dad's expression was a mix of shock, confusion, and relief, mostly relief. My mom looked like she was about to pass out, and I was more aware than ever of how gory I was. Emma clutched my arm and beside me, Tate and the twins looked like something out of a war documentary. Roswell was the only one relatively unscathed. His expression was alert and quizzical, like he'd gotten there by accident.
My dad stood on the other side of the table, staring at me. At all of us. "Are you badly hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?" His voice was husky and I smelled the sharp, rusty smell of anxiety.
I shook my head, leaning forward and bracing my good hand on the table. "Some of the blood's not mine."
He nodded and passed a hand over his eyes.
My mom was staring at Natalie, who was awake now, holding Drew around the neck and looking dazedly around the kitchen. My mom went to her, taking Natalie's face in her hands, staring into her eyes.
Then she let Natalie go and turned to me. "You did this? You took her back?"
I didn't answer. It hadn't been me. Or at least, not by myself.
"You went down there just to bring her back?"
I nodded. The next question was going to be, Why did you do something so incredibly dangerous? or, What made an insane risk seem like a good idea? And I didn't want to talk about that part. The reality of how indifferent I'd been to the world, how much I'd stopped caring in the weeks before meeting the Morrigan was just starting to sink in.
I opened my mouth to cut her off, but the truth must have been there on my face because she didn't wait for an answer. She crossed the kitchen and hugged me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You came back," she whispered. "You could have disappeared forever, but you came back."
It felt weird to be standing in the kitchen, hugging her. She wasn't the kind of person who cried or hugged, but she didn't let go.
"It was a brave thing," she whispered, clutching the back of my jacket. "A very brave thing."
If I was honest with myself, I hadn't been particularly brave. I'd just done the dirty work and the desperate things and then closed my eyes and hoped for something to work out. That wasn't being brave. But it was nice to know that she thought so.
I went up to the bathroom and washed off the worst of the dirt and the blood. There were still claw marks all over my neck and down one side of my face, but the gash in my hand was already closing, the edges drawn together by the power of Janice's green paste. If it kept healing, it would be gone in another few hours.
In the mirror, my reflection looked white and exhausted, half dead, but my eyes were brown instead of black, and half dead was still more than barely alive.
Emma was waiting in the hall when I opened the door. Her shirt was streaked with dirt and the dark plummy smears of my blood. For a second, we just stood in the upstairs hallway, looking at each other. Her face was exhausted.
"What did she say to you?" she asked, draping my arm around her shoulders so that I was hugging her.
I pulled her against my chest and thought about what my mom had said, this thing that was so mysterious and so rare. "That she was glad I came back. She hadn't thought I'd come back."
"What she meant is that she loves you."
"I know."
Emma smiled. "I do too. But you knew that."
That made me smile too and I squeezed her so hard she yelped. "Always, crazy. Always."