Healer's Magic

by Teagan Kearney

  "Okay, you got your orders. Get better soon." He bent and gave her a peck on the forehead.

  The door swished, and he and Bellamy left. She raised a hand, touching the spot where he'd kissed her. Between them, Changing Sky and Corwin had become the father she'd lost. She sniffed, wiping away a tear. At least her arms weren't broken.

  She drifted in and out of consciousness for a while until Vanse came and stood at the foot of her bed, fixing her with his sorrowful gaze. What was with that look? Yes, her parents' death had been a tragedy, but he hadn't killed them. Was he one of those people, oops Freudian slip there, vamps who took on the sorrows of the world? It didn't fit with how she saw the position of vampires in relation to human society.

  As far as she was concerned, vampires were an alien species, predators—and humans were their natural prey. In spite of this, their prey had a vast superiority of numbers on their side, and unlike vampires, the human species had and continued to eliminate other species. Predators they might be, but they had to live in the places mankind did not.

  However, this one appeared to have a conscience, and she owed him her life. Was it twice now?

  "Thank you."

  He nodded. The link strummed with power. "Each time the link opens, it strengthens our bond."

  "Yeah, good to know."

  "I am sorry. I am aware you don't want this. But..."

  Tatya's hand came up, seeking reassurance from her protective amulet, but it wasn't there.

  "It's in the cupboard by your bed."

  She wanted to ask him to put it in her hand but the drug induced lethargy made everything too much effort.

  "It's okay," she mumbled as her eyelids closed of their own volition.

  "Tatya!"

  But Tatya had fallen asleep.

  She floated in and out of dreams: a wide sandy bay, round boats bobbing in the distance, the sun shining on waves; fast flowing water that turned blood-red as she watched. Voices spoke to her, though their words remained beyond hearing, no matter how hard she listened. Whoever they were, they stayed out of sight, hidden, observing her, and despite every effort, she never caught a glimpse.

  When Tatya woke again, she was much more alert, cheering up as a nurse pushed Aunt Lil into the room and parked her wheelchair beside the bed. Tatya twisted her head to face her aunt, and razor-sharp agony shot through her body. Even the places not broken hurt.

  "Oh dear!" Her aunt tried and failed, to hide her distress at Tatya's condition.

  "I'm fine. This looks serious, but I am quite comfortable."

  Aunt Lil smiled. "A real trooper, that's what you are."

  "But how are you? Has Dr. Mellior said when you'll be able to come home? Who else will look after me?"

  "The doctors say I'm getting stronger, but..." she paused, "I'll let Vanse speak to you first."

  "Aunt Lil!" Tatya tried to protest, but she didn't have the strength. Okay, he was proving useful, but making a decision about their lives? No way.

  "He'll tell you himself. I'm an old woman, Tatya, and I understand he's," she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "one of them. But I trust him and I think you should too."

  A machine beeped, and a nurse rushed in to check Tatya's pulse and temperature, adjusting the medication dosage.

  "It's best if you stay calm, Ms. Rourke," she included both patients in her rebuke. "It's probably a good idea if we let the patient rest now, don't you think?"

  Tatya gritted her teeth at the woman's patronizing tone.

  "Your aunt can visit you later." The nurse readied the wheelchair.

  As the drugs took effect, Tatya accepted that perhaps this one time, the nurse was right.

  "I'll see you later, Tatya." Her aunt blew her a kiss.

  Tatya smiled. "I love you, Aunt Lil."

  "I love you too. Now you sleep and heal."

  For the rest of the day, Tatya drifted in and out of a drugged stupor that dulled her suffering to a tolerable level. The sun had set when she awoke to find Vanse once more in her room.

  "Aunt Lil says you have something to say. Spit it out." She might be drugged, but she hadn't lost her mind.

