Healer's Magic

by Teagan Kearney

  She avoided thinking about the presence she'd sensed in her sacred space yesterday. Could she say for sure the creature, whatever it was, was malevolent? She'd been aware of and hadn't liked his deliberate interest in her. Usually, her premonitions occurred as impressions; a montage of frozen scenes from a movie. They were rarely accompanied by any emotion. Yesterday's visitation was unusual.

  Tatya disliked her premonitions. In her experience, they hardly ever indicated good things were about to happen. They were cautionary and far too vague to interpret before the incident in question. But she'd had them often enough to learn that she ignored them at her peril.

  How someone had penetrated her sanctuary was a question she relegated for later. She pushed the premonitory image, eyes the color of a bright summer sky, hair the blaze of a winter sunset, out of her mind. Thankfully, no goose bumps today. Tomorrow, she'd visit Changing Sky and get his thoughts on the matter.

  Tatya pulled up in front of the house, braking with a spray of gravel. As she collected the groceries from the back of the car, she thought about the long list of chores building up at an alarming rate. Aunt Lil would never forgive her if she let the place go to rack and ruin, so she'd tackle the cleaning before gathering the items needed for this afternoon's healing session. Just because she'd not been successful in helping her aunt so far, it didn't mean she would stop trying. In her book, doing something was always better than doing nothing.

  The phone rang as she shouldered the front door open. Dumping the bags on the floor, she answered, thinking whoever it was should have had the decency not to call till she'd put everything in the kitchen.

  "Hi, this is Healing Herbs." She dredged up her professional phone voice. "How can I help you?"

  "Ms. Rourke?"

  Tatya did her best to sound obliging. "Yes, this is Tatya Rourke. How can I be of assistance?"

  "This is the hospital, Ms. Rourke. We are sorry to inform you your aunt has taken a turn for the worse. We advise you come to the hospital as soon as possible."

  Her blood beat so loud in her ears that, for a second, she couldn't hear anything else.

  "I'm on my way." Slamming down the phone down, she sprinted back to the car, turned on the ignition, gunned the car out onto the main road, and narrowly missed a passing car. She slowed, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. She'd be no good to anyone if she wrapped the truck around a tree.

  Tatya took the route avoiding the town center, only running one red light, and squealed to a stop in some doctor's empty parking place near the hospital’s front entrance.

  "Miss! Miss! You can't park there," the security guard shouted as she dashed past him.

  She panicked when she saw the empty bed in the women's ward. No. It couldn't be.

  Alice Franklin, sitting up in her bed, her cheeks pink, waved at her. "They've moved her to a private room," she called out to Tatya, pointing upward. "Two floors up. But she's fine."

  "Thank you, Alice."

  Alice's 'thank you, too' floated in the air behind her. Five minutes later, she stared through the window of a room at Aunt Lil lying with her eyes closed, wired up to half a dozen machines.

  A nurse bustled toward her. "You must be Ms. Rourke's niece?

  Tatya's empathy told her the trained sympathy in the woman's voice was genuine. Being able to detect when someone lied was useful sometimes. Other times, it was better not to know.

  "What happened? She was fine yesterday afternoon. Is she going to be all right?" Tatya swallowed. Keeping her emotions under control wasn’t easy; the thought of losing her one living relative skewed her world into a shape she couldn't envision. She blocked off that trail of thought as a tingle of power flickered through her hands.

  “Doctor Mellior is in his office, and he'll answer your questions."

  Tatya hadn't seen the good doctor yesterday, and after this latest alarm urgently wanted to speak with him. "Yes, that'd be great."

  Doctor Mellior's aura was dark olive green. Most people involved with healing had auras in shades of green, from emerald to the dark blue-green of the sea, but the good doctor's was olive, shot through with spiking red streaks. The man was tired and stressed, overloaded with cases, and angry at being unable to give his patients enough attention.

  "Your aunt isn't a young woman anymore, Ms. Rourke."

  Tatya swallowed her retort. Nothing like stating the obvious.

