Mallory left Jameson’s side and came to sit next to me. She put her hand on my neck and gave it a squeeze, then worked her fingers over the muscles. I felt my shoulders drop in relief. “This has really got you worried, I can tell.”
“It should have all of us worried,” I said. “If this comic book is right, we’re going to a formal event that’s going to turn deadly. We can’t ignore something like that.”
“I agree,” Mallory said. “I’m meeting with one of the top PG guys tonight. He’s prepping me to meet the vice president. If you want, I can give it to him and let him take it from there.”
I knew she wasn’t an official massage therapist, but she really had a knack for loosening up muscles. The tension melted away. “Yeah, that would be good,” I said. “Make sure you say that Samuel Specter had the power to see the future and that the events in the story really might happen. Tell them they need to beef up security and be extra careful who they let in the door.”
“I will.”
“And tell them to call Nadia and warn her.”
“Yes. Got it.”
“You have to really emphasize it or they’ll think it’s just a kid’s comic book.”
“I will. I Promise.”
For the tiniest, briefest moment, I doubted her, but it went by in a flash. Mallory had promised and her word was good enough for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Russ
After dinner, Mallory and her chaperone Rosie left to go to a briefing about Vice President Montalbo. Presumably, the more she knew about him, the easier it would be to get her hands on him and apply her mind control magic. Mallory had changed clothes and was now wearing a sundress she’d gotten when she and Jameson went shopping that afternoon. She also had a pair of large sunglasses perched atop her head, even though we were hundreds of feet underground without a real sunbeam in sight. As they got up to go, I reminded Mallory about the comic book and she patted the side of her bag. “Don’t worry about it, Russ. I’ve got it right here.”
Jameson’s chore for the evening was to take another dance lesson. Frankly, I gave him credit for trying but I thought it was pretty much hopeless. His long legs were way too spastic to ever keep in time to the music, but another lesson couldn’t hurt. Maybe this new dance teacher wouldn’t hit him with a fan and he’d be able to relax a little. With any luck he’d improve enough not to step on Mallory’s feet the night of the Bash.
As for me and Carly, we were summoned back to the hospital for another healing session with President Bernstein. Dr. Wentworth came to escort us and we followed along just like before. On the subway, she filled us in.
“This evening while you’re out, your things are being moved from the hotel to luxury suites. You’re not going to be sharing rooms anymore. It’s a security measure. Each of you will have your own space from now on. We’re supplying you with formal clothes for the Black Tie Bash. You’ll be fitted and coached on what will be expected of you.”
“Me too?” Carly asked.
“Yes, you'll be getting your own suite too.” Dr. Wentworth said.
“No, I mean what about my formal wear?” Carly asked. "I didn't bring anything appropriate.” She didn't own anything appropriate, is what she meant. How many people have something in their closet they could wear to a Presidential Bash? Prom clothes maybe, but Carly was way too old for prom and she never was the prom type in the first place.
“That won’t be necessary for you.”
“What do you mean it's not necessary? Didn’t you hear me? I said I didn’t bring anything I could wear to a formal event.”
“Which is fine because you won't be attending the Bash.”
“Wait a minute.” Carly said, her voice rising. The other passengers in the subway glanced over to see who was causing a ruckus. “What do you mean I won't be attending the Bash? The deal was that I go wherever Russ goes.”
“No, the deal was that you're lucky to even be here at all. You're a chaperone. Chaperoning the trip. That doesn't give you carte blanche to go anywhere you want and you’re certainly not going to be attending the Bash.”
Carly lowered her voice. “I was under the impression I would be going.”
“Your impression was incorrect.” Dr. Wentworth said. The loudspeaker announced the next stop. “That would be us.” She stood up and walked briskly to the door, motioning to me and Carly to join her.
Carly wasn’t going to leave it at that. “I don’t think you understand. I need to be at the Bash. I can’t let Russ go alone.”
The doors slid open and Dr. Wentworth stepped out full speed ahead. “Come along,” she said without turning around.
