The Healer: A Young Adult Romantic Fantasy (The Healer Series Book 1)

by C. J. Anaya

  “Italy? They don’t speak Spanish in Italy.”

  “Well, they don’t speak Spanish in Germany either. There is no way I’m moving to a country so totally devoid of nice, handsome looking Latinos.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m sure there are plenty of good looking Latinos in Germany. People are migrating everywhere these days.” My father stopped what he was doing and stared at me. Pinching the bridge of his nose he said, “I can’t believe I just let you suck me into such a ridiculous argument.”

  We stood there in silence for a few moments, neither one of us willing to back down.

  “We’re not leaving. We’re not running away. I want to know who these people are and why they’re looking for me.” My father started to say something, but I quickly held up my hand to stop him. “I won’t leave Angie. Can you imagine what the fallout from leaving her behind would be like? I won’t leave Kirby, either. So unless you plan on flying a very sick cancer patient and my wacky best friend to Germany, you can forget your relocation plan, for now, anyway.”

  My father shook his head in frustration. He knew I wasn’t going to allow him to ship me off to some foreign destination.

  “There’s too much we don’t know yet. Let’s just wait this out and see what happens,” I said attempting to appeal to his sense of reason.

  “I’m not happy about this, but I’ll agree to it on one condition. The minute I think your life is being threatened in any way, the minute this becomes dangerous, we take what’s in that safety deposit box, and we don’t stop running until we know it’s safe.”

  “That sounds fair,” I replied grudgingly.

  My father sank into his desk chair and placed his shaking hands on the table.

  “You better go heal Kirby.”

  I walked over to where he was sitting and wrapped my arms around his drooping shoulders.

  “I just want you safe,” he whispered.

  “I promise I will be.”

  I gave him a kiss on his cheek and squeezed his shoulders. Then I walked determinedly out of his office toward Kirby‘s room, where I hoped I wouldn’t be too late.

  Chapter Nine

  “Your birthday is coming up soon,” I reminded Kirby. “How are we going to celebrate?”

  He gave me a tired smile. I was surprised by how much his condition had worsened since last night. There were deep smudges under his eyes, his skin was a sick, waxy color, and his already bony frame looked more frail than ever. I gave him a cheerful smile. What I really wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and cry like a baby.

  “My birthday isn’t for another two weeks.” He lowered his gaze and pulled at the fabric of his hospital gown. “Besides, we don’t really know how much longer I’m going to be here. No need to plan for something that may not even happen.”

  I’d never told Kirby when he would die. It would’ve been the worst possible news to share with anyone, and I didn’t want him to give up. I sat down next to him and cradled him in my arms.

  “None of that, you hear me?” I scolded. “You’ll be here for your birthday. I promise you that.” I felt my eyes begin to fill with tears, and I was grateful Kirby had rested his head against my shoulder. I had to be strong for him. I couldn’t let him see me fall apart.

  “I just don’t see the point. I just…” Kirby stopped speaking abruptly. I heard him take a deep breath and letting it out in a slow hiss. I hugged him even closer to me and wondered at the very depressed mood he was in. It was so unlike him.

  Dispensing with my surprise, I reminded myself that even though Kirby acted like a mature adult, he was only ten years old. He was just a boy, and his mother’s absence was painfully noticeable.

  When I’d first arrived at Kirby’s door I sensed how much this latest infection had frightened him. His eyes had taken me in almost desperately, and his need for human contact with someone who really cared radiated off him in waves. Talking to Kirby about my insanely nerve-racking day had been forefront on my agenda, but after finding out about his pneumonia, the first thing I did upon entering his room was plant myself on his bed and place both hands on either side of his head.

  I’d felt his body sink into me as I instructed his life force to quickly and efficiently handle the infection that had taken root in his system. Once his fever broke and the infection healed, the poor thing had wrapped his arms around me tightly and sobbed softly into my shoulder. We’d been snuggling on his bed ever since.

  “It’s especially important that we celebrate your birthday this year,” I said in a firm voice.

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s one more opportunity to be grateful that you’re still here with me. You’re still alive, sweetheart. You’ve fought so hard for so long.” I swallowed a lump forming in my throat before continuing. “Don’t give up on me now, Kirby.”

  “Hope, do you think my mom is going to miss me when I’m gone?” His voice sounded small and unsure.

  I silently cursed his mother. I’d suspected he was more upset by her pathetic attempts at parenting than he’d let on.

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “You’re right. I still need to visit Disneyland.” He sounded more upbeat this time, more like himself.

  “And I need to let you rest.” I moved to lay his head on the pillow, but Kirby clutched at my arms.

  “Can you just stay with me for a little bit? I don’t want to fall asleep without you.” His large brown eyes looked sad and defeated.

  “Of course I can. I’ll even tuck you into bed.”

  I set about covering his tiny frame with his white, hospital blanket. I tucked both edges under either side of him, and then sat down, rubbing his arms softly as his eyelids reluctantly lowered. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

  I sat there and watched him, wondering at the unfairness of such a sweet young boy being given such a debilitating disease. Bad things happen to good people. My father reminded me of this almost daily. It builds character, makes us grow.

