Dealers of Light

by Lara Nance

  “We need to talk.”

  “Okay, come inside and we’ll talk. Drink. Whatever. Come on.” She gave a nervous laugh, feeling like a jabbering idiot. If only she didn’t know what was about to happen. But she did.

  He raised a hand. “There’s no point in dragging this out and making it more painful. I wanted to tell you in person our relationship isn’t working for me. I didn’t think it was right to do it over the phone.”

  “What?” Her heartbeats stalled, but in a far corner of her mind she’d known this would happen.

  It always did.

  “You want to just be friends, go out and have fun. But I’d like something more. I’m tired of arguing over it. There’s just no point in going on if it’s not leading somewhere.” His brow wrinkled.

  She knew how to make him stay. All she had to do was go to him and say she wanted more, too. Temptation tugged at her heart until it hardened and sank in her chest, like a pebble in a pond. She wanted more. Craved more. Which didn’t matter because she refused to risk his safety. Not after what happened the last time she’d gotten too close to someone.

  The old horror rose in her mind—a frantic three a.m. call to her friends to come help her revive poor Chris after she’d inadvertently drained his Light in the throes of sex. She’d almost killed a man, and it had nearly killed her.

  Sure, her other Light dealing friends said eventually she’d learn to control it, but she couldn’t justify risking innocent, loving men like Tom. It wasn’t fair. So they always left her. Alone. Always alone.

  “I see.” Her limbs froze. Dusty tugged on the leash to go to Tom, but she pulled him back.

  “I’m sorry, Cara. Really. I thought we might have something, but—” He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut. Muscles twitched along his jaw line. He half raised one hand, let it drop, and walked to his car door, head down. He got in without another glance and drove away.

  She stood there until he turned onto the main road. He wasn’t coming back. A single tear ran down her cheek until she swiped it away. Damn it, it wasn’t fair. She had this gift, this incredible gift she didn’t really understand, that allowed her to heal and ease pain. But it also kept her from having love in her life.

  Rushing inside, she slammed the door and leaned her back against it. She fought against a wave of rising tears and slid down until she sat on her butt. Dusty took advantage of her proximity by licking her face over and over. She hugged his neck until he squirmed to get away, and stood there torturing her with his big, sad eyes.

  “Don’t give me that dopey look. There’s nothing I can do about it.” Her trembling fingers fumbled with his leash and finally got it unhooked. She used the doorknob to pull herself up.

  “This calls for a drink.” She sighed and headed into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of merlot from one of the grocery bags. After corking, she poured herself a glass and gulped down her first mouthful. Unbidden, pent up emotions from the day added fuel to her sorrow. Grief for Emmie, fear for Nicki, heartbreak for Tom. Hot tears streamed down her face, her breath hitching on her sobs.

  The wine numbed the edges of her mind and she drained that glass and poured another. Two more gulps and the fire burned through her veins, deadening the pain. She tucked the bottle under one arm and trudged into the living room, taking a drink from her glass every few steps.

  She sank into her favorite cushy chair across from the sofa, and Dusty rested his head on her knee while she stroked his forehead. Thank God for her dog. Unconditional love and companionship.

  She hauled in a deep breath. She would just get on with her life without a man. Plenty of things for her to do. Maybe she’d join the Peace Corps and devote her life to helping others in far off places. Moving from country to country so there would be no time for relationships or regret.

  Tears welled up again, and she bit her cheek to chase away the frustrating fountain of emotion. “I am not going to do this.”

  She set the wine bottle and glass on a side table, jumped to her feet, and went to the kitchen, Dusty trailing her. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocketbook along with a note listing Nicki’s number and address. Ten rings and no answer. No voice mail.

  Damn it. Why didn’t she answer? Cara returned to her comfy chair, placing the phone and note on the coffee table. Kicking off her shoes, she tucked her feet under her. Could this day get any crappier?

  Her cell phone rang with a number she recognized. Amber. Her best friend and fellow Dealer. “Hi,” Cara said.

  “Hey, sweetie. Want to get some dinner? Tor’s teaching a class after work, and I’m not in the mood to stay home.”

