The Healer: First Touch (32 page)

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Authors: Amy Clapp

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: The Healer: First Touch
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"I love you, Jamie McMann. I love you for who you are and I love you for what you do for me.

Jamie blinked with the shock my words gave him. My sudden shift of feelings surely surprised him. But surprise transformed to pleasure as a grin spread across his face. His eyes softened as he stared at me.

"Really? You really love me?"

"Yes, I do. I love you." I held his face in mine still. "I don't want you to ever forget that. " My words came out a little harsher than I had intended, but Jamie didn't seem to mind. His smile broadened as he bent his head to kiss me again. As we separated, we both dropped our hands from each other's faces and grasped them together between us instead.

Jamie breathed deeply, his shoulders moving with the effort. He smiled at me. "Be safe in there. Come back to me with Oma. I love you, Jacey."

I cringed slightly at his words, knowing I wasn't coming back.

I reluctantly released his hands and stepped from the Jeep to face the warehouse where Oma and the Fury awaited me. I walked up the stone steps to the concrete landing and the heavy steel door that led inside. Before I entered, I looked back at Jamie sitting in the front seat. He smiled encouragingly at me, and I smiled weakly in return before turning back to the steel door of the warehouse.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled on the heavy door. It groaned as it opened. I closed my eyes and pictured Oma and Varick and even Jamie and Emma, the loved ones I was ultimately trying to protect. I opened my eyes and stepped into the dark warehouse, into the mouth of the beast, where Oma and my destiny awaited.

-Twenty-Six-

The warehouse was dark and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The natural light from the open door spilled in showing the dirt and debris scattered on the concrete floor. I walked carefully to avoid making noise. Dust particles floated around me, visible in the day light peeking through the boarded windows. A large rat scurried close to the wall and ducked into a crack where the wall and floor came together.

I shuddered thinking about Oma being here. My resolve to save her intensified as I thought of the unfairness of such a wonderful, caring woman being held in a place like this. But where could she be? The warehouse was three stories tall and an unknown tens of thousands square feet. I strained my ears in the deafening silence but all I heard was the scratching and scurrying of rodents in the walls around me.

I walked down a narrow hallway and checked the rooms that opened off it. I found nothing but discarded papers, dirt, cobwebs, and abandoned office furniture. I continued my search as quietly as I could, careful not to alert the evil no doubt waiting for me.

The deeper I traveled into the gloomy building, the darker and creepier it became. I came to a metal cabinet that had fallen across a doorway, blocking half of it. I made my way over it, and then I dusted the dirt from my hands onto my jeans while I glanced around. The doorway led into a large open area where the ceiling reached all the way to the roof of the third story. The light was better in here. There were more windows and most of those had been broken out. Paper and cardboard boxes littered the cement floor. At the far end of the room still stood two long conveyor belts, the rubber of the belts themselves long since rotted away leaving just the metal tracks on the long steel conveyors. A few metal stools were strewn around the conveyor tables, discarded along with the rest of the building.

A loud noise behind me startled me, and my senses heightened as my heart quickly pumped adrenaline into my bloodstream. I whirled around, half expecting the Fury in one of its many forms to be approaching. But I didn't see anything. Only more floating dust and dirt from whatever had fallen on the other side of the half-blocked doorway. I turned back to the open room I was standing in, my eyes darting everywhere, trying to see everything, but really not seeing anything.

My heart still throbbed painfully fast in my chest. I had to find Oma quickly before Varick sensed my fear and came to find and protect me.

"Oma?" I called out quietly. I stood absolutely still, looking around me for any sign of the Fury. I listened for Oma, but all I heard was the beating of my own heart, loud and fast. I walked into the middle of the large room, turning in circles so I could see all around me.

"Oma," I called, loud enough for the name to reverberate off the cement walls. I waited again. Still nothing.

Where was Oma? Could this have been an elaborate trick by the Fury to get me here? I was beginning to get a little irritated...and very brave.

"Where is she?" I yelled into the air. "I'm here. Alone. No Protectors. Where is my grandmother?"

"Oma?" I shouted again. And then a very quiet scratching noise came from somewhere at the far end of the room. I walked to where the sound seemed to be coming from, nervously looking around as I went, searching for any movement or glowing yellow eyes.

