Healer's Touch
Page 34
The Syakaran woman who happened to be right around the corner of the hallway.
“Oh!”
“Oh, indeed.” Karlani folded her arms. “Llew, isn’t it?” She looked Llew up and down. “No accounting for taste, I guess. But he doesn’t have to settle now I’m here, does he?”
Llew felt her cheeks grow warm. The woman had quite suddenly lost all her shine and, just as suddenly, Llew felt an immense drive to fight for Jonas’ right not to be paired with her. She drew herself up taller.
Karlani smiled. “Do you honestly think you have what it takes to keep him satisfied? He’s Syakaran. He needs a Syakaran woman.”
Llew fought down the urge to agree.
“He needs a woman as . . . vigorous as he is.”
Llew said nothing.
“He needs someone he can run with.” The woman ran a speedy circle around Llew, demonstrating the superior speed of her race. “Someone he can . . . play with–” she sped around Llew again “–without the fear that he might break her. I heard you’re not even Kara.”
“That’s right.”
“Then whatever made you think you could have him?”
Llew resisted the urge to say “Because I already have.”
“That’s right, little girl. Leave the big boy to a real woman.” The woman did another super-speed circuit around Llew. “And we’ll–” Whisk “–get on–” Whisk “–just–” Whisk “Ugh!” Karlani hit the floor.
Llew lowered her fist, stepped over the woman and carried on to her room to take that bath.
* * *
Llew lay in the water, her mind churning.
Anya had been right – the conflict between Aenuks and Kara ran deep. And with what Jonas had told her about what happened to his parents, it was a wonder he hadn’t stuck his knife in her the moment he learnt what she was. She’d told Anya what Braph had seen, that he’d watched while Jonas considered ending her life. Anya had said it further proved the affection Jonas had for Llew. That he had been tempted was a sign of his loathing for her kind. That he hadn’t gone through with it showed that he recognised her as someone special, someone he couldn’t lump in with all those other Aenuks he hated.
Part of Llew wondered if Anya just saw things how she wanted to see them. She wanted Llew to be as happy as she was with Gaemil.
She might have told Anya what Braph had seen, but she hadn’t told her what he had done. What she had let him do. How could her body betray her like that? And now she’d gone and asserted her right to Jonas over that Syakaran woman, and she didn’t even know if she could bring herself to . . . to . . . even think of . . .
She couldn’t even name . . . it. Oh, gods, she felt as prudish as Anya.
Her mind was so busy struggling through these thoughts that she didn’t hear the knock at the door.
“Llew?” It was Jonas.
“It’s unlocked.”
The door clicked and he stepped inside.
“You alright?”
“I’m fine.” She turned her head to try to see him, but he still stood at the door.
“The water ain’t steamin’.”
“Oh. Yes. It’s not hot any more.”
Jonas came to her and crouched by the bath, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re freezin’.” He stood up, grabbed her towel and came back to her. “Come on.” He held the towel for her to step into.
Llew got up, water streaming off her with most of it landing in the tub and some hitting the floor and making little puddles. Jonas wrapped the towel around her shoulders and pulled her to him, supporting her as she stepped from the tub.
“Why were you still in there? The water’s cold.” He rubbed the towel over her vigorously.
“I guess I was waiting for you.”
He stood back to look her in the eye and she suddenly felt shy.
“Last time I had a bath in this room, you interrupted me, and, well, I thought that . . . ”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I might interrupt you again?”
“I’m scared.”
He pulled her into an embrace. He hadn’t yet resumed wearing his knife vest and his heat poured through his shirt. “You remember when Braph attacked, how he used his magic to make me seize up? Well, it weren’t just my body I lost control of. My mind . . . I saw my life flash past. Everythin’ from my childhood, to the day my parents died, Aris claimin’ me, meetin’ Kierra, findin’ out she was with child, losin’ ’em, meetin’ you . . . And I realised somethin’.” He swallowed and his arms pulled her tighter. She almost couldn’t breathe, but she said nothing. “I realised that nearly every memory came with a lot of pain and loss. My folks. My family. Even my brother. I mean, he’s alive, but I lost him years ago. But every time you appeared, there was no pain. There was only you and, I can’t explain, but while everythin’ else was chaos, if I thought o’ you, if I fought to keep you in the front of my mind, it didn’t matter what he was doin’ to my body. All that mattered was you.”
