“Is this where Daria Gresham is?” The woman’s voice was old and weak sounding.
Most definitely a client.
“Yep, this is the place,” Mike replied cheerfully.
“Your name?” Logan stepped closer to her.
“Martha Walters, and this is my son, Ronald.”
“Stand here and spread your legs. I’ll do a quick search, then you’ll be allowed to see her.” Logan’s voice turned businesslike.
“Ohhh,” the old woman replied hesitantly. “All right.”
Her son didn’t say anything, but he appeared to be complying. I had a feeling Logan’s imposing build might have had something to do with that. My bodyguard resembled a Mack truck. Not really the kind of guy people would want to mess with.
“This way.” Logan’s deep voice carried in the wind. When he pushed the doors open, his gaze alighted on mine. With the sun on his back, his shoulders filled the doorway.
I swallowed the fluttery feeling that had nothing to do with performing.
“Right over here.” Cecile ushered Martha and Ronald to the chairs set up beside me. Logan watched everything from the side, his alert gaze missing nothing.
I sat up straighter and smiled, reminding myself that a girlfriend waited at home for Logan.
Ronald held his mother’s hand. From the thinning hair covering his head, I guessed him to be in his fifties. Glasses perched on his nose, and despite the warm weather, he wore a jacket.
Martha dropped onto the seat. “Oomph.” A flash of pain crossed her features.
She was in her eighties and looked every bit of it. Deep wrinkles covered her face, and thin lips pressed against her dentures.
“You’re in pain.” I leaned forward and readily took her hand. Healing sessions were the only time I willingly touched anybody. Paper-thin, cool, and dry skin stretched across the back of her hand as my light seeped out like a wispy fog from the storage chest I buried it in. “Tell me where.”
The old woman’s watery eyes met mine. “I’ve been waiting so long to see you.” She gripped me with surprising strength. “You’re my last hope!”
My gaze softened as any thoughts of Logan drifted to the back of my mind. It was time to work. “Show me where it hurts.”
The woman pressed her free hand to her abdomen. “The cancer started here. They said there’s nothing else they can do, but I have to live until next year. I just have to!”
“My daughter’s first child is due in February.” Ronald cleared his throat. “She and my mom are very close, and more than anything, they both want her to meet her first great-grandchild.”
I nodded as the energy began to swirl inside me. It built up, like a slowly growing fire starting from burning embers. I coaxed it to a flame. This was my purpose. Healing was what I was meant to do.
“Let me help you to the bed, and we’ll begin.”
I continued holding her hand despite the unrelenting jolts of energy that made my fingers tingle, and with Ronald’s help, I had Martha lie down on the portable bed.
Cecile approached and quietly told Ronald what I was going to do. She emphasized several times that it was imperative he didn’t intervene.
“Close your eyes, Martha,” I instructed. A breeze shifted through the barn, causing the candles to flicker. “You may feel a hot sensation, as if you’re being burned, but it won’t hurt you. It will heal you.”
Martha nodded tightly. Shallow breaths made her chest rise and fall.
I lifted my hands, but before I could begin, she grabbed ahold of me once more, her touch provoking my light. “I trust you. My mother told me about your kind. She said that your magical light is real and that your mother once healed her sister. I know you can help me.”
At the mention of my mother, a sharp longing filled my chest. I blinked rapidly to keep the traitorous tears from forming. “I’m happy to hear that.”
I squeezed her back before placing her hand at her side. “Now, close your eyes.”
Hovering my palms over her body, I focused on my healing light.
I flung the lid on my internal storage chest wide open, and my light completely poured out before it wound up my belly and into my arms. It warmed my skin, telling me everything that was happening inside my client.
Sick black energy rotted her insides. The disease swirled up into my palms, making itself known. The cancer is everywhere. She’s right.
I closed my eyes and moved my palms, shifting and swaying above her until my healing light told me exactly where every cancer cell hid.
“I’m going to start now. You may feel some discomfort.”
Ronald shuffled his feet behind me. Cecile stood at his side. She would stop him if he tried to interfere. I needed absolute concentration to rid someone of an illness. If my concentration broke during the process, it was possible my client would leave exactly as they’d come.
“Just take deep breaths, nice and slow,” I told her.
I called upon the firelight within me until it felt as though flames consumed my insides. Pain shot down my arms into my fingertips, but I ignored it. Pain came with the territory.
Sweat formed on my brow as I clamped my teeth tightly together. So much disease. So much illness.
Minutes passed. Time ticked slowly by. As the sickness extracted from Martha and flowed into me, my arms shook.
A growl sounded behind me. Logan.
A sharp “Shh!” came from Cecile.
Martha’s body grew healthier as I worked my light into her and scaled out the cancer. When I was certain that every tumorous cell was extracted from her body, I dropped my hands and panted quietly.
Next, came the hard part. The black illness that had been eating Martha from the inside out was inside me. I could feel it. Disease poured into my organs, my blood, and every fiber of my being.
I called up my light again, coaxing the fire and making it grow until it swallowed the shadowy disease relentlessly. A burst of light shot from my fingertips when it finished.