“Did you hear me?” Carly said, tapping her on the shoulder. “If I don’t go, Russ doesn’t go.”
This got Dr. Wentworth’s attention. She stopped, and we practically ran into her. “Now you listen to me,” she said curtly. “This isn’t a negotiation and it isn’t personal. Not everyone is going to the Bash. I’m not going, none of the other chaperones are going. This is a Praetorian Guard mission.” She leaned her head in and lowered her voice. “We’re already taking a risk by involving teenagers with superpowers. We don’t need overly emotional family members there to screw things up. And don’t tell me you’re not overly emotional.” She jabbed a finger in Carly’s direction. “Because clearly you are.” The three of us were standing in the middle of a pedestrian path and oncoming walkers had to go around us. We were the clog in the pipe.
Carly folded her arms. “If I don’t go, Russ doesn’t go. And that’s final.”
Dr. Wentworth sighed. “Well let’s put that to the test, shall we?” She turned her attention to me. “Russ, if your sister is not allowed to go to the Bash, do you still want to go?”
“Absolutely. I’m going no matter what.”
Carly glared at me, but Dr. Wentworth looked vindicated. There was no way I could have made both of them happy, so I had to choose for myself.
“Okay, then,” Dr. Wentworth said. “The subject is officially closed.”
Now that the subject was officially closed, Carly didn’t seem to have any more to say but in one small sign of rebellion she snapped her gum every ten yards or so.
At the hospital we followed the same route as earlier in the day, walking hallway after hallway, going through multiple doors and up an elevator. The Authorized Personnel Only signs were everywhere and we ignored all of them since we were apparently authorized. The guard at the first set of doors nodded when they saw Dr. Wentworth’s laminated card. From there she entered numbers into a punch pad in the elevator. When we exited the elevator we faced what I knew would be the last locked door. Once again, she lined her eyes up in front of a recognition scanner. When a woman’s voice said, “Maxine Wentworth, welcome. Please state today’s password,” I knew what the password would be.
“Russ Becker,” Dr. Wentworth said making each syllable clear and distinct. And then we were through.
Having been there once, everything was now familiar. I knew the corridor and could have found the president’s room myself, but I let Dr. Wentworth take the lead. When we arrived at the room Dr. Karke stood alongside President Bernstein’s bed but he wasn’t the only one in attendance. Sitting in a chair on the other side, holding his wife’s hand, was Mr. Bernstein, the first gentleman of the United States. Dr. Karke said, “Oh here they are now,” as if they’d known we were on our way.
Mr. Bernstein stood up to greet us. I’d seen photos of him many times, but never looking like this. His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and he had an overall rumpled appearance like he’d slept in his clothing. His hair too, looked like it could use a combing. And his eyes and nose were red as if he had a bad cold or had been crying. When he caught sight of me, his expression turned to one of hope. “You’re the one who’s going to heal my wife?” he asked, clasping my arm.
“I’m going to do my best, sir.”
Dr. Karke regarded me warily. “This is Russ Becker, his sister Carly, and one o
f my colleagues, Dr. Wentworth. As I told you before, there are no guarantees—”
“No, no, no.” Mr. Bernstein wagged a finger in his direction. “I don’t want to hear it. I refuse to hear it. We must stay positive.”
Mr. Bernstein spoke directly to me, “You, young man, what have you done?” Seeing my puzzled expression he clarified. “When you healed other people. What problems did they have?”
“What he’s done before is really not relevant to this case,” Dr. Karke said. “Medically this is a difficult situation and I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“Why not?” Mr. Bernstein said sharply. “All I’ve got right now is hope. Why would you take that away from me?”
Dr. Karke exhaled and looked down at the president’s immobile body, slowly shaking his head. “I’m not taking anything away from you, sir. Just advising you to keep your expectations realistic.”
