by JG Faherty
“And got a shock,” John said.
“Yes. But it was worse for my mother. It’s always worse for the…for whoever I touch. Everyone was in a hurry, though, so my dad got us in the car and we left. They dropped me off at my friend’s and went to the hospital.”
“What happened then?”
Leah looked away. She didn’t want to see his eyes when he figured it out. “My friend’s dog died of cancer and my mom was fine.”
John frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I played with the dog while I was there. A day later, it was dead.” She watched his eyes, but the relevance of her statement didn’t register in them.
You’ve been able to do this since you were nine and no one’s ever found out? How’d you keep it a secret?”
Leah shrugged. “If I’d known what was happening then, I probably wouldn’t have. It’s only looking back I’ve realized that’s when weird things started happening. The first time I actually knew I’d Cured someone was when I was sixteen. My dad cut his arm really bad in the garage. On the way to the hospital my mom asked me to hold the bandage on it while she drove.”
Leah paused, the memories of that day rushing back as if it had only been weeks ago instead of twenty years. “There was that same nasty green glow, and then that same electric shock. By the time we got to the hospital, my dad’s arm was healed, but we didn’t know it until later, when the ER nurse removed the bandage and there was nothing there but a thin cut.”
John reached out and took her hands. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. You’re like a miracle worker.”
She pulled away, shaking her head. “No I’m not. I’m more like a death bringer.”
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
This was the part she’d been dreading, trying to explain the dark side of her Power. “You haven’t been listening. The dead cat. The dead dog. I didn’t realize it then, either. We were still in the emergency room. The nurse was mad at my father for not being as badly hurt as he’d said he was. She made him fill out all these papers. While I was waiting, my arm started to ache. A little at first, and then really bad. I pulled my sleeve up and there was a red line running from my elbow to my wrist.”
“The same place your father had been cut?”
Leah nodded. He was finally getting it. “I was going to say something, but just then the man sitting next to me started yelling at his kid to sit still, really chewing the kid out. It made me angry, and suddenly I had this feeling, this compulsion, to touch him. So I did. And all my pain went away.”
“Leah, don’t tell me…” John’s face registered his fear of where the story was going.
“He screamed and grabbed his arm. Luckily, no one had seen me touch him. His skin split open and blood started gushing all over the place. He fell off his chair. People were shouting; nurses came running to help him. In the confusion no one, not even him, realized that I had anything to do with it.”
“But you knew.”
“Everything hit me all at once, one of those light bulbs that just goes off sometimes and you have perfect understanding. I could Cure people, but I had to pass the sickness on to someone else or suffer it myself.”
John sat there for a moment, not saying anything, just staring at her with his chocolate-colored eyes. She tried to read his expression. Fear? Sympathy? Or maybe just trying to process the information?
Finally, he spoke. “So, when the gunman fell down, it was because you…?”
“I touched him when he grabbed me. I passed your fatal wound to him.”
There was another moment of silence before John spoke again. “What happened with your father?”
It took Leah a moment to adjust to the change in topic. “Um…my parents were confused, but they didn’t say anything. After that, I saw them looking at me funny a few times, and more than once over the years it seemed like they stopped talking when I came into the room, but they never asked me about it. And I made sure I never Cured anyone or anything around them or anyone else again.”
“Why? Wouldn’t they have understood?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But no sixteen-year-old girl wants to be different. It’s hard enough having braces or wearing the wrong style clothes. Can you imagine people knowing I could heal with a touch? I’d have been the class freak. Maybe even gotten locked away in some government lab. So I practiced on my own whenever I could, on injured wild animals. I learned how to control the Power, rather than just have it happen every time I touched someone or something.”
John got up and walked across the aisle. Taking one of her hands in both his own, he looked straight into her eyes. “You realize you were the real hero yesterday, don’t you?”
“What?” His words caught her by surprise.
“By killing that man, you not only saved me and yourself, but all the other people in there he might have shot, or the police he might have fired on when they arrived.”
“I never thought of that. I was just afraid he’d hurt me.”
“You did good, Leah DeGarmo. And your secret is safe with me. I owe you my life. It’s the least I can do.”
Leah felt tears come to her eyes. Something about the man made her feel like she could trust him. And it wasn’t just that he was a police officer. There was a warmth to him, a sincerity that touched her heart. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but she settled for giving his hand a squeeze before reluctantly pulling away.
“Thank you. I’m still so paranoid about it. That’s why I could never work in a clinic with other vets. I couldn’t let anyone know.”
“You’re a smart girl, Leah. Even if the government didn’t try to turn you into some kind of science project, there are a lot of shady characters out there who’d love to get their hands on a weapon like you.”
Leah jerked back in her chair. “Weapon? Me?”