  “Actually, I don’t feel like going out.” She told her friend about Tom’s break up and Emmie’s death. “I know you never met Emmie, but she was a Dealer like us. She always helped the other homeless people who wouldn’t come to the clinic or the hospital. It’s such a huge, super bad, horrible loss.”

  “Aww, honey, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been quite a day. Sometimes being a Light-dealer is more of a curse than a blessing. And sometimes it just totally sucks.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Tonight I do.” She sighed.

  “Sounds like you need to talk. I’ll pick up some dinner for us and come over.”

  “I think I need something. Maybe you can help me make sense of it all. Come on over.”

  About an hour, and half a bottle of wine later, Amber arrived carrying a Santino’s pizza box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

  “Sustenance has arrived, darling.” She marched in, tan legs flashing from under her white mini dress, for all the world like a pixie with big green eyes and spiky brown hair. She placed the pizza on the coffee table and wrapped her arms about Cara, who drew comfort from the warmth of her embrace, hating to let her friend go.

  “You going to be okay, sweetheart?” Amber studied Cara’s face, eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah, at least Emmie died peacefully, and she said she wasn’t in any pain.”

  Amber walked into Cara’s kitchen to retrieve a wine glass. “What happened to her? I didn’t think she was too old.” She returned and settled on the sofa beside Cara.

  “She was in her late seventies, but always healthy. Who knows what happened? Heart attack, maybe.” Cara poured wine into Amber’s glass and refilled her own. She grabbed the pizza box and opened it, freeing the garlicky scent trapped within. “Mmm, white cheese with spinach, black olives and mushrooms, my favorite,” she said, mouth watering.

  “I told you being a vegetarian isn’t all bad.” Amber winked.

  “Pizza makes anything good.” Cara lifted a slice, wrapping the hot stringy cheese over the top.

  “What happened with Tom, honey?” Amber lifted a piece from the box.

  “Same old.”

  Amber bit her bottom lip. “You sure you don’t want to try again? Maybe this time—”

  “No!” Cara swallowed and the hot pizza scorched her throat. She tossed the remainder of the slice onto the top of the box. A shiver crawled up her spine. “I’ll never feel safe with a non-dealer. I can’t risk killing someone.”

  Amber nodded and nibbled on her pizza. “Poor sweetie. I understand. I was scared, too, before I met Tor.” She took a sip of wine and peeked at Cara from under her lashes. “But I think Emmie disturbed you more than the break up with Tom. I can feel the disruption in your aura when you talk about her. Tell me.”

  Cara swirled her wine and related the entire incident.

  “Oh, dear, that is strange,” Amber said. “Was she delusional?”

  Cara raked a hand through her long hair. “No, I knew her pretty well. She didn’t seem delusional.”

  “But, Cara, honey, think about it. Why wouldn’t she want you to help her? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Cara stared across the room, flashes of Emmie’s last moments playing in her head like a movie. “She knew she was dying and came there with a purpose, to give me a gift. She said so. Kept going
on about my destiny.”

  “If it was so important to give you this gift, why not let you help her with the Light so she was able to tell you what to use it for?” Amber chewed her bottom lip.

  “One of the last things she said was, ‘you got to find your way’. Like part of the gift is me figuring it out.”

  “I don’t know…sounds a little farfetched to me.” Amber placed a gentle hand on Cara’s shoulder, her eyes soft. “Sweetie, you have to consider, maybe it was just her way of showing you how much she cared about you, and she didn’t want to die alone.”

  “Emmie wasn’t the type to talk nonsense, and she specifically asked me to warn all of us in the group. So, it seems the evil is either something threatening those of us who deal the Light, or we’re the only ones who can stop it. Or both.”

  “Brrr, gives me the shivers.” Amber hunched her shoulders and clasped her hands together. “Let’s stop talking about it.”

  Suddenly, a thud rattled the front door and they both jumped. Amber grabbed Cara’s arm.

  “What the hell?” Cara rushed over and peeked out, with Amber right behind her. “Crap!” She threw open the door. Their friend, Dr. Marc Bellow, slumped into the house, lying face down across the doorway in his light blue scrubs from work. He moaned and pushed at the floor.