“What the hell!” Ronald’s yell sounded muffled in my eardrums.
Folding over, I placed my hands on the bed as shivers wracked my body. Martha still lay motionless, but her skin held a healthy glow, and a soft smile tugged at her lips.
“Daria’s hurting,” Logan said in a gruff voice. “Why isn’t anyone helping her?”
“No, Logan! You must never intervene!” Cecile’s voice rang with authority. “You could hurt Daria if you do.”
I gripped the bed’s edge tightly. Even though I had done healings hundreds, if not thousands, of times, it still left me feeling weak and nauseated each time.
One down. Twenty-one to go.
Chapter 5
Throughout the day, I felt Logan’s hovering presence even though I did my best to only focus on my clients. As each client came and went, he watched me perform. Though he stood in the corner, not saying a word, I still felt his tense energy.
After my fourteenth client, a seven-year-old sickened with neuroblastoma, fatigue rolled through me in steady waves. But watching that child walk out of the barn, after he’d needed to be carried in by his father, made my aching muscles and sweat-drenched face worth it.
“Thank you,” the mother said, grabbing my hand as the rest of her family retreated to their beat-up vehicle. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the sound of her son’s laughter filled the air outside the barn. She shoved a crumpled fifty-dollar bill into my hand. “I want to pay you more. I wish I could pay you the world, but the hospital bills were so much. We lost our house, and—”
“It’s all right,” I cut in, patting her hand before pulling away. Sharp sparks rolled up my arms from the contact we’d shared. “This is enough.” I held up the bill which Cecile quickly took and stashed with the rest of my payments. “And that,” I nodded to the sound of her now healthy child outside, “is more payment than anything in the bank.”
Fat tears fell from her eyes when she swallowed audibly. “God bless you,” she whispered before hu
rrying after her family.
When I turned to grab my water bottle, my gaze met Logan’s. He was watching me again, his expression unreadable. I took a swig of cool water and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the cloth Cecile held out to me.
“Who’s next?” I asked her.
∞ ∞ ∞
The sun continued to progress across the sky as my clients came and went. Evening had arrived when I finished with my eighteenth client, the sky a dusky purple. The candles, long burned down, left the scent of smoke amidst the lavender and moldy hay.
When the door closed behind my latest client, I collapsed onto one of the chairs, still panting from exertion. That case had been particularly brutal. Their genetic disease had been buried in every cell of their body, making extraction particularly hard.
Logan pushed away from the wall, advancing toward Cecile. “Shouldn’t she take another break?” he asked under his breath. “She’s so tired she can’t even stand.”
“I’m fine,” I said, even though my hand shook when I reached for my water.
“You don’t look fine.” Logan handed me my water before I could retrieve it.
Cecile patted my forehead with the towel. “Logan’s right. You do look tired, and you’re quite pale. We can cancel the rest if need be.”
Logan nodded, his watchful gaze assessing me again.
I took the towel from Cecile. “No. I’ll do it.”
Logan’s mouth opened, but he closed it. However, that worried look crossed his features again. “Are you really going to keep going?”
“Of course. I’m used to working long days. Besides, I have tomorrow off. I’ll sleep in.”
“Why not just reschedule the rest?”
I took another drink of water. “It’s not that easy. If I cancel, my remaining clients are out of luck since all of my days are fully booked. Any time I have to end a show early…” I paused, picturing the absolute despair that flashed through my clients’ eyes. Those forlorn and hopeless looks left an aching hole in my chest. “Well, let’s just say, I don’t like letting them down.”
“So you help them even though it hurts you.”
“It doesn’t hurt me for long. For the most part, it’s just … exhausting.”
Cecile rubbed my back. “Logan’s right. You should take a break.”
Her touch caused a shifting of energy beneath my skin, like water flowing under a bridge. She pulled away just before the sensation grew to something unbearable and checked her watch again. “We have a spare twenty minutes. How about you close your eyes for a bit?”
My next client had just called to say they had a flat tire and were running late. The anxiety in the woman’s tone had flowed through the call, like electricity shooting along a power line. Cecile had assured her we would still proceed, but she would have to wait until the end of the night.
“So if client nineteen is running late, who’s client twenty?” I forced myself to sit up straighter, more for Logan’s benefit than mine. A deep groove had settled between his eyes.
Cecile glanced at the schedule on her clipboard. “A forty-year-old female named Lucy Basig, recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Stage four. Her doctors have given her a few months to live.”
“So it won’t be an easy one.” Cancer that advanced always took extra effort.
Logan made a discontented sound as faint banging noises came from the bus.
“Sounds like Mike has woken up,” I said, trying to distract Logan.
He didn’t give the bus a glance.
I was about to lean back in the chair and close my eyes when the sound of a car driving up the gravel drive had me sitting up straighter. “Is Lucy already here?”
Cecile set her clipboard down. “She shouldn’t be. I gave them strict instructions to not arrive until her designated time and explained how we never like people waiting at the door.”
“I’ll check it out.” Logan strode out the barn door, a strong gust of wind following in his wake.
My long blond hair fluttered across my cheeks.