  One thing was certain. If I’d been God, I think I would’ve come to the conclusion long ago that Kirby’s character and maturity had been tested long enough. It was time for him to be whole.

  I was frustrated that his life force allowed me to help heal his infection, but it wouldn’t allow me to heal his leukemia. On an impulse I put my hands on either side of his head and connected with him. I sensed the overwhelming amount of mutated white blood cells being produced within the bone marrow and tried to show his life force how to relay the appropriate signals that would prevent his body from producing so many white blood cells.

  I received no response. I tried again and still nothing happened.

  My frustration was building. I decided to attack it from a different angle. Instead of sending instructions to slow down the white blood count production, I wanted to show his life force how to heal the mutated white blood cells from the inside out. The images I sent were detailed and vivid. I wanted to make sure my intentions, rather, my demands at this point, were being understood.

  My desperation would’ve been hard to miss and might have had an effect on an entity capable of feeling compassion, but a life force wasn’t concerned with a person’s wants. It was solely concerned with what was meant to be. I knew this. I already knew all of this. For reasons beyond my ability to understand, Kirby’s time on this earth would be coming to an end very shortly, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Still, I tried, and I waited.

  And nothing happened.

  This whole scenario was unacceptable. I was no longer willing to sit there and let unseen forces dictate to me who I could and couldn’t save. Taking a deep breath, I tuned out all of the hospital noises, the monitors, the occasional intercom messages, the traffic of nurses and doctors just outside the doors, and focused on the sounds of Kirby’s heartbeat, his easy breathing, and the pumping of blood throughout his system. If his life force wouldn’t relay my instructions, then I’d do it myself.

  Instead o
f communicating with Kirby’s spirit, I tried sending messages directly to the mutated, white blood cells. I was mentally jerked backwards as my mind hit an invisible wall. The impact was so jarring, I actually felt pressure build inside my head.

  Instead of conceding defeat, I became even more determined to succeed. My anger and desperation fueled me forward, and I pushed against the unknown obstacle before me. The more mental power I threw at it the more it wavered, and the more my head felt ready to explode. I thrust my will forward, looking for any weakness, any opening. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to continue this particular course of action. My mind was feeling a bit combustible, for lack of a better word. I worried I might pass out. To my relief, the wall started thinning out and became more pliable. Pushing against it now felt like pushing against the plastic wrap on bottled water cases.

  I continued my efforts, barely noticing the sweat dripping down the sides of my temples or the way my body shook. After several seconds of literally forcing my mental energy through the weakening barrier, I broke through with an abrupt snap. The snapping noise vibrated through every inch of my body, but the pressure in my head immediately ceased. Though my breathing was shaky and uneven, I wasn’t about to give up now. After getting past that mysterious barrier, I focused all of my mental energy on convincing Kirby’s mutated blood cells to heal from within. I waited.

  I wanted to pound my fists into the bed when, for the first ten seconds, nothing happened.

  Then something did happen.

  One random, microscopic blood cell began to heal. I nearly cried out with excitement, but instead, I mentally held my breath and waited to see if anything else would happen….and it did. Several white blood cells were beginning to change, to morph into healthy contributing members of Kirby’s body.

  I could feel tears slowly slip from my closed lids as more and more immature cells responded to me. I sensed his life force in the background, a silent observer to the events taking place. I was certain this form of healing was completely unorthodox, and his life force knew it. The slight uneasiness concerning the method I used became overshadowed by the simple fact that I was succeeding.

  I am healing Kirby’s body!

  I continued to give specific instructions to as many mutated blood cells as I could, but I was definitely getting tired. I wanted to keep going, but my strength was swiftly ebbing away. Once my instructions halted, I waited to see if any other white blood cells would jump on board even though I was no longer showing them how to do it. His body continued its slow transformation with more mutated blood cells catching on and some cells being eradicated altogether.

  Elation coursed through me. His life force had managed to remember the instructions and healed his body without my supervision. I couldn’t believe it had worked. I’d been able to show over one thousand mutated cells how to heal themselves. Another thousand cells had actually terminated themselves, lowering his white blood count considerably, and now the rest of his disease might be completely eradicated within the next few days.

  I took my hands away from Kirby’s head and opened my eyes, intending to rush to my father’s office and share with him my amazing news. The harsh hospital lighting made me wince, and my headache returned in full force. My body would heal itself soon, but I wasn’t interested in sticking around until it did. I needed a bed, and I needed it now.

  Kirby had a private room, so finding an extra bed next to him wasn’t an option. I weakly stood and immediately grabbed my head with both hands as a brilliant streak of white light shot behind my eyes and hammered into the back of my skull. I managed to make it out the door, but practically dragged myself to the elevator. My vision blurred, and the pain increased with every step I took.