  "It appears your aunt has had a minor brain seizure. We've run several tests, and have more to do before we can make a clear diagnosis."

  "Is that why she collapsed in the first place?"

  "I regret to say that we've not been able to identify the reason. Blood pressure, exhaustion, overwork; there are any number of reasons why an older woman might faint."

  Tatya observed more red spikes flickering in the doctor's aura. He saw patients as puzzles to be solved, and this case frustrated him. Tatya threw up another barrier. She had to focus; she didn't need the distraction of other people's emotions.

  "She's out of danger and is resting. I'm afraid the medication makes her sleepy, but you're welcome to wait till she wakes and see for yourself how she is."

  Tatya thanked the doctor and left, wondering if their health insurance covered the cost of a private room. But she'd worry about that later. Aunt Lil's welfare came first.

  Sitting in the armchair by Aunt Lil's bed, listening to the whirr and beeps of the machines, she turned over the doctor's words. Her aunt was getting older, yes, true, but exhaustion? Overwork? Nope. The man might be a doctor, but he didn't know her aunt’s determination. Fit and strong as a horse, she had never let ill-health get in the way of doing what she wanted, when she wanted. No way did the doctor's description of an elderly, ailing female represent the woman she knew and loved.

  Tatya had tried healing her aunt before, to no avail, but she had to do something, and if there was any chance of improving the situation, she'd seize it. Releasing her shields, she examined Lil’s aura. No doubt about it. Her aunt's relapse had dulled her aura to a sickly yellow, scored with thick, dark spines.

  Tatya stood and closed her eyes, breathing deep till she was calm. With palms barely touching, she rubbed her hands together; pulling on her power till a band of bright white energy flowed between her palms. She moved her hands apart, concentrated on maintaining the correct level of energy, and positioned them on either side of her aunt's body. Expanding the channel to her power, she reached inside herself and sent wave after wave of healing energy into her sleeping form. She kept going till she dropped with exhaustion, collapsing back in the chair and closing her eyes for a minute to recover.

  "Tatiana." She started in her chair. The soft caress of his voice resonated as if recognized, but the memories dissipated into thin mists before she could grasp hold of them. Then she realized who was speaking. Vanse. She had no doubt if there were any connections with Vanse, she'd remember. She refused to analyze her reactions to him. He'd never had, and never would have, any attraction for her; he repulsed and disgusted her.

  "You tire yourself for nothing."

  "Leave me alone."

  She saw Sean hovering outside the room, too nervous to come in and speak to her.

  "This illness of your aunt doesn't respond to your healing, does it?"

  Tatya stroked Aunt Lil's limp hand, touching the calluses on her palms. Before her collapse, she'd begun helping with a lot of the ground work that had been Sean's responsibility.

  "That should tell you something. Read the signs."

  What was he saying? This sickness wasn't physical?

  "It is wise to prepare yourself for the worst."

  Tatya glared at him. The picture of Vanse drinking from her aunt's neck, his mouth red with blood, sprang to mind.

  "I give you my promise—that will never happen."

  Was he reading her mind? He held up his hand. For a vampire, his skin tone was an unusual bronze color.

  "Your defenses are weakened, and normally I can't, but right now, I can read your
thoughts. To put your mind at rest, I give you my word, neither I, nor any of my people, will ever taste a drop of your aunt's blood."

  Did he expect her to thank him? She closed her eyes and summoned her shield. It rose, but more sluggishly than usual. Damn him. He was right, she was weak. She should be more careful.

  "If the worst does occur, I can turn her. Then you will never lose her."

  As if he'd flipped a switch, everything slowed, and a blinding white light burst from her hands, striking him in the chest and throwing him against the wall. The machines beeped faster; an alarm went off at the nurses' station, and footsteps pounded along the corridor, but her rage burned hot, and she flung another bolt of energy at Vanse. He raised his hands to deflect the strike, but moved too slow. Her power blasted him in the stomach. He lay on the floor, panting, and stared up at her. His eyes shone with a mixture of fear and exultation.