Cecile checked her watch again. “It’s only 8:10. That would make them twenty minutes early.”
Flashing red and blue lights penetrated the barn’s slats. Cecile’s frown grew. “That looks like a police car.”
“Police?” My insides chilled. The haunting words from my mother rose in my mind. “Always avoid the police. They like to trick us, make us think we can trust them, but we can’t. My grandmother made that mistake once. She was committed to a mental institution. For months, she never saw the light of day.”
The flashing lights swirled around, and the police cruiser rolled to a stop outside. Slamming car doors followed.
“What can we do for you?” Logan called as Cecile and I crept closer to the barn door to listen.
“We got a call. Said there’s been a lot of unusual traffic to the area, and folks are worried about disturbing the peace,” the officer replied. He sounded young and assertive.
I rolled my eyes. Great. Just what we need. Rookie officers were the worst, as if they were on a mission to prove themselves and show the world they were in charge.
But the next voice I heard set my teeth on edge. “I knew something wasn’t right when I stopped by earlier.” The young farmer, the one who’d so graciously offered to show me around his small town, had returned.
I gritted my teeth and slipped through the barn doors, Cecile hot on my heels.
The sun was setting. Hazy purple clouds filled the western sky, and a few stars appeared, but there was enough light from the glaring police cruiser headlights to see everyone’s faces clearly.
The young officer’s eyes narrowed when I approached.
“Officer, what can we do for you?” I asked sweetly, yet annoyance dripped in my tone. I glared at the farmer.
Logan stiffened and stepped closer to my side.
The officer nodded toward Logan. “As I was telling this man, we’ve had calls about disturbances in the area. A lot of traffic has been seen coming up and down this road today. That’s unusual for these parts.”
Cecile’s smile tightened. “We have all of the necessary papers for conducting business here. I can get them—”
“Business?” The farmer put his hands on his hips. “I thought you were having a family reunion? Why would you need business papers for that?”
Cecile cast me a pained look.
I mouthed that it was okay. Since our cover was blown, there was no point trying to hide anything anymore.
“I’m here seeing clients,” I replied to the officer, ignoring the farmer. “That’s why there has been so much traffic.”
“And as I was saying,” Cecile added, “I have the necessary documents for the business we’re conducting here.”
The officer cocked his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “Just what kind of business are you doing?”
A bang came from the bus door when Mike emerged, stuffing his shirt into his pants as he jogged our way. Wet, dark ringlets of hair fell on his shoulders, his bushy mustache smooth. From the looks of it, he’d just showered and dressed, once again ready to drive us through the night.
“I have the papers right here!” He waved them in the air.
Logan remained quiet, but his gaze continually swiveled around, and given the tense way he stood, he was ready to jump into action if needed.
The officer took the papers from Mike and snapped his flashlight on. Bright light flowed across the forms. The farmer stepped closer and peered over the officer’s shoulder.
A gust of wind shot across the fields, and I pushed my hair back. I bit my lip, eyeing the sky.
More stars were emerging. It was getting darker by the second, and who knew how much longer we had before my next client arrived. Once they did, I would need to get back to work.
“So what exactly do you do?” the officer asked as he scanned the papers.
“I’m a supernatural healer. I travel around the country and heal those who are seriously ill. I’
m here today seeing clients.”
Both the officer and farmer glanced up.
The officer’s eyebrows rose. “A supernatural … what?”
“A healer.” Cecile took the papers back. “Daria is a very sought-after healer by those who are gravely ill. She’s well renowned for what she does.”
“Is that right?” the officer replied skeptically and snapped his flashlight off.
I crossed my arms defensively. I knew what was coming.
“Are you doing witchcraft or something?” The farmer’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to me. “My granddad never approved any séances out here or said it was okay to be practicing any voodoo shit.”
Logan moved closer to me when I replied through gritted teeth, “It’s not séances, and it’s not voodoo.”
A car engine rumbled in the distance. In the twilight, a hazy cloud of gravel dust rose from the end of the drive like mist from a moor.
Logan’s attention shifted to the new vehicle. My next client had arrived.
“So?” the farmer demanded. “Is that what you’re doing out here?” He sidestepped Logan so he could see me better. The flirtatious, leering expression he’d worn earlier in the day had been replaced with one of revulsion and something darker.
Hate.
Logan tensed again, his attention waffling between the farmer and the new vehicle approaching, as if trying to deduce which posed the greater threat. After all, we thought the car arriving held my next client, but maybe it didn’t.
I jutted my chin up. “What I’m doing is healing people. You can call that whatever you like.”
The police officer sighed and holstered his flashlight. “Well, whatever she’s doing, the paperwork is legal. Not much I can do about that.” From his regretful tone, he also seemed to share the farmer’s revulsion.
“Well, there’s something I can do,” the farmer said. He stepped closer to me.
Logan immediately shielded my body with his and widened his stance, but it didn’t stop the farmer’s aggression.
“You get off our land!” the farmer yelled. Veins bulged in his neck as spittle flew from his mouth. “We don’t want your kind around here!”
Magic in Light Page 4