“Could you please do me a favor?” Mr. Bernstein said. “Could you please take your realistic expectations and leave the room while the boy works on my wife? I don’t want your negative energy anywhere near her.”
The room filled with awkward silence until Dr. Wentworth said, “I’ll be here to cover for you.” Dr. Karke took his clipboard and left, his hard-soled shoes clicking against the linoleum as he went out the door.
“Now I will ask you again, son, what other healing have you done?”
You know how sometimes you meet someone and you like them right away? I mean like within two or three minutes? That is exactly how I felt about Mr. Bernstein. I wasn’t expecting to like him because his daughter was kind of a snob, but I’m guessing that was no reflection on him. He seemed like a good guy, a man who loved his wife, and someone who knew his own mind. I said, “I’ve healed bullet wounds, teething pain, electrocution, skin cuts, an intestinal problem on an infant, and I once revived an elderly woman from near death after a heart attack.” There might have been more, but those were the ones that came to mind.
“Really?” Mr. Bernstein said with enthusiasm. “Very good. A regular miracle worker you are.” He gripped my shoulder. “And now you are going to heal my wife.”
“I’m going to try my best, sir.”
Dr. Wentworth said, “Russ was here earlier and said it might take a few times before we see results.” I could tell she was trying to do the same thing Dr. Karke had done—let him down gently. She had a better way about it though.
Mr. Bernstein nodded. “Of course. I understand. But before you begin, may I ask a favor of all of you?” He waited until we’d all responded affirmatively and then held out both arms. “Would you join me in prayer?”
On the other side of the bed Carly reached over and took his hand, and indicated with a nod of her head that I should take the other. Dr. Wentworth looked a little uncomfortable, but must have decided to go with it. When we were all joined there were two of us on each side of the bed, our arms linked over the president’s body.
Mr. Bernstein prayed for his wife’s recovery, he prayed for the safety of the nation and for world peace. “And last, but certainly not least,” he said, “If it’s your will, please help Russ Becker to do your good work.”
Mr. Bernstein’s eyes were closed and it was quiet for a minute until Carly said, “Amen,” more out of reflex than anything else, I think, because she hadn’t been inside a church in years. Dr. Wentworth repeated, “Amen,” and then we let go of each other’s hands and the praying was done.
Mr. Bernstein said, “Go ahead, Russ. Do what you need to do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Nadia
When we got home from the hospital I dug out the business card PG officials had left behind the day they’d tried to get my mother to listen to their presentation. My mom had thrown the card out, but I’d retrieved it from the trash and hidden it in my sock drawer. No one ever looks underneath the socks, at least not in my house.
The card looked official, embossed and glossy. At the top it said: National High School Student Initiative – Rewarding High School Students for Distinguished Academic Achievement. Underneath was the guy’s name, “Preston Moore,” along with his number and email address. The NHSSI website address was at the very bottom. I flipped over the card and read where someone had written, “We’d love to provide Nadia with the opportunities she deserves—completely funded by the NHSSI of course.”
I don’t think my mom had even glanced at it before she tossed it out, but I’d read it over dozens of time. Read it and wished I could go on the trip and be with Russ. And now I could.
When I ran downstairs to give the card to my dad I found him sitting quietly on the couch, the television remote in one hand like he was considering using it. I handed the card to him and he set the remote down to look. “Very good, Nadia. I’ll call in the morning.”
I plunked myself down on the other end of the couch. “Thanks, Dad.” My mom’s cat, Barry, walked into the room, let out one lonely yowl and then went into the kitchen and did the same thing, then moved on to the next room. Yowl, move, repeat. Calling for my mom.
Dad looked in the direction of the yowling, sighed heavily, rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “What a nightmare this has been.”
“I know.” I knew where he was coming from, but I wanted to say that I thought it was good my mom was getting help, that things had been going downhill for a long time and it was too much for him to keep on top of, but I sensed he wouldn’t agree with me. He liked saving her, being the one to keep things steady. And he loved her too, crazy as that sounded, even to me. She wasn’t always so mean and unbalanced. Sometimes she could be sweet and thoughtful. The problem was that you never knew which side of her was going to pop up until after it came out. And it could switch just as quickly.
