Healer's Magic

by Teagan Kearney

  Tatya collapsed, curling up in a ball on the floor, shuddering as a dreadful premonition coursed down the link before it went dead. He would have figured out where she was in time, but now his suspicions were confirmed. He would concentrate his efforts, not just on Orleton, but on St. Raphael’s. She didn't move till she heard footsteps and voices along the corridor, then jumped to her feet, shoved her hair behind her ears and straightened her clothes.

  Vanse had barely opened the door before she lashed out at him. "Do you feel nothing when you kill?" But she bit off the rest of her sentence as a hospital orderly wheeled Aunt Lil's wheelchair into the room, followed by a young nurse, and two vamps on guard duty.

  "This way," Vanse led them into the bedroom. "It is safer for your aunt down here," he said, ignoring her outburst.

  Tatya trailed behind, as the nurse helped Aunt Lil into the king-sized bed, plumping up the cushions behind her back. Vanse and Tatya watched as the nurse took her blood pressure.

  "She's fine. I'll be back in a while to check on her. If she wants to walk around, as long as she feels strong enough, that's good," the young woman told Tatya, "but I'll leave the wheelchair here, just in case she wants a change of scenery and gets tired."

  "Thank you."

  Tatya couldn't help but notice the fearful looks the hospital staff cast at their vampire escort as they left. A week ago, she'd have done the same. Today, they'd become so much a part of her life, she hardly noticed their presence.

  "I will take a nap if you don't mind, Tatya dear. This excitement is quite tiring."

  "Of course." Tatya smoothed the silk coverlet and kissed her aunt. "I'll be in the next room."

  Vanse sprawled in one of the deep brown leather armchairs, his long legs stretched out, his eyes hooded, his presence a silky sullenness barbed with death. As always, hovering like a silent companion, was his agonizing guilt. "More coma victims have been brought in. The Sheriff and the Major have made the decision to evacuate all other patients from the hospital. It's becoming too dangerous." His gaze slid up and down Tatya, taking in her jittery restlessness.

  "What will you and your vamps do if you run out of blood bags?"

  "That was a stupid thing you did."

  Tatya raised her chin and didn't make eye contact. She knew what he was referring to, but if he was looking for an apology, he could go sing.

  "If I did that, you'd wish you didn't have ears," he told her getting up and walking toward the door. "Stay here, and stay out of my head," he threw over his shoulder before he left.

  Tatya did her best to resign herself to doing nothing. She peeked in on Aunt Lil, thinking she had lost weight since she’d entered the hospital. There was, as yet, no sign of a diagnosis, and if her illness had a supernatural cause, then it might be a race to kill Angelus before her aunt died.

  "Tatya?"

  Oh, thank goodness. She tiptoed out of the bedroom, a big smile on her face at the sight of Corwin and Bellamy. "Am I glad to see you two." She wanted to hug them both but knew Corwin would be embarrassed and Bellamy would blush. "Sit down and tell me what's going on."

  Corwin sank into the depths of the armchair vacated by Vanse. Bellamy perched on the edge of what looked like an elegant antique Chippendale chair.

  "I'm making sure you're okay," Corwin said.

  "And your aunt," Bellamy added.

  "What's going on, guys? You two are being suspiciously nice."

  "Things are getting scary up there," Corwin pointed at the ceiling. "And outside. I tell you, Tatya, I've never seen anything like this. The atmosphere in the town, well, if you consider that down here in a vampire's lair, it's an improvement, you get the picture. The roads are jammed with people leaving town, and fights are breaking out between vamps and the special unit guys. Not Vanse's vamps. The other ones, that is."

  "They got the coolest weapons that can take a vamp out in one blast." Bellamy butted in with enthusiasm.

  Corwin shot him a dirty look. "We figure you're safest down here, Tatya. Vanse won't let the bastard get you."

  The memory of a knife piercing her skin, slicing up toward her heart, surfaced. Yes, she knew that.

  "More special unit forces are on their way, and Vanse is also calling for more of his, um, reinforcements," Bellamy added, trying hard, and failing, to suppress his eagerness.

  "Bellamy, do you have to sound like a ten-year-old kid?"

  "Boss, this is a once in a lifetime situation."

