CarnalHealing (8 page)

“So go,” replied Leonore. Letisha didn’t move, just arched one
eyebrow in a significant expression. Neither Lupita nor Ludmilla showed any
sign of rushing out either, and Leonore sighed and got to her feet. “Okay,
fine. I know you think I won’t go over there, but it’s really not necessary for
you to watch me until I leave.”

“Of course not,” said Letisha. She crossed her arms and
still didn’t move. With what she hoped was a world-class eye roll, Leonore
crossed the room and picked up her car keys and purse. “Fine. Just lock the
door behind you when you leave.” She didn’t quite slam the door behind her.

“It’s like having six nannies,” she muttered to herself as
she unlocked her car. But as she slid into the front seat and started the car,
Leonore realized she wasn’t really annoyed. She even grinned a little,
remembering the stubborn expressions on her three closest friends’ faces. She
would have agreed to go to the hospital in any case, because she probably
wouldn’t be able to sleep without checking up on Lucy. And she had a sudden
certainty that the girls were absolutely right about Jeff being happy to see
her. Heat rose to her own cheeks and a tingle of anticipation spread from her
belly to her inner thighs, as both her body and her magic responded to the idea
that she’d be seeing him again in a few minutes.

“No, Dr. Carson hasn’t signed out. But that doesn’t mean he
hasn’t gone home—they leave without signing out all the time.” The nurse’s tone
made it clear she considered this disregard of the rules to be a personal
affront. A light on the console next to her started to flash, and she turned
toward it and punched a button, changing it to a steady glow. “Excuse me, I
just need to check on a patient.”

Leonore watched her step from behind the desk and head
toward one of the corridors. It wasn’t the one that led to Lucy’s room. She
eyed the other nurse. He was deep in a telephone conversation, holding the
phone with his chin while reading information from a file, and didn’t seem to
be paying any attention to her. Leonore didn’t have her fake lab coat or
identification badge with her—she had not wanted to have to explain them to
Jeff—but she didn’t think anyone would stop her once she had gotten past the
desk. Her real purpose for being here was to make sure Lucy was okay, not to
see Jeff. Nevertheless, as she walked quietly down the hall in the direction of
the child’s room, she found it hard to ignore the sour taste of disappointment.

The door was open, and Leonore walked past it, glancing in.
Both parents were in the room, seated on either side of the bed. Father and
daughter were absorbed in a book, with the mother apparently listening in. No
one glanced up.

Damn.
Leonore’s first reaction was irritation, but
she quickly reassessed the situation. The stranger was unlikely to return as
long as Lucy was not alone. Though she had only gotten a quick glimpse, Lucy
had been sitting up and appeared to be quite animated, which meant she was
probably feeling well.

Leonore stepped into the visitors lounge, unsure of what to
do next. With Jeff missing in action, she didn’t have any excuse to hang
around. The visitors lounge was empty at the moment, but unlikely to stay that
way for long. If she went home, she’d just spend the evening worried that the
stranger would come back.

She looked around. Like the last time she was in this room, a
partially completed jigsaw puzzle was on a low table. She decided to wait just
a little while. Jeff might return to his office, and Lucy’s parents would have
to leave eventually. She tried one of the comfortable chairs, but felt too
restless and soon stood back up. She perched on the arm of the sofa and tried
to focus on the puzzle, but it was no use. She got up and went back to the door
and peeked out.

Looking down the corridor, Leonore felt even more edgy. She
couldn’t see inside the room from this vantage point and, if she kept walking
up and down the hall in order to look inside, someone was going to notice her.
Why hadn’t she gotten Jeff’s cell phone number? She pulled her head back into
the room, returned to the arm chair, and sat down.

Relax
, she told herself, taking a deep breath.
Patience had never been her strong suit, but it was a trait often required in
the rituals she had learned to help channel her magic and her connection with
other Leonoreans. Closing her eyes to the still-empty room, she called to mind
the words of a chant she sometimes used when she needed to settle her mind in
preparation for a ritual, or to calm herself afterward.