  He approached the bed, pulling up the visitor's chair. He placed his fingers on her wrist, and she shuddered, as a trickle of power seeped in, easing her injuries. She resented his help and attempted to move her arm away, but he pressed harder and she surrendered. Did he enjoy the beat of her pulse, the blood moving through her body?

  "You know me better than that by now."

  Did he sound offended? Boy, not only did this vamp have feelings, but he was hypersensitive as well.

  Vanse chuckled. Tatya looked at him. His smile was infectious. This is how he must have looked when he'd been human, she thought, softening toward him.

  "How long have you been a vampire?" Oops. The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She'd heard somewhere that among vampires such questions were considered bad etiquette.

  "A long, long time." The laughter faded.

  The power seeping down the link made her feel almost normal.

  "You are aware aren't you, that with our link, I can heal these injuries," he gestured at her cast enclosed legs, "quickly."

  No, she hadn't realized. Now he had her interest. "How quickly?"

  "Do you want to walk out of here tomorrow morning?" His voice gave nothing away.

  "What's the catch?"

  "Are you always so suspicious, Tatya?" His sad smile returned.

  "Okay, tell me there's no price involved."

  "You've already paid."

  Tatya understood he meant the link. Would he activate his dominance? She didn't remember every detail of what happened when they were linked, but it always left a residue of emotion. A tantalizing, hypnotically magnetic emotion. But she hated the dependent position she had no choice but to adopt when he activated the bond.

  "Is that so terrible?"

  She glared at him. Telling him to stay out of her head when they were linked was impossible, but she didn't have to accept it without protest. If he was in her head, he should appreciate how much she prized her independence.

  He withdrew his hand, breaking the connection, leaving her cold and alone. Even without asserting his authority, the link brought her alive in a way she didn't normally experience. Even during sex with the few partners she'd had.

  "That can be remedied any time you want." He twinkled at her again.

  "Mmm, let me see. Dependence on a vampire master and great sex, or free will and the chance of a proper relationship with another human being?" She realized she was close to crossing a line with him. But she would never give up her freedom.

  "You don't have to give up anything. But that's another conversation. I'll be back later and you can tell me if you've suffered enough." He stood, his glance traveling down to her legs.

  The level of pain had increased since he'd withdrawn from her.

  "Oh, I've made my decision."

  They both knew what it was, but he waited.

  "Oh, not interested in reading my mind anymore?" Was he really playing this one-upmanship game? Was he going to make her say it?

  Vanse watched her, a small, lazy smile on his face.

  "Okay, okay! Do it! Do whatever you have to do so I can heal."

  "Good girl."

  She bit back her response.

  "Trust me," he said. "You must learn to trust me."

  He did not just give me the 'trust me' line. What does he think this is? A movie? Oh, I get it. He wants me to agree.

  "Yes, Tatya, that's right. I don't need it but I want it."

  Vanse sat down and picked up her hand. This time, despite the urge to slap it away, she allowed him to touch her without resistance. She realized touch wasn't necessary to activate either the link or dominion, but if she had to play sweethearts to get the healing done, so be it.

  Tatya went rigid, her back arching in pain as a thousand ants sank razor-sharp teeth into her injuries, knitting broken bone
s and healing damaged muscles. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. Then it was over.

  And she loved him. She experienced it in every cell of her body, and he reciprocated. He loved her above all others. He'd only ever loved her. Why hadn't she known this? How could she ever conceive of being separate from him? They were two distinct beings, yet they were simultaneously one.

  He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

  How warm his lips were. How did someone without a heartbeat feel so warm? A memory floated out of reach, tugging at her; he reminded her of someone. He closed her eyelids, and she slept.

  Chapter Thirteen: Mathura, Uttar Pradesh, 1145 AD

  "Om namo Bhagavate Narasimhaya."

  The priest led the prayer, and the congregation responded. She stood on the women's side of the temple room, swaying in time to the repetitive chant. She'd chosen to stand at the back so she could glance over to where Vanse stood with the men without arousing suspicion. Hopefully, they would meet later.