I neared the far end of the room and noticed three doors, all shut. "Oma?" I yelled again. "Are you in there?" I heard more scratching, even more urgent sounding. "Oma! Are you there?" I ran to the first door and tried to yank it open. But the door wouldn't budge.

"Oma? Are you in there?" I knocked frantically at the door, silently hoping she wasn't behind this locked door. I heard more scratching and even what sounded like muffled groaning. But it wasn't coming from behind the locked door.

I quickly went to the middle door, still glancing around me at the wide open warehouse. "Oma?" I yelled, knocking on the second door. The loud banging echoed through the cavernous structure. I heard more scratching and more groans, even louder than before. She was behind this door. I knew it.

"Oma. I'm here." I yanked on the heavy door. It moved a little so at least I knew it wasn't locked. "Hang on Oma!" I pulled on the door again. The muffled noises coming from behind the door increased. "Come on!" I yelled as I pulled. "Open!" Sweat began to bead up on my upper lip and across my forehead. My hands ached from gripping the metal doorknob. But the door barely moved.

My body heaved up and down with each breath. I rubbed my hands together to dry the sweat and relieve some of the aching. I heard more groaning and scratching from behind the closed door.

"Oma!" I yelled. I grabbed the door again with renewed determination and threw my body back to move the door. The door squeaked in protest, but it was moving. With a final groan, I used my last bit of strength to yank on the door. There was a deafening crack and the door opened, dust billowing around me as it did. I coughed and waved the dust out of my face so I could see into the room.

The room was small and square. There were no windows, just another door on the opposite wall. A single light bulb hung on the low ceiling in the middle of the room. There was only one thing in the room. A metal chair lay on its side on the cracked tile floor. But tied to the overturned chair was Oma.

"Oma!" I ran to kneel beside her.

"Oh god, Oma. What has it done to you?" I felt tears of frustration and anger dampen my eyes. Oma's arms were tied tightly to the chair and her feet were tied together with heavy rope. "I've got get you out of here." I pulled at the rope binding her arms to the metal chair.

Oma moaned again. I looked at her face and saw a dirty rag stuffed in her mouth. "Let me get this off you first," I said, gently turning Oma's head to the side so I could see where the rag was tied behind her. It was tied in a tight knot at the back of her head.

Grimacing, I said, "I'm sorry Oma. This might hurt a little. The rag is knotted so tightly." I yanked on the knot, attempting to wedge my fingers inside it to pull it apart. It didn't work. I decided to pull the rag over Oma's head instead of wasting time fighting with the tight knot. I yanked on the rag, pulling it up and over her head. Oma groaned again when some of her hair pulled with the rag.

"Sorry, Oma," I winced, pulling harder. The rag finally slid off Oma's head with a final rough pull. I started to lift the chair to an upright position with Oma still tied to it.

She gasped heavily, taking in as much oxygen as she could. "Jacey! Get out of here! Now!"

"I'm getting you out of here first."

"No. Go now. It is here. The Fury. You need to leave now!" Her eyes were wide and frantic, mimicking the frantic sound of her voice.

"Not without you Oma," I said as I tried to untie the knot binding her arms to the chair. The rope was so tight it was cutting into the thin skin on her wrist and forearm.

"Where's Varick?" Oma practically screamed, her eyes anxiously searching around us.

"He's not here. I'm alone." The rope tore at my fingers as I tried to untie the knot.

"No, no, no, no," Oma moaned, shaking her head violently. "No, Jacey. You need to run. You're going to be killed. Where is Varick?"

My fingers burned from the rope as I fought with the knot.
I wish I would have thought to bring a knife.
"He's not here. I'm getting you out of here." My voice was level, but hard with determination.

"Honey, look at me. Now." Oma's voice was calm but demanding, the frantic sound gone. "Please. You need to save yourself. They are using me to get to you. Please, Jacey. Just go."

I stared at Oma, my eyes blurring with tears. I was completely amazed that this woman could be so brave and so level headed in such peril. My heart was pounding crazily in my chest.