He nodded, his soulful eyes—bedroom eyes, her grandmother would have called them—very serious. “You’ve only been thinking about the healing part. But there’s the other side of the coin. You could kill or injure people without anyone knowing. The perfect murder: touch someone today and next week they die of cancer.”
A chill ran through her body that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning. “I never… I wouldn’t do that.”
John shrugged. “You can’t say what you’d do if someone had a gun to your head or was holding your family hostage. If anything, I’d suggest you be even more careful about using your power in front of anyone.”
His warning barely registered on her brain; she was still reeling from the idea of being used as an unwilling assassin.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “I’ll try not to use it.”
But in her heart she knew it was impossible. There was no way she could let animals die when they didn’t need to.
From the way John was looking at her, she knew he didn’t believe her any more than she believed herself.
Chapter Four
Emilio Suarez ducked down below the window sill as the two people in the veterinary clinic stood up. He hadn’t been able to hear more than a few words, but as far as he was concerned it didn’t matter. He had his proof. Why else would the lady vet and the cop from the shooting be meeting if it not to talk about how she’d healed him?
From the snatches of conversation that he’d caught, it wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this. Now he finally had something positive to tell Nova.
Maybe he’d even get a bonus.
And if not, well, there were other people who’d be interested in this as well. People who might have a different idea of what to do with Dr. DeGarmo.
Staying in a crouch, he moved around to the back of the building so he could use his cell phone without being heard.
“It’s me.” He knew better than to use names. “I heard her telli
ng that cop what she did. It’s for real, man. I think she’s ’splaining to him how it works, but I can’t hear nuthin’ through the glass. What you want me to do?”
Secretly, he was hoping Nova would tell him to grab the girl and force the information out of her. Questioning her would have some serious side benefits. He’d never seen a vet that fine when he was growing up in Brooklyn; in his opinion she should have been dancing on a pole instead of sticking thermometers up dogs’ asses.
So it was a disappointment when Nova instructed him to do nothing.
“Continue to watch her. If it looks like she’s going to talk to someone from the press, make the person disappear, but under no circumstances reveal yourself to the doctor or harm her in any way.”
“You got it.” No matter what his feelings, he knew better than to disobey Tal Nova. No one did that.
Not if they wanted to live.
Still staying below eye level, he returned to his car to wait for the lady vet to leave.
As he watched her through his binoculars, he slowly rubbed his crotch with his free hand and wondered how she’d look nailed to a cross.
Leonard Marsh leaned back in his oversized leather chair and looked out the window. The wide, bullet- and soundproof glass panes of his twenty-fifth floor office offered a panoramic view of the Hudson River from Eightieth Street to Fifty-Sixth. In the last rays of the setting sun, the river resembled a fresh watercolor on a heavy canvas, the pastel reds, oranges, purples and golds melting together at the edges, each ripple frozen in mid-crest by the artist’s brush.
“So, what do you want to do with her?” Tal Nova’s deep voice broke the silence.
Marsh swiveled the chair around so he was facing the other occupant in his office. Tal Nova stood six feet four and weighed just over two hundred forty pounds. Looking at him, it wasn’t hard to believe he’d been a star football player in college. What would be difficult to understand was why he’d turned down a career with the Arizona Cardinals after being drafted in the first round.
Leonard Marsh was one of only four people in the world who’d ever found out the answer to that question; he was one of only two still alive.
“You know me well, my friend,” Marsh said to his Vice President of Business Affairs.
“Well enough to know you don’t sit back and watch things happen.” Tal took a seat on the other side of Marsh’s wide mahogany desk and opened a fresh stick of cinnamon gum. Since quitting smoking three years earlier, he’d become as addicted to the sharp burn of the gum as he’d been to the bitter taste of the tobacco.
Marsh allowed himself a chuckle. “Quite right. You don’t get anywhere in life by watching the world go by. You’ve got to grab what you want and make it yours.” He punctuated his words by snatching an imaginary prize from the air. “My father taught me that.”
“And you had him killed.”
“He just happened to be in the way of what I wanted.” Marsh spread his arms, indicating the expansive office. “What can I say? I learned my lessons well.”
“So what do you want this time?” Tal asked, the bemused expression on his dark-as-night face evidence that his question was a rhetorical one. His smooth-shaved head reflected the soft lights in the room as he leaned forward.
“I want the girl, obviously,” Marsh said. “But I can’t take the word of a low-level thief. I need hard evidence before I act.”
“I presume that’s where I come in.”
Marsh pointed a finger at his associate. “Right again. It’s your job to provide me with facts. I want to see this ‘miracle worker’ in action before I get my hopes up.”
Tal stood up, his wide, muscular frame impressive and threatening, even in the custom-tailored charcoal suit he wore like a second skin, as comfortable in the expensive clothes as he’d ever been in a football uniform.
“No problem, boss. I’ll take care of it.” With a flick of his fingers he tossed his empty gum wrapper into the small garbage can next to the minibar and exited through the door that led to his adjoining office.