Animus alcedonia, sententia quietis. Animus alcedonia,
sententia quietis.
Tranquil soul, peaceful thought. The familiar, rhythmic
words of the inwardly spoken chant soothed her disquiet. She felt her magic
coil around and settle itself like a cat curling up for a nap.

Animus alcedonia, sententia quietis.
She wondered
vaguely why her power had been vigilant in the first place. Maybe it was
because she had anticipated using it to make sure Lucy was still cancer free.
Animus
alcedonia, sententia quietis.

Too bad Jeff hadn’t been in his office. She could be in his
arms right now. In reaction to the thought, her power lifted its head but,
soothed by the chant, returned to rest.
Animus alcedonia, sententia quietis.

Although her eyes were still closed, Leonore knew she would
be instantly aware if someone else came into the quiet room. She let the
tension lift from the muscles in her neck and ease from her arms and legs. The
chair really was quite comfortable.
Animus alcedonia, sententia quietis.

She woke with a start, momentarily disoriented. Had she
fallen asleep? The room didn’t seem to look exactly as it had when she had
closed her eyes only moments before. Leonore’s gaze fell on the jigsaw puzzle.
Was it her imagination, or were more pieces in place than she remembered?

The light filtering through the Venetian blinds seemed
different as well. She looked blearily at her watch. What she saw brought her
out of the chair and to her feet in a single motion—it was a few minutes after
ten o’clock. She had not only fallen asleep, she had slept for over three
hours. The light coming through the blinds was the ambient light of the city at
night, not the last rays of the evening sun. The room was empty, but it gave
Leonore a shiver of apprehension to think that people had been in and out while
she slept.

The hall was quiet now and no light shone from Lucy’s door
as Lenore approached. It was possible that one of the parents was spending the
night in the room on a cot, so she looked into the doorway with caution, but
saw only the sleeping child. Pleased that her shoes didn’t make any noise, she
moved to the side of the bed and, very carefully so as not to awaken her,
placed a hand on Lucy’s chest.

Calling her magic, she scanned the tiny body for signs that
the cancer had returned, and was immediately reassured. There was no sign of
the malignant cells and the girl’s own defenses felt stronger. The “soldiers”,
which Leonore now assumed to be the medicines Jeff had administered, were in
place, vigilant but not currently engaged in fighting disease. She withdrew her
hand, relieved.

She was still torn about whether it was safe for her to leave.
Surely the stranger would be noticed entering the hospital. And it seemed
unlikely that he was already here, waiting for his chance to be alone with
Lucy.

But isn’t that exactly what I just did?

Leonore wished she could make a quick patrol of the ward,
but she was far too conspicuous at this time of night. If she simply walked to
the elevator and exited, it would probably be assumed she was a parent, who had
probably stayed until her child was asleep. But if she started wandering the
halls, someone would question her.

She decided to go home. She could always stop by again in
the morning.

She’d had a difficult time finding a parking space when
she’d arrived, having to settle for the far corner of the roof. Now her car sat
alone, the other visitors all having left hours before. The breeze was pleasant
as she exited the elevator—September could be stifling in Boston, but it could
also be beautiful.

As she crossed the garage, an especially strong gust of wind
blew her hair into her face, and seemed cooler than it had a moment before.
Leonore, fumbling in her purse for her keys, felt a sudden chill, but before
she could shiver, knew it wasn’t the wind that was making her cold.

A figure stood in the shadows near her car, and she knew
with complete certainty that the coldness emanated from him. She stopped
abruptly, her keys not yet in her hand. She considered turning and running back
toward the elevators, but she’d heard the car she’d departed rumble down and
out of her reach the moment she’d exited.

“Hello, witch.” The man’s voice carried easily over the
sounds of the city, although he spoke softly. He pronounced the last word as if
it was a curse.

“What do you want?” Leonore was pleased to hear the
steadiness of her own voice. Her power thrummed in her ears, on high alert.

“Have you no idea?”

