Mortal Sight

by Sandra Fernandez Rhoads

Harper gasps. “What?” Her full, red lips drop wide open. “You’re hurt?”

  “Nah, I’m fine.”

  “Take off the jacket.” Harper stands and pulls at his sleeve.

  He winces. “I said I’m fine.”

  “Look at your hands.” They’re bright red with cuts and scrapes. “You are not fine.” Her voice raises an octave with each comment. “Were you going to fix this on your own? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m okay, really.” Maddox protests, but Harper manages to strip off the jacket. She frowns at my blood-soaked T-shirt wrapped around his forearm. “What did you do?”

  “Wrestled a metal pole. It got too close, that’s all.” Maddox gives her a wry smile, playing down our near-death experience.

  That’s such a lie. “It was more than that. We almost died.” I look at him. “I get that you’re a super tough guy, and all, but you’ve been bleeding out way too long.”

  Harper’s eyes widen. “Get into my room right now. My medical kit can’t fix this. You’re going to need antibiotics, stitches, and who knows what else. I could kill you myself, Maddox Carver.” She grabs her kit in one hand and him by the other. Maddox frowns and shoots me a disapproving look, but I couldn’t care less. He needs help for that wound. He’s clearly lying about how much pain he’s in, and the idiot wasn’t going to say anything, so I had to.

  “Take Cera with you and clean her up as well,” Devon says as Harper leads Maddox up the steps. “I’ll be there in a few.”

  Harper glances over her shoulder, irritated at my presence. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “I’ve already bandaged my cuts. I’m good.” As I plant my feet on the stone floor, a dull pain throbs in my side. Okay, maybe I’m not good, but at least I’m stable and not actively bleeding like Maddox. “Devon, I’ll go with you. The only thing I really need—besides food—is to find out how to destroy the Cormorants.”

  Devon doesn’t even entertain my idea. “Get your wounds checked, and then we’ll talk.” Before I can add a final protest, he jogs up the steps and heads toward the kitchen.

  I exhale. Fine. I’ll let Harper look at my side, and then I’ll hunt down Devon and corner him until I get the answers I need. But I swear, if Harper tries to hurt me, I’ll kick those perfectly straight teeth into the back of her throat. I hobble up the steps after Harper as she drags Maddox toward a narrow archway under the staircase. I maintain a ten-stone distance behind them. If I’m supposed to belong, then why do I feel as if every step down the hall is like walking straight into a viper’s nest?

  The minute I reach the sliding barn door halfway down the hall, the stringent smell of a nurse’s office assaults me. However, the sterile scent in no way matches Harper’s whimsical decor. A giant sunburst chandelier hangs in the center of the room, funky colorful throw rugs separate the two medical cots set against opposite walls on the right, and the rattan partition blocking off a room in the back gives the space a warm, Middle Eastern feel. Harper’s room is cozy and not at all as ascetic and heartless as I imagined. Even still, I won’t let my guard down, despite the look of her pseudo-dorm room—complete with a hand-stitched quilt neatly folded in a basket and a mini-fridge that’s probably stocked with fresh-squeezed cactus juice.

  “Lie down.” Harper guides Maddox by the shoulders, pushing him onto the cot—or massage table—set against the wall near the doorway. Between the cots—or beds, or whatever they call them—a gauzy, scarlet curtain on the brick wall tents a cedar shelf arranged with flickering candles in yellow glass canisters.

  She lets out a loud, annoyed breath as she sees me in the doorway. “Sit on the opposite bed and wait your turn.” She pulls a metal cart to her side and slams her medical kit on top.

  I’m not liking her bossy attitude. In fact, I hesitate crossing the threshold and reconsider entering her mystical lab. Maddox brushes Harper’s hands off of his shoulder. “Take care of Cera first. She needs it more than me.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that after I look at your arm.” She plants her hands on her hips and stares him down, daring him to defy her again. As much as I want to stay rooted at the doorway just to spite her, Devon won’t talk to me until I get my side checked out, so I’ve got no choice but to comply. I make my way to the empty bed and plop down—a bad move because now my side throbs even worse.