  Corwin rolled his eyes. "Let's hope it's not the last thing you see. Tatya, we gotta go. You take care of yourself and your aunt. Okay?"

  "Give my love to Winona."

  "I sent her to her mother in Knoxville. You know," he shrugged. "We'll see you soon."

  After they left, Tatya tried to imagine what living in town would be like. Instead of the familiar small town with people taking their kids to school, shopping, getting groceries, going to the doctors, business as usual, an intangible darkness had descended, one that was smothering goodness and decency. She must have dozed off, because when she woke Angelus was sitting in the armchair opposite her.

  "We'll be together in a short while," he said. "I told you, I'm closer to you than I've ever been."

  She tried to rise from her chair and warn Vanse, but her limbs refused to obey.

  "Turning Vanse was a mistake, my biggest, but I will rectify that soon. Your blood is already mixed with mine. The end has begun."

  He looked so beautiful.

  He smiled. "Accept that your destiny is with me." He stood next to her, reaching out, his fingers, as always, burning her face. "Soon you will have no one but me."

  "Tatya!" Vanse was shaking her.

  For a moment, she couldn't speak.

  "That's why you feel warm. That's why you, and everyone you turn, can walk in the day. You're half-demon too!" She jumped up and backed away from him. "You gave me demon blood. No wonder he knows where I am!"

  Vanse moved toward her. "Tatya."

  "No! Why don't you stab me like you always do? Get it over with."

  "That never solves the problem, Tatya. It only delays it until you are born again and Angelus finds you."

  His casual acceptance of the awful scenario stunned her. "Get out!" She walked toward him, stabbing her finger in his chest, pushing him back toward the door. She hated him almost as much as she hated Angelus. When he reached the door and could go no further, she pounded his chest with her fists, pummeling her frustrations and fears out on him.

  Vanse stood submissively and made no protest until her emotional outburst was exhausted. He put his arms around her, holding her close. Demon warmth against her cheek. The link between them flared, his bright gold drowning her swollen anger. "Thank you for holding back," he whispered, bending down, stroking, smoothing her hair.

  She hated him and she loved him.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  "We'll finish this later," he said.

  She stared at the door after he'd gone, her emotions churning, and power dripping from her fingers. She couldn't be falling for Vanse, could she? A whimper from the bedroom interrupted her thoughts, and she hurried to check on her aunt. Aunt Lil slept with eyelids twitching, her aura cleared of any dirty gray smears, but still milky and fragile. Tatya stroked her aunt's forehead, and whatever disturbed her dreams ceased. She closed the door.

  When Vanse returned with the young nurse from earlier in tow, Tatya had dozed off on the sumptuous couch and regained a measure of inner balance.

  The nurse held up a small container with several pills. "Time for your aunt's medication."

  "Nurse Shelby, isn't it?" Vanse asked, glancing at her name tag.

  "Yes, sir." The young nurse appeared more assured than before, for which Tatya was grateful. It meant she would concentrate on her job and less on worrying about hungry vamps needing a snack.

  "You and I have to attend a meeting. Nurse Shelby will sit with your aunt, and I'll send Sean along. I know your aunt has a soft spot for him." He turned
to the nurse. "There are guards outside if you need anything."

  "Thank you." Tatya smiled at the young woman as she disappeared into the bedroom, glad her aunt was still receiving professional care.

  Tatya followed a silent Vanse as he led her along the corridor and down a narrow staircase past two more levels. She tried to push thoughts of her earlier outburst at him out of her mind, but they lingered, chaining them together as conspirators and collaborators. As they emerged into an enormous room, she stopped dead, her mouth dropping open. For a second, she was lost for words as she gawped at the painted gold and white walls, complex gilded wall carvings, ornamental patterns of stylized flowers, and the painted ceiling mural of a pastoral scene. "What do you do here?" she asked. "Have grand balls?"

  "Yes, sometimes," he answered simply.

  She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of Vanse and his swarm of vamps dolled up in tuxedos and ball gowns sipping A and O negative out of crystal glasses, and dancing to an orchestra playing Viennese waltz music.