  The priest intoned the final words, and everyone paid their obeisance to the Deity on the altar. The half-lion, half-man incarnation of the Supreme Lord known as Narasimhadeva smiled down on them, full of benign promise. She touched the image of the Deity hanging at her throat. He was the form of the Lord who came in times of need to protect his devotees.

  Mirabai, one of the house servants, tugged at her sari and beckoned her to follow.

  She looked over at Vanse again and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. The two women slipped out as the assembly shuffled and settled in preparation for the priest's daily reading from the Holy Book.

  They hurried down the steps and passed the flower sellers with their baskets of fragrant marigold and jasmine garlands. When they were out of sight of the temple, Mirabai pulled her into an alley and pressed a message into her eager hand.

  "I can't do this anymore," the girl glanced up and down the alley, her voice anxious. "Your father nearly caught Vanse hanging around the house to give that to me. It will bring disgrace on my whole family if your father finds out."

  Her father, Brhaspati, was the head of the town's most important merchant family and possessed a great deal of influence. He had the power to make Mirabai, and every member of her family, suffer—and he had a violent temper. Yesterday evening, he'd insisted everyone in the household, family and servants, line up in the courtyard. He'd then paraded back and forth, haranguing them about a paltry amount of missing rice. After he'd finished, he left them standing there till night fell before he dismissed them.

  Mirabai was right. Seeing Vanse in secret was risky. If her father discovered what she was doing, he'd beat her, and marry her off to the first candidate from the proper caste that offered him the most benefit and connections. Her fifteenth year began on the next full moon, making her of marriageable age, and she didn't doubt her father had several candidates in mind already. After marriage, with a suitable dowry, she'd become her husband's property to do with as he wished. That she was his only daughter among five sons brought her no preferential treatment. She had no special place in his heart.

  "Thank you, Mirabai. I'll always be grateful to you for helping us. Go now, before anyone sees."

  After Mirabai scurried away, she thrust the tiny note inside her blouse and hurried back to the temple, praying neither her father nor her brothers, had noticed her absence. Later, in the privacy of her room she pored over Vanse's words.

  "My beloved, meet me by the river. Usual time. V."

  Her heart beat faster, and her green eyes lit up at the thought of him. The expression in his brown eyes when he looked at her and the smoothness of his golden skin under her touch delighted her. Their love was dangerous, forbidden, but he was her other half, her soulmate, and she was convinced this wasn't the first life they'd been together. Vanse's father would be as outraged as hers. An inter-caste marriage would bring shame and dishonor on both families.

  After serving her father and brothers lunch, she told her mother she would fetch water for the next offering to the house Deity. No one could object if she was performing her regular duties.

  The sacred river, Jamuna, ran low at this time of year, and she smiled at the soft rippling sound of the water, imagining it sang to her as she walked along the path, listening to the birds and enjoying the cooling shade of the trees. She and Vanse planned to leave in two days, travel far away and make a life together. First, they'd find a priest to marry them and settle in a small town. Neither of them worried if they had little money. Vanse would provide for them as he was a skilled weaver. They would have children, lots of children, and they would live a happy life.

  She didn't want her life to be like her mother’s—tiptoeing around, always fearful of the beatings when her father was out of sorts. No, that life wasn't for her, and each night before sleeping, she thought of her future with her love.

  Their secret meeting place was a grove set back from the Jamuna where they hid from prying eyes. Her heart beat faster as she saw Vanse waiting, his white cotton shawl covering his bowed head, his back toward her. He didn't turn as she approached.

  "Vanse?"

  The figure flung aside his head covering, and leaped up, grabbing her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  "Manu?" Her brother's refusal to answer or even look at her fueled her fears. "Manu, please let me go. I've done nothing wrong. Please." She tried to break his grip, pry his fingers off her arm, but his hold was too tight and she didn't possess enough strength. Why was he doing this to her?

