“Miriam?” My hands go to the body, but the limbs—the two that are left—are cold. I don’t believe it. It’s not her. She wouldn’t be this foolish. She wouldn’t. Please God, she wouldn’t. I flip the corpse over, trying to wash away the sight of the soft, feminine limbs. Most of the body has been blown away, but there’s some skin remaining around the neck. My eyes move to the throat, to the holy scar at its base.
I mean she has to come back to life