  By the time I hit the elevator button and lurch past its quivering doors, the pain became unbearable and leveled me to the floor. I wasn’t sure how the elevator made it to the first floor, and I didn’t care. As soon as the doors opened a loud commotion greeted me, and then a warm hand touched my forehead. I winced and cried out in pain.

  “Hope, what happened? Are you all right? Did someone hurt you?” The voice sounded familiar.

  “Vict…?” I tried to say his name, but forming small noises let alone complete words overwhelmed me.

  “Move over, Vicky,” said another familiar voice. Two sets of hands were placed against either side of my head. “This shouldn’t be happening.

  We have to fix this now.”

  “We can’t fix it in front of all these people, Tie.”

  “She doesn’t have much time left!”

  Their voices sounded distant, muffled, and laced with panic. I might have been able to reassure them that I was okay if my tongue hadn’t felt so swollen. All I really wanted them to do, at this point, was beat me unconscious with a sledgehammer.

  They lifted me off the ground. I let out an agonized scream, barely recognizing it as my own. The next few minutes were a blur of head shattering noises, jarring movements, and an occasional human being talking so loudly it sounded as if they were yelling through a microphone inside my head. I registered the panicked tones of my dad’s voice at one point, but my uncontrollable screaming began to overshadow everything else.

  After a few more minutes of endless noise, pain, movement, and shouting, they lowered me onto something warm and soft. It was terribly painful. Tie’s hands—I thought they were Tie’s—landed on my head again, and bright flashes of gold and orange soothed the pain away. Something pricked my shoulder and then a warm sensation spread up my arm, towards my head, down my spine, and out through my toes.

  I wanted to stay awake. I needed to figure out why my body hadn’t healed itself. My life force had never allowed me to experience debilitating pain for any real length of time. I tried to open my eyes and take in my surroundings, but they refused to cooperate. All I could see in front of me was blessed, pain-free oblivion. I stopped fighting and embraced it wholeheartedly.

  * * *

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been walking, but I felt strangely serene considering how lost I’d become. There was a white path before me, rolling green hills on either side of me, and all around me red cherry blossoms were falling from the sky. I reached my hands out to catch the falling petals, never for one minute thinking it strange that blossoms were falling from heaven. As I did so, I noticed my arms were enveloped in white, silky sleeves that draped from my wrists to the porcelain looking floor beneath me. I wore a white silk kimono with a long train billowing out the back. I stopped my trance-like gliding in order to observe more closely the swirling floral designs stitched into the fabric of the silken gown. Every flower resembled the flowing lines of a cherry blossom. I picked up the folds of my dress and continued my walk down the white, winding path.

  In a detached sort of way I wondered why I wore such an outfit. Of course, I wasn’t sure where I was going or why I continued to walk down the path that twisted before me, but I felt as if my destiny awaited for me just beyond the sharp bend ahead. The blossoms continued to rain down upon me, and my eagerness to reach this unknown destination made my earlier graceful movements choppy and slightly less coordinated, especially with my long silken kimono tangling around my wedged shoes. I finally kicked them off and gathered the front of my gown into a large mound. I lifted the beautiful material to knee level and began running as fast as I could toward what I hoped would be the end of this mystery.

  Upon reaching the bend in the path, I followed it right and continued running. I’d moved several yards forward when another person rose up before me in the distance. My heart nearly leaped from my chest, but I couldn’t account for the cause. My body seemed to be responding to the stranger. My feet propelled me forward until I stood a few feet away from him.

  I couldn’t believe it was Tie. His smug smile beamed brightly through the onslaught of blossoms that fell at a much more rapid pace. His golden hair had an otherworldly glow to it, and his clothes were bright white and silken as well.

  He was the
most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  I wanted to speak to him, ask him what was happening and demand he tell me why we were here, but before I could do so he lifted his empty hand out invitingly and a cherry blossom the color of ebony suddenly appeared, hovering above his proffered hand. Its black hue took on the darkest shades of midnight. It was a startling contrast against the white of our apparel and the red blossoms falling all around us.

  “Take it,” he said softly.

  “Why?” I felt mesmerized by his crystal blue eyes.

  “It belongs to you. It always has, and it always will.”

  The blossom’s ebony petals glistened enticingly within my reach. I stepped forward hesitantly and reached out my hand to take it.

  “Wait,” said a commanding voice.

  I turned around, surprised to see Victor a few feet behind me. His jet black hair matched the blackness of his own attire, and his striking features looked stormy and forbidding. His presence agitated everything. A strong gust of wind began whipping the folds of my kimono. My long, dark tresses blew haphazardly around me. I pulled them back in frustration so I could better see and understand the look of anger—or maybe it was betrayal—radiating from the depths of Victor’s eyes.

  The cherry blossoms showering down upon us began changing from red to midnight black. I turned to my left as a statue of a kneeling woman with her arms outstretched materialized out of thin air. I looked down and stared at my apparel in amazement. It was no longer white, but blood red.

  My focus shifted between Tie and Victor. The black blossoms swirled around us all, creating a dark blanket which shut out every shred of light. The darkness pulled me under, leaving me feeling hollow, empty, and hopeless.