  Manu hauled his sister back along the river path while she pleaded and begged him to release her. He dragged her into their courtyard and forced her to her knees in front of their father, who fumed, his chest heaving, and his eyes bloodshot with rage.

  Her heart thundered in her ears, and she shook in fear as her father approached. He had never hit her. He'd never needed to, because her mother had trained her well, and she'd always been the perfect, subservient daughter.

  "Who is this V?"

  The notes Vanse had sent fluttered to the ground. He'd stressed how important it was to destroy them, but she had kept them because they were too precious. Had Mirabai betrayed her?

  She stared up at her father, tearful, pleading. "He's a friend. I promise you on my life, he's only a friend." She listened to her father's breath, the rapid in and out of his increasing rage: she crawled closer to his feet. "Father, forgive me."

  He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her head back.

  "Prostitute! Slut!"

  The first stinging slaps were open-handed, but her flimsy attempts to shield herself inflamed him more. She had seen him punch her mother with his fists in the softer parts as broken bones meant she'd be unable to work, but he had no intention of offering her any such discrimination. Each punch and kick sent excruciating pain through her body. As she passed out, she wondered if her father would stop before he killed her; and the last sounds she heard before losing consciousness were her mother's screams as she and Manu hauled her father off her.

  She woke in an empty storeroom in the basement of the house, on a blanket on the floor, with bare walls, a thick wooden door, and one tiny window too high for her to reach. Attempting to sit up, she found the slightest movement caused agonizing misery. She could only open one eye, and her left cheek felt the size of a melon. Mercifully, she floated in and out of consciousness until at last, a key turned and the door opened.

  Her mother crept in, knelt by her side, and smoothed the curls off her face.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She wept in her mother's arms. "Please tell father, I won't do it again."

  "Shh. There, there." Her mother pressed her arms, body, and legs. "He has beaten you, but nothing is broken. Here, take this, it will help." Her mother shook the powdery contents of a glass vial into her mouth, but even swallowing hurt. As her mother stroked her forehead, murmuring words of comfort, she slid into a dreamless sleep.

  The following evening, her father came. She shrank
back against the wall, flinching with each step he took toward her.

  "See, my child, what you have brought on yourself." His anger had cooled and his voice was full of regret. She fell at his feet, ignoring the pain of her injuries, and clutched his ankles. "Father, please, I beg you to forgive me."

  "My child." He stroked her bowed head. "I have been too lax with you, given you too much freedom. You will stay here until further notice."

  She bowed her head in submission.

  Her father carried out his threat and hired a muscled sudra woman to guard the storeroom during the day and sleep on the floor outside the door at night. The woman escorted her to the bathroom, one hard hand on her arm, and stood watching while she did her business. No one, not even her mother, dared to visit. She was a prisoner, isolated in her own home.

  Days turned into weeks, and the external signs of her beating faded. Yet she remained incarcerated. Time stretched and became one long day. Her life before dwindled to a dream. She prayed for hours, beseeching Lord Narasimha to allow Vanse to escape the thugs her father surely had hired to kill him. Brhaspati would destroy anyone and anything that might sully her reputation.

  One evening, her father visited with a village woman she knew to be a midwife. Her father waited outside, vowing he'd kill her with his own hands if she wasn't pure. She had no choice but to undergo the humiliating examination.

  "Good," her father muttered when the woman informed him of her intact virginity.

  Another bright morning as she lay dreaming of freedom, watching the slanting sunbeams crawl across the wall, the door opened. Her bodyguard beckoned and escorted her up to the house.

  She stared in bewilderment at the garlands decorating the hallways and every room. Her mother came out of the kitchen with tears in her eyes. The sound and smells of food preparation wafted out.

  "Mother, what's going on?" After not speaking to anyone since her beating, and with the guard silencing even her attempts to keep her spirits up by singing, her voice croaked.

  "We have to get you ready. You must prepare yourself. Your father has arranged your marriage."