  "Tatya! Tatya!" She heard a voice as if from a great distance. Someone was shaking her arm. It was Sean. She tossed him off; his newfound vampire strength was nothing against her will.

  He crashed into the door, stunned.

  Suddenly, she was unable to move. While she’d focused on Sean, Vanse had gotten behind her and held her in a tight embrace, pressing her arms close to her body.

  "Calm yourself." He loaded his words with glamour, repeating them over and over, till her mind made sense of the sounds he was making. Power still erupted, slowing, sparking on the hospital floor. Tatya sagged against him.

  The nurse on duty rushed in and took the patient's pulse before she examined the machines.

  "She's fine. Sometimes these machines give off false alarms, but we have to make sure."

  The woman hurried out, not appearing to notice the way Vanse was restraining Tatya.

  "Let me go. I'm fine."

  Vanse lowered her into the armchair and pushed her hair back off her face. She didn't have the strength to resist.

  "Sean, get a strong black coffee, plenty of sugar. Quick."

  "How are you out in the daytime? Don't you have to wait till it gets dark?"

  Vanse smiled at her. Even for a vamp, his looks marked him as unique. A straight aquiline nose, deep brown eyes; if he had a soul, she'd have said their expression was soulful. Golden tanned skin. How did he manage that? And the lean hardness of all vampire kind gave him a symmetrical beauty she found hard to ignore.

  Sean pushed a plastic cup into her hand.

  She sipped the hot liquid, a machine brew not worthy of the name, but containing enough caffeine to do the job of re-energizing her. The drained, washed-out sensation retreated, but uneasy questions at the thinning barriers between her emotions and her power lingered. A crawling prickle at the edge of her mind acknowledged if they'd not been vampires, she might have killed them. She didn't want to think about that, nor the source of the blind fury that had engulfed her.

  "Go home and rest, Tatiana. The nurses will phone you if your aunt's condition changes. She is stable for the moment and in good hands."

  She hated to admit it, but he spoke the truth. The thought of a cup of spiced sage and mint tea and crawling into bed was appealing.

  "I will keep watch myself." For some odd reason, that comforted her.

  "Okay. I'll phone later to check."

  "And try to subjugate your irrational fears," he threw after her as she left. She didn't dignify his remark with an answer.

  Tatya passed Sheriff Corwin and his trusty sidekick as she crossed the hospital foyer. They nodded to each other, but for once she was relieved he was too deep in conversation to stop and chat.

  Chapter Four: The First Strike

  Tatya's sleep had been deep and dreamless. After the amount of energy she expended blasting Vanse and Sean, her overloaded brain had shut down, needing the time out to process her emotional and psychic outburst. When she woke, her memories of the incident were vague, and she pushed it out of her mind, not wanting to think about Vanse or her actions.

  She spent the morning on the phone, asking her network of friends and colleagues if they'd come across anything unusual. Most hadn't, but a few on the sensitive end of the empathy spectrum sensed an uneasy stirring in the ether but reported nothing more than a vague foreboding.

  Visiting the hospital in the afternoon, she found her aunt was awake for short spells but continued to drift in and out of sleep. After yesterday's debacle, Tatya decided to abandon her planned healing ritual for the moment, fearing she might do more harm than good. Maybe after she'd visited Changing Sky. She smoothed her aunt's hair back from her forehead, marveling at how sleep eased the worry lines on her face while leaving the laughter lines intact.

  Please… please heal, she prayed, holding her aunt's limp hand, willing her to recover.

  The nurse had told her Aunt Lil was out of danger, but there was little improvement in her condition. When she asked how long before her aunt would be moved back to the women's ward, the nurse said arrangements had been made for her to stay in a private room. Tatya was pretty sure their insurance didn't cover this; she'd been too disturbed yesterday to ask, but the nurse seemed confident everything was in order. She accepted the information, making a mental note to check up on it at some point. Being hit with a huge hospital bill would cripple their finances, but she put it quite far down her list—a list that was getting way too long.