It took several moments for Llew to realise he’d stopped talking. “Oh, damn it, I’m making you wet.” She brushed the damp patch of his shirt, as if she could somehow dry it with damp fingertips.
“Did you hear me?” Jonas pushed back and dipped his head to get a look at her eyes.
“I heard,” she said, absently brushing imaginary fluff from his shoulder. She’d always fought for what she had. What she wanted didn’t come and deliver itself to her. The top button of his shirt was loose. Llew could just see a hint of the big black tattoo beneath; the tattoo Braph didn’t have – at least, she’d never seen it on him, but he’d never been topless in front of her; the tattoo that was a symbol of all Jonas was, his family, his race, his country: a symbol of him. She slipped her fingers inside the shirt, tracing that little bit of ink that she could see.
He pulled his arms from her and loosened the next button, letting her explore further. Her towel, no longer held firm about her, fell to the floor.
“Oh, what did you do to Karlani?” he asked, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. “She was cryin’ to Aris about her nose bein’ broken. She didn’t have anythin’ nice to say about you. But she didn’t go so far as to admit you did it.”
“She . . . ran into my fist.” Llew pushed his shirt from his shoulders. Something about that tattoo calmed her. It gave her a grounding. It called her home. She wrapped her arms about his waist, pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heart. Braph may have had one, but she’d never heard it. She closed her eyes. “Do you think Aris would be upset if I had one of your babies?”
Jonas tensed. Then he laughed. “He’d be livid. He’s scared enough that if I fall for you, I won’t do his biddin’ with the Karan girls he lines up – which is true. If it can even happen, I mean, it’s probably like how you can’t heal me . . . ” He pushed back from her again, gripping her shoulders, then stared at her, face blank, for a good few moments.
“Really? How–” He paused. “Are you sure?”
“I think so.” She wasn’t sure. She had never been pregnant before, hadn’t made a habit of hanging around pregnant girls and what she knew of the indications had been overheard only by accident. “I mean, I don’t know. But how else could I have healed you? You’re Syakaran. There has to be something that broke that barrier. And I’ve been running fast, and feeling strong. And I’ve been sick. And the Ajnai tree was very interested in . . . everything.”
The smile slowly returned to Jonas’ face. Then it disappeared again.
“Is that okay?” He looked worried. “Are you . . . happy?”
The strange thing was that if she let herself imagine it – having a baby, a child and all the mess and stress that went with it – she felt nervous and a little sick. But when she imagined the growing baby inside her, Jonas’ baby, a sense of love and wonder spread from her belly and through the rest of her and she couldn’t think of doing anything more wonderful or more important. She nodded, and when he seemed unconvinced she nodded more, and smile
d. He drew her into a firm embrace and kissed her head.
They stood like that a long while. She thought of those who were lost: from Renny whose life she had drained to save herself, and Kynas who had falsely accused her of another murder. The girl she had unknowingly killed, and the two street kids at Braph’s; and Pa, whom she had failed in her attempt to rescue him. And Jonas, whom she hadn’t failed. So many deaths, one life, and one more to come. And out there was her mother – still alive? With that thought came another, unbidden: a face, a presence.
For she knew in her gut that Braph still lived and would now more than ever want revenge; more than ever would want her blood.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There are so many I am bound to forget someone, so I’m going to apologise for that from the outset!
A huge (bigger than words can express) thanks to Sonya Lano – the single most influential person as far as me completing this story goes. If I hadn’t met you when I did, I don’t think I could have done it. Another massive thanks to Jaye in LA. Without you to bounce ideas off, without you telling me my ideas were crap, this story wouldn’t be what it is. You’re still enlightening me as to the themes I’ve managed to touch on – even before you’ve read it! Thanks to Colette Wright for being an extremely helpful Beta Reader – great comments! And Laura Hibbins who also came along at just the right time to help me hone those final chapters and urge me on – thanks!
