My skin started to burn and I rolled over onto my belly as the bliss of her pain and fear rolled through me.
The man with the burns—I felt the echo of the fire as it tore through his skin and I shuddered, agonized ecstasy ripping hooked fingers through me.
A frail older woman, her heart … I groaned and gripped my chest.
Lungs, weakened by years of smoking, struggling to breathe—I arched, heaving.
The small, small child—
I shoved my face into my pillow and keened out in grief. A child’s agony is unlike any other and the monster in me delighted in it so much.
Nauseous, I rolled onto my side and tried to breathe.
I hate this—
A calmer, quieter voice finally broke past the laughing, cruel cackle that tried to overwhelm me.
They live, it whispered. Crooned. Soothed.
They lived.
This is the way of misery—my way. First, I suffer. Then I accept.
The nausea faded, and I knew the woman and her baby would be fine.
The burned man—I saw him as he would be when I was done. I’d leave him with a rash, an ugly one that would bother him like hell for a few days. It was a trick I’d developed. The rough skin would slough off and when it was gone, the scars would be gone.
The woman with COPD—her lungs would never be as strong as she wanted, but she would walk without feeling like she was suffocating. Whether she’d stop smoking and have a few more years, that was her choice, but I’d done what I could.
The child … well, I hadn’t made her walk.
But I’d fixed her broken and twisted bowels. She wouldn’t wake up tomorrow burning with a fever from a bladder infection.
Eventually, the emotions in my head, the misery and easing of it stopped crashing and swelling inside me, coming to an uneasy sort of peace.
Sleep.
I’d sleep—right there …
The sound had me coming up off the bed and landing in a crouch. Too many years of fleeing from those who might yet hunt me had me drawing a weapon. There were several I liked and kept close. A gun, because the awful, bloody violence of it appealed to the monster in me. And a blade, for the opposite reason. It was clean and elegant.
I went for the blade.
It was as long as my forearm, the metal matte black—it didn’t reflect any light, not that there was much of it in my room. I’d stopped using anything but black-bladed weapons after a flash of light reflecting off a blade had almost ended in my capture nearly a decade ago.
I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not ever.
Head cocked, I listened.
They were quiet. I couldn’t even hear the faintest brush of a shoe on the busted and pitted pavement outside. They were out there, though. I heard them, out on the farthest edges of the parking lot.
I crept to the walls.
I hadn’t turned on the lights. I’m just as at home in the shadows and darkness as I am in the light. Comes from living in a perpetual gloom for the first two or three decades of my life. What might seem an unending, unyielding blackness to others was no hindrance to me. Placing one foot in front of the other, carefully taking each step, I made my way to the window, stopping just at the edge of the frame so I could peer out.
Behind me, the air in the room stirred.
There was no sound to indicate who it was, but I knew, nonetheless.
“They are clever, aren’t they?” I said softly.
Saleel’s scarred hand touched my shoulder. “Shall I take care of them?”
In Saleel’s mind, there was only one way to take care of something.
I shook my head.
If I really wanted to take care of them, we both knew I could do it myself. Just as we both knew that Saleel considered it his job. His … duty. Even an honor.
“No,” I said. They were closer now. I couldn’t see her, which was an oddity, considering how pale she was. I could barely see him, but he was a witch. I could smell a witch a mile away. One that pretty was worth keeping an eye on, too.
“I wonder what they want.”
“They don’t approve of you,” Saleel said, and his disgust was so thick, I could have spread it on a slice of toast.
I slid him a smirk over my shoulder. “Neither did you … once.”
His eyes, nearly black even in the bright of day, held mine. “I did not make a judgment simply because I saw you spread your hands out over a room of ill people.”
“No. You judged me for a different reason entirely.” I gave him an arch look.
A grim smile curled his lips.
Our history was complicated.
Very complicated.
I held out a hand. “Come. I’m not in the mood for distractions tonight.”
I could practically taste his annoyance as he placed his hand in mine. He must have been in the mood to play cat and mouse.
Poor Saleel.
Chapter Three
It was my last night here.
Jody was annoyed, rushing around and doing everything that needed to be done before we left.
Normally, she had more time, but I’d decided that morning it was time to go.
I’d told her I simply felt it was time to move on, and I knew she wouldn’t argue or ask questions.
If only I could get the same mindless obedience from Saleel.
“Is it those two peasants?”
“Peasants, Saleel? Really?”
Saleel smiled. Then he reached out.
The look in his eyes all but froze me in place, my breath locking in my lungs as he traced a callous-roughened fingertip down my neck. I could remember the first time he’d touched me, well over a hundred and fifty years ago. “My goddess … compared to you, all are peasants.”
My chest went tight.
Before I could act on the emotions he caused within me, I caught his wrist and squeezed. “Now’s not the time, Sal,” I whispered.
“It’s never the time, is it, mistress?” he asked softly. He tugged away and I let go, breaking the minor contact. “You did not answer me. We’re leaving two weeks earlier than planned. Is it because of those … people from last night?”