  Maddox leans back and swings his feet up on the table. “You’ll see my cut isn’t so bad.” He tries to stifle a groan, but Harper’s quick to pick up on his pain.

  “What? Don’t tell me you broke a rib too?” Harper lifts his shirt. She frowns at the nasty bruise forming on his side. “How did this happen?”

  “Can’t remember.” With a straight face, Maddox glances at me, then my elbow. Harper presses his ribs. Maddox winces. “Ouch. Okay. Yeah, that hurts.”

  I lean forward and stare at my shoes as I swing them over the polished concrete. His injury is my fault. I elbowed him when we were on the street. I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. Well, actually, that’s a lie. At the time I did mean it, but that was before . . . I take a deep breath and press my scuffed palms on the cool sheet.

  “What were you doing out there? Wait, no. Don’t answer.” Harper lifts her long fingers in the air to stop him from speaking. “I don’t want to know. It will just drive me crazy. I’ll look at the cut on your arm first, then I’ll deal with your side.”

  She gently unties my shirt scrap from around his forearm. “This thing is filthy.” She removes the makeshift bandage and sets it on the hammered metal cart. I can’t see the cut because Harper blocks my view as she sits next to him. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his bicep. Her fingertips curl as her hands rest on his bare skin. I shift on the cot and look away.

  Harper opens her eyes and glares at me. “I can’t feel what’s going on while you’re gawking at me. Stop moving and stay quiet.” She focuses her attention back to Maddox. “And you . . . stop withholding.”

  I’m not sure what Harper means about withholding, and I don’t care to know. The room is dead quiet except for the hum of the light bulbs in the chandelier, a few distant voices floating in from the café, and the whir of the mini-fridge. The door near the fridge is cracked open enough for me to see a few wooden tables and glass lab equipment in the room next to this one. I wait as quietly as possible while Harper places her palms on Maddox’s bare stomach for what seems an eternity.

  “One broken rib. No internal bleeding and you didn’t lose that much blood. That’s good.” Harper lets go of Maddox. “Your arm, on the other hand, is starting to get an infection. I’ll need to start a drip.” Harper sways through the room, gathering supplies from a cabinet near the mini-fridge. “You’re lucky I caught this when I did. Any longer and the infection could have gotten into your blood.”

  I sit back. “Wait, you can diagnose someone by placing your hands on them and . . . listening? How?”

  Harper’s haughty smirk makes me regret blurting out my question.

  “Told you Harper’s got mad gifting.” Maddox props himself up on one elbow as Harper sits on the rolling stool next to him.

  “That’s totally insane.” And downright terrifying. Although I don’t want picture-perfect Harper to know that the mere fact she can touch someone and know what’s going on inside freaks me out. “So you can touch my side and tell me I’m all good?” I lean back, letting my legs dangle. My side pulses with a splintering throb from where I was cut by shattered glass during the truck accident. I know I’m not good, but I’m tired of sitting around. “If not, how much longer before I can go talk to Devon?”

  “Not long.” Devon stands at the doorway. “How bad is his wound?” He watches as Harper assesses Maddox’s arm. His stance is casual, but he isn’t looking at Maddox or the gash on his arm.

  “Pretty deep, but luckily I caught the infection early.” Harper opens her medical box and whips out a few jars of green ointment, slathering a row of each on his arm, then sprays o
n the foam cleanser before pressing down with a bandage. I cringe, vicariously feeling the burn.

  Maddox watches as Harper wraps his arm. How is he not flinching? Maybe Harper really is that good at healing. Either that, or Maddox is a whole lot stronger than I am to endure the pain. “Told you it wasn’t bad. But even if it was, I’ve seen you patch up a lot worse.”

  His comment—and his grin—makes Harper twist her lips with a flirty smile. She stands up. “Hang tight. I’m not done with you. If the ointment doesn’t seal the wound, then you’ll need stitches.”

  Devon leans against the doorframe, his glance lingering on Harper. When she puts on gloves and preps Maddox’s arm for an IV, Devon pulls his eyes away and steps into the room. “And what about Cera?”

  “She’s next.” Harper glances over her shoulder at me. “She’s a little more complicated.”