Mustn’t forget T and Gav. Without you guys – my first readers – this story would have floundered a LONG time ago. Your encouragement of my early efforts got me here! I know! I hope you like the direction the book ended up taking . . . Thanks to Chy and the rest of the First Three Chapters group, and the follow up Fruit Basket group at writing.com (WDC). Double thanks to Chy for letting me fail to properly join your Outliners group and then still offering advice on my outline!
And thanks to anyone who reviewed the chapters of “Healer’s Touch” (or, as it was once titled “Weapons of War”) I had up on WDC. Every little bit of feedback helped shape it. Also members of YouWriteOn, Authonomy, and the rest who have offered both encouragement and criticism. Yep, even that person who called a snippet I posted on Tumblr “drivel”. I kept that bit.
Thanks to Evelinn Enoksen for the great maps, and Matt Donnici for putting up with my picky cover art notes. It’s not that I didn’t have faith in you. It’s just my baby, is all . . . you understand.
Thanks to Brooke Todd for putting up with me talking incessantly about it; as we aqua-jogged, when we swam at the river, when we played with the dogs, as we bathed my son . . . basically every time I’ve seen you since I started this journey I’ve bored you with my thoughts, my small joys, my bigger joys, and my doubts. Sorry I didn’t write a murder mystery, but hopefully Braph is interesting enough . . .
Thanks Sammy and Robert of Kristell Ink for seeing something in the submission documents I sent them. And an extra thank you to Robert for the work on the edits. However good the book might have been going to be, it wouldn’t be what it is without your help. And I wouldn’t be the writer I am now.
Thanks to my husband who let me play the “professional writer” role well before I earned it (still working on that) – taking our son out of the house so that I could make some real progress once a weekend.
Thanks to my son, Josh, for keeping me grounded. Without someone ensuring I kept regular hours I might have slipped into the creative genius routine of working nights and sleeping days. Can’t do that with a toddler. Thanks.
Basically, thanks to anyone who’s read a bit and said something about it (I think I’ve covered my butt there, right?)
Thanks one and all who reads it, loves it, and tells someone else about it!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Deb E Howell was born in New Zealand’s North Island, but her parents corrected that within months, moving south to Dunedin and staying there. Childhood nights were spent falling asleep to good cover versions of
Cliff Richard and the Shadows and other Rock ’n Roll classics played by her father’s band, and days were spent dancing to 45 LPs. Many of her first writing experiences were copying down song lyrics. She graduated
to scientific reports when she studied a fungus in the Zoology department of the University of Otago, trading all traces of popularity for usefulness . . . then traded both for fiction.
http://deberelene.com/
The second book in this series, Warrior’s Touch, is due out in late 2013.
OTHER TITLES FROM KRISTELL INK
Strange Tales From The Scriptorian Vaults:
A Collection of Steampunk Stories edited by Sammy HK Smith
All profits go to the charity First Story.
Published October 2012
Non-Compliance: The Sector by Paige Daniels
I used to matter . . . but now I’m just a girl in a ghetto, a statistic of the Non-Compliance Sector . . .
A great cyberpunk novel, the first in the Non-Compliance series.
Published November 2012.
Guardians of Evion by E. Enoksen
On the world of Evion the telepathic Riders of the Dragon defend the peace and maintain communications between the Waystatiosn. Numak is eager to join the elite . . . but nothing, least of all Numak, is as it seems.
Due Out March 1st 2013
OTHER TITLES SCHEDULED FOR 2013:
Space Games by Dean Lombardo
Darkspire Reaches by C. N. Lesley
In Search Of Gods And Heroes by Sammy H.K Smith
The Art of Forgetting by Joanne Hall
The Reluctant Prophet by Gillian O’Rourke
All titles in print and as e-books.
www.kristell-ink.com
Table of Contents
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Table of Contents
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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