Leonard Marsh returned to his contemplation of the evening view. White and green lights moved up the river as a private yacht returned from its travels farther up the Hudson. On the far side of the water, the lights of New Jersey sparkled like captured stars.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the window and frowned. Even the semitransparent reflection couldn’t hide the growing signs of his illness: the sallow complexion, the dark smudges and baggy flesh under his eyes. In the two months since being diagnosed, it looked like he’d aged ten years beyond his previously healthy sixty.
And what his reflection revealed was just the tip of the iceberg; deep inside him even more radical changes were occurring as his body succumbed to the onslaught of the invading cells.
Hepatocellular carcinoma. He could still hear the doctor’s words, delivered so matter-of-factly. He’d gone to the specialist after his internist had diagnosed his sore back as an inflamed liver.
“What’s the treatment?” he’d asked the oncologist, who’d hemmed and hawed a bit before answering, which told him all he really needed to know.
“The cancer is already very advanced. Too advanced for surgery. Chemotherapy can slow the progression, but…”
Cold fingers had clutched at his belly when the doctor’s voice trailed off. “But what? How long have I got?”
“Six months, maybe eight. I’m sorry, Mr. Marsh.”
Six to eight months. Which probably meant four to six before being totally bedridden. And who knew if the oncologist was right? The man had admitted things could change if the cancer spread to his lymph system or to his other organs.
Months to live. How the hell did you prepare yourself for something like that? It wasn’t fair! He’d spent the first week in a raging tantrum, breaking things, shouting at people, even firing an attendant in the parking garage who’d been late in bringing his car around.
Then he’d come to his senses and realized this was just another problem to be solved, the same way he’d approach a hostile takeover or a declining stock market.
He’d done his research. Hepatocellular carcinoma was usually 90 percent fatal; that meant a 10 percent chance his chemo would work. Not great odds, but he’d taken chances on worse. However, it wasn’t in his nature to toss all his eggs in one basket, be it finances or his life. He’d put the vast resources of his business empire to work on finding a cure. Research and development labs were ordered to drop everything and look into liver cancers. Pharmaceutical firms were instructed to go through their enormous files of botanicals and other natural substances.
And the word had been put out to look for any unusual cases of spontaneous cures or “miracle” healings.
Over the past six weeks he’d subjected himself not only to the exhausting effects of the chemotherapy treatments, but also to the salves, lotions and hands of supposed faith healers, voodoo practitioners and saints-in-waiting. He’d traveled to remote villages to dip himself into healing pools and stand shoulder to shoulder with terminally ill, stinking, Third World refugees at special Masses.
None of it had helped.
But now fate had delivered this veterinarian, Leah DeGarmo, into his sights; she could very well hold the key to his continued life in her pretty little hands.
And if she did, there was no way anyone or anything was going to keep her from him.
Chapter Five
Leah started her car and rolled down the windows, but didn’t take it out of Park. She didn’t trust herself to drive just yet.
Not after what John had asked just before leaving her clinic.
She assumed they were done talking, and she stood up to say good night. Not that she wanted him to leave, but now that she’d explained her Power to him, she figured never to see him again.
“Leah, there’s something I want to ask you. Actually, I would have aske
d you yesterday, but the shooting and the dying kind of got in the way.”
“What’s that?” Even as he smiled at her, she had no clue.
He took a deep breath. “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe dinner? Or even just coffee.”
She felt her mouth open but no words came out. Did he really just ask me on a date? An embarrassed look came into his eyes, and she realized she’d left him hanging.
“I shouldn’t have asked. I—”
“No, no! It’s okay, really. I just didn’t expect it. I thought…I thought you weren’t interested,” she finished lamely.
He laughed. “You thought wrong. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Oh! Yes, I’d love to go to dinner. How about Friday?”
“Friday it is,” he agreed. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Good night.” He gave her another of his bright-white smiles and then walked out the doors, waving to her through the windows as he headed for his car.
Now, sitting with her hands on the Avalon’s steering wheel, she smiled to herself. I’ve got a date.
Her first one in years.
Oh God. I don’t even remember how to date. What should I wear? Do women still offer to pay?
I’ll have to corner Chastity tomorrow. She dates more than anyone I’ve ever known.
Not caring that she still had a goofy grin plastered across her face, Leah pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.
I’ve got a date!
She never noticed the brown pickup truck that exited the parking lot next door and stayed two cars behind her all the way across town.
Chapter Six
Tal Nova leaned back in his chair, a smaller version of Leonard Marsh’s leather throne, and checked the door before pulling his cell phone from his pocket. Having the office next door to the head of the company held both advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, even though he only carried the title of Vice President, his status as Marsh’s right-hand man was well-known throughout Marsh Enterprises, providing him with a multitude of perks he never would have enjoyed in any other job, even as a star NFL tight end.