  She spotted Sean standing in one group at the far end of the room. He chatted with two vampires, then nodded at Vanse, and moved toward the door. Vanse must be telling him to sit with Aunt Lil. She shot a look of gratitude at Sean, and he grinned back at her. She looked around. Where were Corwin and Bryson? But before she'd time to ask, Vanse escorted her over to a huge, exquisite marble table. He sat at the head, placing Tatya on his right, as the other vampires seated themselves. She acknowledged the three master vampires she'd met in the previous meeting, but they stared back at her with cold eyes.

  Half the vampires didn't speak English. If she had to say what language they were using, she'd have said Eastern European. Hungarian maybe, or Romanian. But the conversation could have been in Mongolian for all she knew, and as the meeting progressed she couldn't figure out why Vanse had brought her to what turned out to be a vamp conference. A sliver of resentment simmered. She was here so he could keep an eye on her, because he didn't trust her to do as he ordered. Yet as she sat watching, trying not to yawn, listening to the rhythms of unfamiliar languages, she ended up admiring Vanse as she watched him listen, chide, chivvy, and maneuver the group into agreeing to his plans. This Vanse was one she could respect.

  An hour later and glad it was over, Tatya trailed behind Vanse back to her suite, with two vamp bodyguards in front and two behind. "Sean," she called entering Vanse's suite. The door to the bedroom opened and Nurse Shelby appeared.

  "Oh, there, you are," she exclaimed. "I have to get back. My nursing manager will dock my pay if she thinks I've gone AWOL."

  "Didn't Sean turn up?" Vanse asked.

  "No one came, but I'll be back with her last dose of her medication before I finish my shift."

  Vanse glanced at the guards, and they escorted her out. "Something's not right—I can't contact Sean."

  "I'm going to check on Aunt Lil. I don't want her worrying."

  "She is fine. It's you I worry about."

  But Tatya wasn't listening. She opened the door and sighed with relief. Her aunt slept, her chest rising and falling, her breathing shallow but steady.

  Two more vamps appeared out of nowhere.

  Vampires living with their master must save a bomb on phone bills, thought Tatya as Vanse summoned half a dozen more vamps to join the search.

  "The longer we live in proximity to each other, the easier it is to communicate," he told her. "The further from their master a vampire lives, the weaker the link becomes. It’s odd that I can't connect with Sean. He's a young vampire and always lived with me. The link is strong. He shouldn't be able to avoid my command."

  Tatya followed Vanse out of the room. If anything was up with Sean, she wanted to know.

  The vamps didn't take long to locate him. He lay curled up in a ball on the floor of a linen cupboard.

  Tatya wanted to run to him, but Vanse held her back. "Wait."

  No arguing with that tone, she thought, watching as he stood over Sean. No doubting who the master was. Vanse emitted dominance. Sean whimpered and curled in tighter on himself.

  "What's happened to him?" Tatya asked, opening her aura and scrying the room for clues.

  "Stop." Vanse hissed, gold sparks flaring in his eyes as he turned toward her. "This stinks of Angelus."

  The heat of his anger, sharp and abrasive, mixed with anxiety for Sean, washed over her, and she raised her shields. She hated being told what to do, Being bossed around by others was one reason she started her own business, but this time he was right, and she swallowed her irritation.

  Vanse crouched, concentrating. Closing his eyes, he put one hand on Sean's head, and the other on his back, level with his heart.

  Tatya sensed the energy flowing from Vanse to Sean as he sought the source of the problem. If she closed her eyes, she would see the living strand of bright gold. She was learning a lot about the bonds linking vampires by seeing Vanse in action. Cutting the connection was possible; just as Vanse had when she'd linked with him when he was fighting. But the bond could never be severed completely. How strong was Vanse's link to Angelus? Had time weakened it enough for him to ignore it?

  After a minute, Sean opened his eyes and looked around, confused. "Why am I here?" He sat up. "What's going on?"

  "What's the last thing you remember?" Vanse asked, pulling Sean to his feet.

  "Tatya," he said, looking from one to the other. "I was following Tatya.