  Story of my life. But how would she know just by looking at me? I thought she needed to “listen,” or whatever.

  “She’s a tough read, for sure.” Devon looks away when Harper pricks Maddox’s arm with the needle. Maddox stares at the ceiling and doesn’t flinch. “Cera.” Devon focuses his attention back to me. “I’m going to have you test for all Bents. That way we can see which one—or two—show up the strongest.”

  “You want her to practice being a Healer?” Harper sounds ultraoffended. I’m not after her spotlight, if that’s what she thinks. I can’t diagnose anyone by laying my hands on them the way she can, that’s for sure.

  “That would be a waste of time. If healing doesn’t kill the creatures, then I don’t really want any part of it.” I sit up. “Can’t you just tell me how it’s done so I can get out of here?”

  Devon comes my way. “You’ve never brought one in that’s wanted to leave as soon as she got here, Maddox. Usually they’re desperate to stay.”

  I’m not going to lie, there is a tiny part of me warring to stay cloistered in their community, but . . . “There are horrible beast-birds out there that need to be stopped—”

  “Killing any creature isn’t going to happen unless you know the realm you’re dealing with and you have the Bent to do it.” Devon’s voice is firm. If I’m reading his stern expression right, he wants me to stop pushing the issue. I open my mouth to badger him when he holds out something wrapped in tinfoil. “Brought you my favorite.”

  Harper snatches the gift from his hands before I can. “She doesn’t eat until I listen to her. I don’t want her puking your cranberry turkey wrap all over me if I’ve got to work on her.”

  I frown. Now I really wish I could eat the turkey.

  Harper places the sandwich on the shelf next to the candles. The flames cower with the sudden draft but quickly rebound, growing tall and steady again. After removing her gloves, Harper checks the fluid dripping through the tube and into Maddox’s arm. “Stay put for ten minutes, will you?” She crosses to the rattan screen and faces me. “Back here.” Again with the bossy attitude? Harper moves the screen aside enough for me to go into the dimly lit room.

  I stay planted on the cot, but Devon nods, telling me to obey. Fine. I slide off the bed and shuffle into the cramped space. The weighted air tastes of damp wool doused in antiseptic. Lovely.

  “Strip off that shirt and those jeans and wait for me on the table.” Harper closes the partition most of the way but leaves it open enough for me to see her back at Maddox’s side. She urges him to sit up, and then she picks an elastic bandage out of her medical box. I shut the partition all the way and move to the back corner near the oxygen tank and blood pressure monitor and kick off my tennis shoes.

  As I bend over to peel off my jeans, splintering pain shoots through my side. I gasp. My skin turns clammy. I lean on the corner of the bed for support and hope I don’t pass out.

  “You okay?” Maddox calls out.

  My pulse races and I kick off the jeans. “Totally fine.” Totally a lie, but I don’t want anyone rushing in here while I’m half dressed.

  “Harper, go check on her.” Devon sounds concerned but still far enough away from the partition. “I need to talk to Maddox for a minute.”

  I slip the shirt over my head as Harper’s flats patter against the concrete in my direction.

  Whatever is wrong with me is bad—like see-a-doctor bad. I know Maddox trusts Harper, but she’s only a year or two older than me. There’s no way she’s gone through medical school.

  “On the table. Sit.” Harper slides into the room, fully closing the screen behind her, and flips on the light switch.

  “Can you make this quick? It’s super cold in here.” I try not to fidget as I sit on the table in complete embarrassment. Without a cover-up, my lack of curves is apparent, especially compared to her.

  She gives me a quick once-over and hands me a stiff white towel that barely covers my thighs. This is Harper’s version of a blanket? “Lie down.” She turns her back and heads to a cart near the partition, then pulls out a few supplies, including a headlamp. “And turn to the side, if you can.”

  Maybe I do what she tells me because I want this over with so I can talk to Devon, or maybe it’s because of the daunting surgical tweezers Harper holds between her fingers. The more attitude I give her, the more pain she might inflict. I lie down and do what she asks without putting up a fight.

  She gets to work tugging at the bandage on my side. I half expected her fingers to be as cold as the stare she shot me earlier, but they’re surprisingly warm. Removing the medical tape doesn’t hurt, but the cold air brushing against my exposed wound does.