The man seemed to glide a few steps closer to her, and
Leonore involuntarily backed up a step. She tried to glance around. The
stairwell was at the opposite corner, with the stranger between her and its
glowing red exit sign. His movement had not quite brought his face into the
light, be she felt she could sense his eyes, glowing in the darkness like a
wolf’s.

“You made Lucy sick,” she said, mostly to gain time. “Why
did you do that?”

His laugh was like music, dark and seductive. “Kittens grow
up to be cats. Best to drown them before they get old enough to scratch.”

What is he talking about?
Leonore’s confusion must
have showed on her face, which she now realized was fully illuminated by same
light that the man seemed to be avoiding, because he answered the unasked
question.

“Don’t pretend not to understand, witch. The child is one of
you. Or, she will be when she grows up.”

“How can you know that?” Leonore burst out without thinking.
Leonoreans don’t begin to manifest their powers until puberty.

“Did you think to keep it a secret? Although,” the purring
voice went on, “I was surprised to see you here. Our genealogists find no close
connection between the girl and your branch of the witch’s bloodline.”

Ice tentacles curled around Leonore’s stomach. What did this
man know of the Leonorean bloodline?
She
had been unable to trace her
own ancestry with complete surety, and some of the circle members were only
recognizable by the feel of their power. And this stranger not only knew of
Leonore’s lineage, but had somehow traced Lucy’s as well.

Kittens grow up to be cats.

“You stay away from her,” she said, suddenly incensed at the
thought of anyone harming the still-fragile child who slept so nearby.

“Or you’ll what? Cast a glamour to frighten me?
Heal
me to death?” The lyrical laugh pealed again. “You have no powers dangerous to
me, witch. While I, on the other hand—” Another smooth movement finally brought
his face into the light. “Have any number of unpleasant ways to hurt you.
Unpleasant for you, that is.”

Leonore felt as if she had been mesmerized. He was the most
breathtakingly beautiful man she had ever seen. She’d glimpsed him once before,
of course, but had not noticed the perfect arch of his brow, or the sculpted
perfection of his lips. And his eyes…

With an effort, she shook herself free of the spell. The
man’s grin widened and one brow slowly lifted. He was just a man—a handsome
one, but not astonishingly so. Leonore found her voice.

“If you’re so scornful of glamours, why do you bother to
cast one?

He shrugged. “Vain of me, I suppose. I just wanted to show
you how minor a talent it is, and how easily performed. Even on someone who
thinks she is powerful.” He had come even closer, and Leonore tried to think
through the beginnings of panic.
What is he going to do to me?

“You’re
Draíodóir
,” she blurted.

“Of course I am,” he replied. “And you—” For the first time
his voice lost some of its smoothness. “Are a Leonorean witch. Although you
obviously have little in common with the woman whose name you have the
arrogance to take.”

Leonore, who had been about to protest that the name was on
her birth certificate, held her tongue. Again, she gauged the distance to the
exit sign.

The man must have seen the direction of her furtive glance,
because he said, “Go ahead. You might make it. I’m really not much of a
runner.”

Well, I am.
With a sudden burst of effort, Leonore
bolted in the direction of the stairwell, running past the man’s right. He
turned, but made no move to follow her from what she could tell, although she
didn’t dare to slow down enough even to look over her shoulder.

I’m going to make it. I’m going to—

Leonore was just reaching for the door handle when she was
seized with the sensation of her chest being wrapped in iron band. Her last
panting breath was forced from her lungs and she looked down as, impossibly,
she was lifted from her feet and pulled backward through the air as if lifted
by a giant hand. She struggled to speak but could not draw in air.

Her toes dragged the ground, but not enough to get a
purchase on the rough concrete. It seemed her lungs would burst, and dark
spots, ringed with fire, invaded her vision. Then the invisible hand seemed to
release her and she felt herself falling toward the pavement. She thrust her elbows
back, and they slammed against the concrete but not fast enough to prevent the
back of her head from smacking the floor with a jarring impact.

The pressure on Leonore’s chest was abruptly released and
she gasped. Her vision cleared and the face above her swam into focus. The
stranger, smiling. Leonore wanted to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go.