  Chapter Seventeen: Antisuyu, High Andes, 1500, AD

  She rested and watched the dawn flood the land with rosy light as the sun rose over the mountains. Bowing to the Gods, her spirit lifted in gratitude for their gifts, and she offered thanks to Inti, the all-powerful Sun God. She continued climbing, determined to reach her destination before the sun was too high. Even though she was approaching her middle years, her brown curls thinning and graying, her skin dry, with age lines appearing on her pale gold skin, her green eyes were still bright and her body strong.

  When she arrived at the summit, the sun had not yet attained its zenith, and a smile of satisfaction lit her face. The climb had been difficult but worthwhile. The upper reaches of the mountain supplied her with plenty of the precious purple shanshi plant. She patted the bag hanging at her waist, full with roots to replenish her own stock, and with enough berries to satisfy Vachama, the village priest.

  She gazed up at the higher peaks where some wore crowns of jagged ice all year long. Below, the mountains merged with the lush jungle, and a vast, green sea stretched to the horizon. The healer thanked the Gods she was of The Blessed People who lived in the kingdom of the skies.

  By the time she descended to the small plateau where the ancestors had built their squat stone dwellings, the Sun God was disappearing from the sky and the Moon Goddess had risen in full glory. The storytellers said the Moon Goddess, Ka-Ata-Killa chased Iti because he betrayed her. Now she chased him for eternity, but could never catch him.

  The healer's legs ached as she walked through the quiet village. Firelight flickered from the windows, and smoke rose from the roof openings. Children's laughter, subdued voices, and smells of food filled the air as women prepared and served the evening meal. She hurried toward her own dwelling. Thankfully, no one waited in need of her services.

  Later that night, she jerked awake out of a deep sleep, and it took a few minutes before the insistent knocking and voice calling her name registered.

  “Healer!"

  If someone came in the middle of the night, it was urgent. Throwing her shawl around her shoulders, she opened the door. The mother of a child treated for fever a bare two days ago stood hunched against the cold. The healer took a step back—the woman's aura was spiking purple and red with distress.

  "Please, come," the woman begged. "It's Urco. He is sick with the fever again. It has come back and is worse this time."

  Within minutes, the healer had grabbed a bag of herbs, and the two women scurried through the night's patchwork of moonlight and shadows.

&n
bsp; At the woman's home, the healer examined the boy; his aura was a dull yellow, splotched with ugly gray smears, and his skin was hot to her touch. The child tossed and turned, not asleep, yet not awake.

  Before the healer had dosed the lad with strong remedies to little effect and had to call the priest. Vachama said the demon was powerful and fought hard to stay, but he cast him out. Had the demon returned? She'd heard of such cases, but they were rare. Worrying thoughts niggled at as she looked at the boy. This would disturb everyone.

  The healer laid one hand on the boy's head, and the other on his heart, and sent her power into the boy's body, checking the strength of his life force. His inner organs were burning. At that moment, the lad's eyes flickered open and staring out at her was the blue-eyed, red-gold haired demon who'd haunted her since childhood. She froze. Of late, his determination to taunt her had become almost unbearable.

  He smiled at her and spoke words only she could hear. "I have searched for a long time," he said, "but soon, we will meet."

  She trembled in terror. "Fetch Vachama," she whispered to the boy's mother. "The demon has returned."

  After one sun and one moon had gone by, the village priest led the boy's funeral procession as it wound its way to the burial grounds. Drummers beat a slow, somber rhythm to accompany the ceremonial chant that guided the soul on its journey to the afterlife.

  The healer followed behind in her traditional position, but even without seeing their expressions, she was aware people blamed her. Vachama said he'd defeated the demon, though she'd seen him in the boy's eyes. Yet the priest was more powerful, and if it was her word against his, the community would believe him. It was in his interest to encourage such rumors, as he'd always seen her as a challenge to his position, and stirring up her neighbors was simple work for him. The death of the boy implied her medicines were no longer potent, and the Goddess of Health, Quechua, had withdrawn her blessings.

  The Keeper of the Graves waited for them outside the burial grounds. He was a strange man and lived as an outcast. Tall, with dark hair and golden skin, he shunned the villagers' company, preferring to dwell apart. The feeling was mutual, and the villagers avoided him if they could, making protective signs whenever they saw him. They never bothered him because they feared him. Yet he came to pay his respects.