"No," I answered obstinately. "I won't leave you. I would rather die than leave you." My voice broke with my last sentence. The left side of Oma's face was showing the beginning signs of bruising, likely from when her chair tipped over and her face hit the tile floor. On either side of her mouth, raw sores showed where the rag had dug into her skin. I could see where the rope had cut into the skin of her wrists. The sight of Oma's injuries threw me into a rage.

"No!" I yelled. "You are leaving with me! Now!" I stood up grabbing hold of the rope binding one of Oma's arms.

Howling loudly, I tore at the rope. The muscles in my arms strained as I tried to break through the strong cords. And then with a couple of snaps, the rope broke at the knot. Without stopping, I pulled on the other rope that held her other hand.

"Hurry, Jacey. Oh, please hurry, then." Although Oma's voice was still soft, the frantic anxiety was back. I worked on the other knot, until it too snapped and broke at the knot. Oma rubbed her sore wrists as I worked on the binding at her ankles. My fingers burned from the heavy rope tearing at my skin, but it too finally snapped.

"Can you stand?" I asked urgently.

"I think so, but I may need your help."

I helped her up. She swayed slightly and I wrapped my arm around her thin waist, lifting her slightly to support her.

"Oh, Jacey. I'm dizzy. I guess I didn't realize how weak I'd be." Oma's voice wavered with her frailty. She grabbed my other hand for more support as we walked. Her hand was freezing cold, and I was sure the rest of her body was too.

"Come on, Oma. I'm taking you home. Jamie is waiting outside with his Jeep."

"Jamie? Why is Jamie here and not Varick? Did something happen?"

"No. Varick is fine. The note threatened that if I brought a Protector, you would be harmed. So, I came inside alone." Oma slipped and I tightened my grip around her waist. "I got you."

"Honey, you shouldn't have come. You are more important than this. You're giving the Fury exactly what they want."

That's the idea.
"Hurry Oma." Is all I said aloud.

We stumbled through the big room, across the papers and dirt littering the cement floor. As we got came closer to the door that was partially blocked by the metal cabinet, I thought for the first time that we could both get out of this ordeal alive.

My hope was premature. As we neared the door leading to freedom, a sinister chuckling started behind us. It began low and slow and built to howls of maniacal laughter. My blood ran icy cold as the evil laughter echoed in my ears. I froze.

"Oh no," Oma whispered.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up sharply, my natural defenses prickling to alertness. But my heart dropped into my stomach as the grim reality of the Fury presented itself.

We turned to face the creature behind us. My eyes widened as the evil being took shape. I felt Oma shaking, my arm still wrapped tightly around her waist.

At first the Fury emerged as a smoky mist, descending from the high rafters of the warehouse. Only the small glowing orbs in the middle of the mist gave an indication that the mist was something more. As the Fury shifted its shape, morphing from the dark mist into something else, Oma buckled at the knees before I caught her.

"Easy, Oma. It's alright." I was surprised at the calm of my own voice. My heart raced from the fear I actually felt. I

The ominous mist settled close to the cement floor a few feet from us. Then it transformed into legs, torso, arms, and a head becoming an unnatural looking man. The creature's skin was a waxy white color, and its short white hair was perfectly plastered into place. It wore a black suit with a black dress shirt underneath and a black ascot at its neck. It smiled at me, its white lips curling over yellowed teeth. Its yellow eyes glowed with desire for my powers and my life.

"Well, here you are," the Fury snarled through its yellow teeth. "I see you have found your caretaker. I knew you would come for her. Healers are so predictable." The Fury's arrogance made me brave.

I took a couple steps backward to put some space between the Fury and us, but also to get Oma closer to the door, closer to safety.

"Yes, I did. And I came alone, just as you commanded." I lifted my chin in defiance. I ever so slightly edged Oma behind me, my arm staying around her.

The Fury closed its yellow eyes, its chest seeming to expand as it appeared to take a deep breath. The Fury hissed, opening its yellow eyes and grinning. The eyes were brighter, more yellow than before. "Your powers are so strong, young one. Stronger than I have felt in a long time." I shuddered as I saw saliva drip from the Fury's open mouth onto its waxy chin.

It was time for my plan to take shape.

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