His deliberate pause made me smile, but I sighed and turned away.
When I didn’t answer immediately, he turned to the window at the far end of my trailer.
It faced out over the marsh. Although I spent little time here when there wasn’t a meeting, I could stare out over that stillness and pretend I had some semblance of privacy.
Saleel needed the same thing, the peace of nothingness.
As I continued to play with the makeup I never wore, I pondered my answer. The makeup kept Jody happy. If I sat at the brightly lit table for five minutes, she insisted it made such a difference, although I never put on so much as a speck of it. It went on the brushes, on the tissues—on the table, but never on my face. It felt fake and out of place.
It was a simple thing and it made Jody happy. Jody, you see, has no idea I’m not human.
She thinks I’m one of the rare, truly gifted faith healers, but she still firmly believes I’m human.
She’s sweet.
It will be a shame to leave her behind, but I’ve been with her for nearly three years now and sometime soon, I’ll have to find somebody else.
Saleel is the only permanent fixture in my life.
“No,” I said finally. “Or at least, it’s not all because of them.”
“Good.”
I glanced up just as he turned to face me. In the mirror, I studied him.
A heavy black brow arched and a smile that was both beautiful and cruel twisted his lips.
“That means I do not have to linger after the show and silence them.” He paused a moment.
That brief pause told me everything I needed to know.
“They’re here, then.”
He inclined his head.
Sighing, I tossed the blusher down. “I’m not surprised.” Then I spun around on the padded stool
and pointed at him. “You’ll leave them be. They’re no threat to me.”
“You think the boy is intriguing. That alone is reason enough for me.”
“Oh?” Coming off the stool, I stormed over to him and caught the front of his shirt in my hand. “You were … intrigued by some tart working the diner in Tallahassee a few months back. She’s still breathing.”
He cupped my cheek.
“You’re the only woman who has ever intrigued me, mistress,” Saleel said quietly.
Then he stepped away, moving around to stand at the window yet again. “These two … they bring clouds with them.”
Clouds.
Dread wrapped a sticky, cold fist around me. It had been a long time since Saleel had spoken of clouds.
“What sort of clouds, Saleel?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t know.”
“I …” He hesitated. Then he shrugged and in a stilted voice, he lied. “I do not know, mistress.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
The lights in the trailer flickered as he turned slowly to face me. A smile ghosted across his face. He’d never be called handsome. He’d spent too many years in a place so cruel even hell wouldn’t do it justice, and the damage left on him went deeper than the few scars scattered on his face. The shadows lingering on him even now would make even the most foolish hesitate before crossing him.
But Saleel had something most men would never possess—not if they lived ten of his lifetimes.
He gave me a mocking bow. “I would never dare, my angel.”
“I’m going to hurt you,” I warned.
“Indeed.” Saleel looked mildly interested.
“I’m ordering you to tell me, Saleel.”
Now he bowed his head. “And I would obey. But it goes against the first vow I gave you.”
My blood went cold.
Slowly, I turned my head, staring toward the tent.
“Son of a bitch …”
“Wait.”
But I ignored him.
I’d almost cleared the door when Saleel closed his hand around my arm. “Would you involve others even if it meant getting them killed, Frankie?”
I like to think that I’m an intelligent female. I’ve lived … well, I can’t exactly say a good long life—for my kind, some would consider me still a babe in arms. But I like to think I’ve got a wealth of experience behind me and while I don’t like to brag, I consider myself wise—especially considering I’m often surrounded by humans.
I’m not saying I consider humans stupid or lesser.
On the contrary, I envy the mortals I come across. They’re born. They live. They die. There is struggle involved, and some struggle more than others, but many find happiness, even purpose.
I’ve had more struggle than not and while I’ve got a purpose, I’ve been struggling to fulfill it for two or three times the typical human lifespan and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever see that purpose come to fruition.
Humans aren’t stupid, at all. They’re simply limited by their circumstances. Limited by their lifespans. Limited by the living and the dying, by the constant barriers they put in front of themselves, by the barriers they let society place upon them.
Those who chose to knock those barriers down? Those are the ones I really envy and more often than not, those are the ones I pull up onto the stage in front of me—not always, but often.
Shoot me.
If some fool chooses to go through their life with blinders on and then comes to me for help, I’m not as likely to offer them the help they desire—it’s the one who chose kindness over cruelty, the one who chooses to give a smile rather than an insult who’ll stir my heart. When I have a choice, of course.
Yes, I like to think I’m an intelligent female, and when I have a choice, I’m moved to help the ones I feel deserve it. But sometimes, even I get a kick in the arse—it’s like I’m being reminded … Who are you to decide who is deserving … suffering is suffering!
It was the loudmouth troglodyte who caught my eye when I moved in through the opening of the tent. He was mocking everyone and everything—and the pain coming from him was enough to take even my breath away.
Worse, he was the sickest one in the lot.