  “Marc!” they both yelled. He struggled to get his legs under him, and they grabbed his arms to lift him. He was almost dead weight, but they managed to half drag him to Cara’s comfy chair. His head fell back, his face the color of white paper.

  “Marc, Marc, sweetie, look at me.” Amber patted the side of his face, but he only moaned.

  Cara’s heart thumped in her chest. She ran to her bedroom for her stethoscope and placed it on his chest, straining to detect the faint pulse. His chest rose only slightly with each breath. “Marc, what is it?” She grabbed his shoulders, shook him, then pried open his eyelids to peer at his pupils. “What happened?”

  “Too much …” he murmured. “Gave too much. Had to save her—”

  “Damn it, Marc!” He’d given someone too much Light. Again. She pointed to her cell phone, furious. Amber nodded, wide-eyed. They needed more of their friends to save him. “We’ve warned you about this.”

  Amber grabbed the phone, punched some numbers, and motioned for Cara to go ahead. Cara wheeled to face Marc. He grimaced, his head lolling back and forth.

  “Sorry, buddy,” she said, finding her portal under his collarbone. Amber’s anxious voice broke through her concentration, but she managed to block it out and focus her Light.

  She gasped when the connection was complete. Damn, he was so empty he might inadvertently suck her dry. A flush of tingling energy surged out her fingertips. She gritted her teeth to slow the flow to a controllable trickle. Marc moaned.

  “That’s enough.” Amber grabbed her shoulder.

  “Just a little more.” Cara’s portion had raised his level the tiniest amount. Dear God, what happened to him?

  “No! Stop it now.” Amber’s fingers dug into Cara’s skin.

  Amber was right. But they all fought the allure of giving—the illusion you were invincible, which tricked you into depleting yourself. She wanted to save Marc, but Amber would provide a portion and the others should be on the way. Straining with every ounce of strength she possessed, she retracted the shiny strands of her power. Marc’s core strung out tangles of need, but she managed to break the connection. Darkness pressed in on the edges of her vision, and she closed her eyes to steady herself, bracing her thigh against the chair arm.

  Amber grabbed Cara by the arm once she broke away from Marc. She pushed Cara toward the sofa where she flopped into the seat, dizziness easing.

  “Now stay.” Amber pointed her finger at Cara.

  She waved one hand at Amber. “Go, I’m fine.”

  Amber knelt beside Marc’s chair and ran her hand down his shoulder to the underside of his upper arm, locating her portal. She connected, her eyes popped wide, and she gasped.

  Cara’s heart thumped, she came to the edge of her seat, poised to pull her friend away if she became overwhelmed. But Amber held up one finger and grimaced. After about thirty seconds, Amber whimpered and closed her eyes. She jerked back her hand from Marc’s arm, rubbing the fingers.

  “Are you okay?” Cara bolted up to rest a hand on Amber’s shoulder.

  Amber nodded. “Fine. Wow, he’s almost empty, and his soul is so full of fear. What the hell was he thinking? He knows better after the last time.” She twisted her hands together. “Oh, dear, I hope the others make it in time.”

  “Who’s closest?”

  Marc’s white face appeared unchanged. Cara placed the stethoscope to his chest again. His pulse might be a fraction stronger, it was hard to tell.

  “Tor. He’s only a few minutes from here at the dojo.”

  “Marc’ll end up killing himself one day.” Cara frowned. “He always thinks he can go to the edge saving somebody.” Last year Marc’d nearly died when he sent his Light into a young boy who came to the ER at Norfolk General. But this was worse.

  “I bet he didn’t eat today either.” Amber bent over and picked up a crumpled candy bar wrapper that must have dropped from Marc’s limp hand when they put him in the chair. “He probably tried to eat this at the last minute.” She waved the paper in the air, a hand on one hip.

  Cara rolled her eyes. “Like a candy bar would save him from that draining.”

  The doorbell rang and Cara rushed to the door. It was Hatori, Tor for short, Amber’s husband, still in his gi from karate class. After a worried glance at his wife, he hurried to Marc’s side.