He opened his eyes and held the card between two fingers. “You don’t mind going away? I don’t want you to feel like you’re being banished. None of this is your fault, you know.”
“No, I don’t mind,” I said. “You know Mallory? She’ll be there.”
He nodded. “Nice girl, that Mallory.”
“And I have a good shot at getting a scholarship through this organization. That would be good.”
“You deserve a scholarship. You work hard, always studying and learning. I am so very proud of you, Nadia. I know I don’t say it often enough.”
I didn’t remember him ever saying it, but this didn’t seem like the right time to bring that up. As I watched he rested his head in his hands again and began trembling ever so slightly. And then the trembling became shaking. I realized with horror that my father was crying. I had never seen him cry and it was unsettling because he was supposed to be the steady, strong one. If he fell apart, what would happen to me and my mom?
I slid next to him and put my arm over his back. “It’ll be okay, Dad, you’ll see.”
He coughed. “You think so?”
“We’ve been on a downward slide for awhile now. Once Mom is on the right medication and she sees I can leave the house and not have anything catastrophic happen, she can relax and maybe let go a little bit. Who knows, maybe I can even go out with friends or have them over here. We could be like a normal family. Wouldn’t that be something?”
Dad looked at me amazed. “Would you even want to have friends come over?”
“Well sure. Of course.”
“Really?”
“Well yes, you know that.”
“But your mother always told me…never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“No, keep going. What did she say?”
“I was under the impression that socializing was extremely stressful for you. That you felt safer at home with all the alarms and everything. So nothing could get to you.”
“Oh Dad.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “Have you ever known a girl my age that wanted to hang out with her parents and the cat night after night?”
“I guess not.” His voice was sad. “It’s just after you were attacked on the bus, you seemed to prefer to
stay home. Right?”
“That was four years ago, Dad. And since then I’ve been to—” I stopped to think, almost saying ‘Peru’ but catching myself, “Miami and coped just fine.”
“Yes, you did.” He set the business card on the coffee table. “First thing tomorrow we’ll see if the offer still stands. If it does, you will go on this trip. That will give me time to figure out what your mother needs. You’re absolutely sure you don’t mind going?”
“I’m sure.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Russ
I leaned over the president and held my palms over her head, trying to get a reading on what was happening underneath the dark hair, pale skin, and the hard shell of her skull bone. I sensed that beneath the layers, she was more aware than the doctors gave her credit for. She’d heard her husband’s prayer and drawn comfort from it, and even added a prayer of her own. Mentally she’d been able to tabulate who was in the room and where each person was located. There was nothing wrong with her brain, it just wasn’t able to send signals to the rest of her body just yet.
I was hyper aware of my surroundings as well. When I heard Mr. Bernstein say to Carly, “Is there something we should be doing to help?” I sensed the slight shake of her head, as if the movement created a stir of air which then radiated out to me.
I closed my eyes and willed my energy to enter the president. I pulled the love I felt from her husband and directed it toward her, so that the damaged areas were bombarded with positive rays. Mr. Bernstein hadn’t been too far off making Dr. Karke leave the room. There was no time for negativity here.
Normally if you hold your arms out zombie-like, they eventually get tired, but when I was doing the healing work it was another thing altogether. Hard to put into words. I almost felt like I was channeling energy from somewhere else and it was just coming through me. Maybe the lux spiral was the originator and I was the connection. My arms didn’t get tired because they were being held up by energy from outside of my body. The energy radiated off my hands and jumped the gap between me and the president. All of her muscles, tissue, blood vessels, and bones, were waiting to be nourished, and the places that needed it the most absorbed the energy and went to work repairing the damage. I felt a sigh coming from the president. At first I thought it was just a thought in her head, but when Mr. Bernstein gasped, I knew it had been audible.
Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 71