  Back at home, she pushed her anxieties out of her mind, and focused on getting ready for Sheriff Corwin's meeting at the police station. She pulled a clean sweater off the shelf, banging the door shut on the mess at the bottom of the wardrobe. She chose a light brown color that would slide under the radar in a police station; a good move when more than a few cops had decided you were nothing but a sham and a waste of the police budget. The aim was to look respectable, yet not draw unnecessary attention.

  Corwin had mentioned there'd be a few people there, and he'd like her general input. At least that's what he said. What he meant was he wanted her to scan the group and see what she could pick up. Tatya's telepathic abilities were minimal, and there were others in town more capable, but he trusted her. Her empathetic talent had proved invaluable in more ways than one when they worked together.

  She dragged a hairbrush through her undisciplined curls. Short was how she preferred to keep it, but without Aunt Lil to carry out the monthly trim, it, along with the housekeeping, dropped off her priority list. The current length meant she was constantly pushing it out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ears, irritating her no end. Wearing it in a ponytail was the next best option, but it wasn't long enough yet. Hair clips worked, more or less, but she was always losing them. Yet that ability to find things so valued by Corwin, had little potency when used for items she mislaid.

  Tatya studied her reflection in the mirror. She would have to do. Her slender build often fooled people into thinking she was fragile, but that was a mistake. She'd always been active and excelled at running in high school. In college, she'd added mixed martial arts and tai chi, but her studies interested her more than reaching the competitive level at any sport. She'd kept up her running until recent events changed her life, but still went through her katas when she remembered and had the time—lately it wasn't that often.

  She had to get on top of the cleaning, she thought, flicking a glance over the floors as she ran down the stairs. Ramming her feet into her best boots, she grabbed her coat and keys and stood for a moment, listening. The living energy that pervades a house full of life was absent, instead, a heavy quiet filled the space. No loud country rock came from Sean's room, and Aunt Lil's radio, with its disembodied voices wafting from the kitchen, was silent. She left quickly.

  The desk sergeant, a pal of Corwin's gave her a big smile, lessening her annoyance at having to park in the one empty space at the farthest corner of the visitors' lot. He directed her to the upstairs conference room. This discussion must be more important than Corwin had let on over the phone. Talks with Corwin usually meant standing in his cramped office with half
a dozen others, while she wondered if the enormous, precariously balanced piles of paper on his desk ever decreased before they toppled to the floor.

  "Come in," Corwin bellowed in response to her knock.

  Apart from Corwin and his new sidekick, the junior officer from the other night, she was the first to arrive.

  "Tatya, meet Deputy Bellamy. Bellamy this is Tatya Rourke."

  Bellamy stood. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am,"

  Up close, Tatya could see Bellamy was a good-looking young man, with the creases on his uniform looking sharp enough to cut. He made an excellent foil to Corwin's Columbo-style scruffiness. He offered a firm handshake while she mumbled the usual happy-to- make-your-acquaintance noises.

  "Tatya, here on my right." Corwin pulled out a chair and she seated herself. "I'd appreciate it if you could observe and just note any unusual reactions to what I'll be telling them."

  "Okay. What will you be telling them?"

  Corwin didn't answer because the door opened and several police officers filed into the room. Tatya nodded at Jane Smith from vice, Burton from the drug squad, and two others she knew from previous visits to the station. All wore the expressions of people who saw wrongdoing, from petty thievery to the most abominable of crimes, every day of their working lives. Yet they went home and came back for more. Somebody had to.

  Three men and one woman in smart black suits entered and sat at attention; one opened a laptop, the other two had notebooks at the ready. You didn't need to be psychic to win a bet they were FBI. Eleven altogether. Plus one empty seat.

  "Make yourselves comfortable, everyone, while we wait for…" Corwin's sentence went unfinished as the door opened and in strode Vanse.

  "Please take a seat, Seigneur Vanse."

  Tatya's eyes widened. Why was he here?

  "Gentlemen, let me introduce you." Corwin continued, ignoring the looks on the faces around the table. "For those of you who aren't aware, Seigneur Vanse is the overlord of the vampire enclave in the whole of our county. Before any of you voice your opinions, he wouldn't be here if we didn't need him."