  “Dude, you look like hell,” Tor said before finding his portal just under the chin.

  A squeal of tires outside announced another arrival. Cara opened the door, a smile tugging at her lips when Shana exited her red Miata amidst a tire trail of dust and slammed the car door. The girl’s rumbling complaints floated across the lawn. She stalked to the door, her hands tightened into fists.

  “Damn him, I knew this would happen again. He just won’t listen. Idiot! I gotta come over here and save his sorry ass in the middle of my shift. Like I don’t have other people who need my help. I got a floor full of palliative care patients dying, I don’t need this crap.” She strode into the house and cast a quick glance about the room until she located Marc slumped in the chair. She froze.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered, eyes wide.

  “So far, I started and Amber gave. Tor’s on him now. You’re next.” Cara motioned her forward. “Hurry, he’s in bad shape.”

  Shana’s normally glowing ebony skin turned almost gray. She tossed long braids over her shoulder and threw her purse on the sofa.

  Tor still had one hand under Marc’s chin. His slanted eyes narrowed and his lips formed a tight, thin line.

  Amber watched him, brow furrowed. “Enough, Tor.”

  He removed his fingers, shaking his hand. Shana fell to her knees beside Marc’s chair. Her hand cupped his cheek for a second before she moved her fingers behind his ear. The doorbell rang again and the door swung open. Alistair Wickham strode through the threshold, nattily attired in a double-breasted navy suit. He frowned, eyes centered on Marc’s limp body.

  “Alistair, honey,” Amber took his elbow. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  “Young fool. Do you know how long it takes to drive to Virginia Beach from ODU at this time of day? It’s a good thing I was on my way to dine with a friend near here.” Alistair’s British accent had become more pronounced in his agitation. “Trying to save someone’s life again, I take it?”

  “Seems so.” Cara placed a hand on Shana’s shoulder to warn her against draining. “We don’t know the whole story yet. He showed up on my doorstep and collapsed.”

  “Bloody typical.” Alistair crossed the room to the chair. Marc blinked his eyes and slightly raised his head. Shana backed off, allowing space for Alistair.

  Shana sidled up to Cara and wove an arm through he
rs. “Is he going to make it?”

  “I don’t know.” Cara patted Shana’s hand. “Maybe with Alistair’s energy…”

  After scrutinizing the younger man’s face, Alistair reached out and placed his long, thin fingers on the inside of Marc’s left wrist. He closed his eyes, still frowning. When Alistair again opened his eyes, Marc did, too. Alistair dropped his hand and glanced at the others. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love a glass of that red wine you’re drinking.” He moved to a wing chair at the other end of the couch from Marc and sat. “Unless you have something a bit stronger? Brandy perhaps?”

  Cara let out the breath she’d held captive, and Shana’s shoulders slumped.

  Marc rubbed his head. He sat up further in the chair and leaned over, groaning. “My head—”

  “Gonna be your ass when you get better and I kick it.” Shana glared at him.

  “Aww, Shan, you here?” Marc raised his head and blinked at the group eyeing him.

  “I’ll get him something to eat.” Cara slipped her arm from Shana’s and walked past the couch along the short hall to the kitchen. With Marc revived, he’d need food to speed his recovery. Too bad he hated veggie pizza.

  Shana trailed behind. “Can you believe how bad off he was?” She leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over her chest, brown eyes wide, a frown tugging at her lips.

  Cara opened her refrigerator and gathered the makings of a sandwich.

  “He was almost…dead.” Shana rubbed her arms.

  Cara withdrew a bottle of white wine from the fridge and handed it to Shana. “The brandy’s in the cupboard when you finish pouring the wine.” She placed two slices of bread on the counter and smeared on mayonnaise.

  Beside her, Shana poured wine and her shaking hands spilled some on the counter. “Damn it.” She set the bottle down and slid a hand to her forehead. “I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to him. It’s horrible.” Tears streamed down her face and sudden sobs wracked her body.

  Cara stopped spreading mayonnaise and placed the knife on the counter. She’d thought Shana wasn’t over her feelings for Marc and it seemed she was right. She gathered Shana in her arms. “You still love him, don’t you?”