  As soon as Harper sees my injury, her haughty snarl transforms into a concentrated expression. I tense up when her fingers brush lightly against my skin near the wound. Unlike the way she leaned in close with Maddox, Harper stands straight and stares down at me before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

  I focus on the stucco ceiling, trying not to shiver, and more than a little worried about what she might find. What if she can read thoughts when she’s listening? Is that even possible? I don’t chance it. I search for random images on the textured ceiling and try not to think about how super awkward and vulnerable it is to lie here in my underwear with the tiny towel draped over me while her fingers press near my wound. I stay still even though the cut itches with tiny electrical pulses. A million seconds later, Harper opens her eyes.

  “What did you find?” The words croak through my dry throat.

  Harper frowns and doesn’t answer me. Instead she reaches up and turns on the medical lamp. I cover my eyes with my arm at the blinding burst of light. Her fingers tap along the edge of the cut. I hold my breath, ready to bring my knee to her pixie nose if she does anything to hurt me. “There’s the nasty sucker,” she mumbles under her breath.

  “What?” I lift my head.

  Again, Harper ignores me. She presses her painted red lips together and takes out a purple vial from her pocket. “You’re going to need a sip of this.” She pours a small amount into a plastic top.

  The liquid smells like hard liquor. “I don’t drink.”

  “It’s not alcohol. Don’t be stupid. Take it.” Harper holds the cap near my lips. “Unless you want to pass out from the pain.”

  Devon shuffles to the partition. “You all right back there?” I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Harper.

  Harper eyes me, lying exposed on the table. To my surprise she says, “We’re fine. I’ll be done in a few minutes. Just waiting on the serum to numb the pain so I can get a piece of glass out of her side.”

  Glass? No wonder my wound hurts so much. Harper holds out the tiny cup again, this time raising her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, waiting. I know my small window of her grace is closing fast. I take the cap and swallow the cherry liquid in one sip. It burns going down my throat. She’s right. It’s not liquor. The thick syrup is something else entirely.

  “I’m right here if you need help.” Devon sounds a little too close to the rattan screen.

  “We’re finishing up.” Harpe
r takes the empty cap and counts under her breath. With each number, her gaze shifts as if she’s tracking the serum’s path through my body. “Nine . . . and ten. Should be good by now. Now, take a deep breath and don’t move.” After putting on some gloves, Harper picks up the medical tweezers. I concentrate on Devon’s footsteps stomping away and how Harper’s fingers pull my skin. I hold my breath. My foot twitches, telling me to run, but I can’t. All I can do is lie here and trust that Harper knows what she’s doing. I squeeze my eyes shut and curl my fists at my side.

  “You can tell, can’t you?” Maddox’s low whisper carries through the partition and burrows into my ears.

  “She’s a Legacy, for sure.” Devon also whispers, but he’s not as quiet. “You’d know that if you got to Council every once in a while and finished training.”

  “I’m not wasting my time in some protective huddle just to rank up like Gray wants me to. Not when Council isn’t doing anything to find new Awakened and let them know they’re not alone.”

  I open my eyes. Harper adjusts the headlamp and glances at the partition before taking a deep breath.

  Devon raises his voice. “Let someone else—”

  “Who, Devon? I’m doing exactly what a Guardian is supposed to be doing.”

  Harper zeros the light from her headlamp on the wound and grips the tweezers so tight her fingertips turn white.

  “When you’re on active duty—after you’ve completed your training—sure. But not when you’re still ranked a second-class apprentice that barely started the program. I can’t keep covering for you while you disappear for days without checking in. Not to mention that stunt you tried with the Cormorants.”

  I lift my head. “Should we tell them to be quiet? I mean, if you need—”

  “I can do it.” Harper frowns and turns off the headlamp. “I just need a few extra supplies, that’s all.”

  I prop myself up on my elbow. Bad idea because pain digs at my side. I lower myself back down. “You sure—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” Her eyes are more piercing than the cut on my side. “I’ve fixed worse, trust me.” She stands and marches to the bathroom door.