He had a sickly pallor to him, his skin shiny and pale, his eyes sunken. Experience told me that he was dying. I didn’t even have to read him to know. But I did anyway.
If I didn’t help him, he would soon be dead.
Setting my jaw, I skimmed the rest of the crowd, hoping I’d see somebody else, but I already knew what I was going to do. As much as I disliked the nasty thoughts brewing inside the man’s head, I hated the misery more. I was drawn to the suffering and I wanted it, even as much as I wanted to ease it.
“Isn’t he a shining pillar of humanity?”
Jody said it through gritted teeth as we moved across the stage. I slid her a look.
She rolled her eyes. “He yelled at me because it’s hot in here. It’s Florida in July!”
“You don’t need to remind me,” I said. My clothes were already sticking to me. Maybe Saleel had the right idea. Some place cool. Some place where the breeze whispered of ice and snow instead of sweat and summer. I stopped in my normal spot as the frenzy of the crowd rose higher. My gaze was tracking over the people. I didn’t see the ones I sought, though.
I didn’t doubt Saleel, but they weren’t in here—not yet.
Jody moved onto the podium, the bright orange of her traditional robe falling to her elbows as she lifted her hands in a call for silence. “Welcome!”
Voices rose a little higher and then started to drop, whispers scurrying like mice among them.
Is that her? She looks so young—did you hear? Man, her eyes … Looks like a model …
“Hey! What are them freaks doin’ in here?”
“The troglodyte,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t even have to look at him to know.
And I didn’t have to follow the direction of his outstretched hand to know who he was pointing at, either.
I did both.
Sometimes, I hate being right.
It happened quickly.
“What’s going on?” Jody asked, watching the crowd gathering around Saleel, the troublemaker, and the … well, the other two troublemakers. Maybe they hadn’t come with the intent to cause trouble—and the jury was still out on that, but they’d caused trouble, nonetheless.
As Jody wobbled on her stilt-like heels to get a better look, I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever it is, I’m sure Sal will handle it.”
“Well, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “He handles everything.”
Then she groaned. “Honey, no. That guy …”
“Everybody suffers,” I reminded her. “And he’s dying.”
Saleel was escorting the troublemaker my way. Now that he was closer, I let myself look deeper. It was no more pleasant than I’d expected. His name was Jeremy. He had some sort of problem with his kidneys—no, kidney—and was already on dialysis.
His thoughts were so full of bile, it was a miracle the poison there hadn’t already killed him.
“You going to heal them, too?” he demanded, jutting his chin in the direction of the other two waiting just off the edge of the dais.
I gave him a calm smile as Saleel led him closer.
Saleel didn’t leave, either.
Good, because this wasn’t going to be one of my nice little … okay, I make no promises, but go home and get some rest … sweet little deals.
He’d come into my place and he’d threatened people under my roof.
Screw the fact that it was just a damn tent.
People here were under my protection.
That’s just all there was to it.
This man needed healing so many ways, because he was broken.
I caught his face and jerked him close.
“Hey!”
He tried to break away.
Should I mention I’m so much stronger than I l
ook? I look pretty damn strong.
Even the crowd around us realized something was going on.
Jody backed away.
Saleel stepped between the crowd and us—regardless of the season, he wore a coat that fell to his ankles and the ubiquitous black blocked those closer up. A moment later, movement from the corner of my eye had me tensing, and I heard a low, threatening rumble from Saleel.
My instincts processed—and then I said, “Easy, Sal. Easy …”
And still, I pushed inside Jeremy’s mind.
This man who was broken not just in physical ways but right down to the core.
He staggered away when I finally let go. Staggered and then hit his knees with enough force that it bruised him. That was the only physical pain he felt now, though, his one kidney functioning at full capacity for the first time in years. I moved with him, still staring into his eyes.
At some time in the few minutes, Saleel had caused the lights to flicker and then die. He never missed a trick. Many of the people nearest the front had rushed to the back, where the light from the moon gave them something to see by. A few were trying to use phones as a light source, but that never worked.
People often brought their numerous gadgets—their phones and other tech toys—but those things … well, they don’t tend to work well around me.
I might have something to do with it. It’s not a hard thing—pump some electromagnetic energy into the air and they all go a little crazy. It’s just a matter of finding the right level—enough to keep them from functioning properly, without breaking them.
“Do you know,” I said softly, holding his eyes, “the only person who realized they were … freaks is you, Jeremy.”
Jeremy sucked in a breath. “How do you know my name?”
“That’s easy.” I smiled and tapped his skull. “It’s right here. I just looked.”
His eyes widened.
“Do you know how you knew they were freaks?” I hunkered closer, ignoring the people at my back. It wasn’t that they didn’t concern me. I was almost certain I could handle them—even the two of them at once. But I’m no fool. The reason I didn’t worry about them was because of Saleel. He stood between me and danger more times than I can count, and that gave me the time to focus on Jeremy.
Misery's Way: A Kit Colbana World Story Page 2