Together, they hurried forward, flashlight beams in tandem, pushing aside the tangled brush. In a small clearing, they found Tubby, immobile and caught in a vicious looking trap. His fine-boned leg looked to be shattered and his panting seemed shallow. Too shallow.
Sam wanted to weep. “I’d like to find whoever put this trap here and shut their foot in it so they can see how it feels.”
Hearing her voice, the poodle slowly moved his head, gazing up at her with glazed eyes. Confused, he struggled to get to his feet to greet them. Instead, he thrashed once and gave a sharp yelp. Dried blood matted his white fur, and the leaves under him were all rust-colored.
He smelled of decay and death. Or, as Luc had said, of fear and pain.
“Not good,” Luc grunted.
She looked up to find that, instead of watching the dog, he was studying her.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Sam agreed. Her fingers itched to touch the little dog and heal him. But she’d just healed the cat earlier that day. Once, several years ago, she’d attempted to heal two animals a day apart. The effort had nearly killed her. She’d been unconscious for twenty-seven hours, and Patricia had been on the verge of calling the hospital.
No, this time Sam couldn’t help the poodle. Patricia would be on her own, with her veterinary skills and prayers. “Can you get him free?”
“Yes.” Crouching down beside the dog, Luc examined the trap.
“Let me hold him.” She moved closer. “He’s out of his head with pain. I’m afraid he’ll snap at you.”
“Don’t worry about that.” As Luc knelt beside the animal, the dog ceased whimpering. Weakly lifting his head, Tubby sniffed at him. Then, to Sam’s astonishment, he laid his little head on Luc’s knee and sighed, closing his eyes.
Sam’s throat ached. Tubby’s actions were tantamount to a declaration of trust. Moved, she went around to the other side. “How can I help?”
“Wait until I get him free.” Wincing, Luc pried apart the rusted metal and gently freed the poodle’s mangled leg.
The injury didn’t look good. Without her healing powers, the dog might have to endure an amputation, Sam knew. Only Patricia could say for sure.
“We need to blow the whistle,” Luc stated. “The trap nearly severed his leg.” When Luc gazed directly at her, Sam saw a question in his eyes. “Can you help him?”
The darkness suddenly felt suffocating.
She shook her head. “No.”
“If you can heal this little dog, you must.”
Chest tight, she stared at him, unable to speak. In a way, he was so right. And also so, so wrong.
How could she even think of making the attempt, when she knew what such an effort would cost her? Yet if she did nothing…
“Tubby will die if you don’t.” The urgency in his tone told her he spoke the truth. At that moment, the dog moaned. “At least do something to ease his pain.”
She bit her lip. Luc didn’t understand how standing by and doing nothing while Mrs. Atkinson’s beloved pet suffered and died a slow death would hurt her.
But Sam knew if she tried, she’d only fail.
Patricia was the dog’s only hope now.
Standing, Sam blew her whistle—two short blasts, then again. Patricia would know how to help Tubby.
“What are you doing?” Luc’s quiet voice matched his expressionless face. Only his eyes registered emotion. In them, she saw both sorrow and anger.
“I’m calling Patricia. If anyone can help Tubby, she can.” Kneeling down beside the dog, Sam murmured words of encouragement, taking care not to place her hands on the animal’s bloodstained coat. She couldn’t afford to risk even an accidental transfer of energy.
As Luc started to argue, Patricia burst into the clearing, carrying a large lantern. Two of her employees flanked her, one lugging a large ice chest on wheels, the other holding a plastic board to use as a portable stretcher, as well as another lantern.
“You found him?”
“Yes. He’s hurt.”
“How badly?”
Jaw working, Luc stepped aside so that she could see.
Patricia gave a horrified gasp, dropping to her knees beside Sam. Tubby moaned again. The vet smoothed back enough fur so she could feel the animal’s skin. “He’s burning up. His heartbeat is uneven, unsteady.”
“Can you give him something for the pain?” Sam kept her attention focused on the dog, avoiding looking at Luc.
“Yes.” She readied a syringe.
Sides heaving, Tubby began to shiver convulsively.
“He’s in shock.” Patricia turned her sharp gaze on Sam. Sam cut her eyes to Luc, then gave the tiniest shake of her head. Patricia knew she couldn’t heal two animals this close together.
“Can you help him?” Luc asked.
“I don’t know.” Grimly, Patricia motioned to one of her assistants to bring the ice chest. “But I’m sure as hell going to try.”
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Sam whispered words of encouragement to the poodle. She didn’t know if the dog could hear her, but she hoped she was helping in some small way.
“You all need to leave,” Patricia ordered. “Sam will stay and assist me. Go back and tell the others that Tubby’s been found. Don’t tell Mrs. Atkinson how badly he’s hurt.”
The two teenage vet assistants exchanged looks, then took off at a jog. They left both the portable stretcher and the ice chest.
Eyes narrowed, Luc looked from Sam to Patricia and back again. He didn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Pushing herself to her feet, Patricia stood toe to toe with him, her nose inches from his. “Do you want the dog to die?”
Amazed, Sam watched as Luc bared his teeth. He appeared to realize what he was doing, and shook his head instead. “Of course not.”
“Then go. Now.” Her fierce tone left no room for argument.
“Please,” Sam added. She didn’t look at Luc, nor watch for other searchers. Instead, knowing what she had to do despite the danger to herself, she let her awareness of everything except the wounded dog fade.
Dimly, she registered the sound of leaves crunching under Luc’s shoes as he moved away. Then she placed her hands gently on Tubby’s heaving sides.
“Sam?” Patricia’s voice came from a long way off. “What are you doing? You know better than to try and heal now. You know you can’t—”
Sam tuned her out. The heat in her hands began to build. Images—of the moist earth, soft beneath Tubby’s feet. A smorgasbord of scents, rabbit scat and birds and the occasional rodent.
Then…snap. The clang of the trap snapping shut, Tubby’s surprised yelp, the awful hurt. Clawing at a nonliving enemy, not understanding the attacker. Then blackness. The poodle had gone limp, unconscious, howling only inside at the agonizing pain.
Sam’s heart pounded, her blood pulsing through her veins. Energy rushed through her, making her skin and fingers burn.
Heal.
Even as she thought this, Tubby’s bones began to knit together. The bleeding stopped, the wound closed, skin formed, fur recovered. Tubby stopped shivering and lay motionless, his breathing less labored.
Finally, as her heartbeat slowed and exhaustion overtook her, Sam knew Tubby was once again whole. Healed.
Utterly depleted, she lifted her head and tried to make out Patricia’s face. All she could think of was that Luc had been right. She was a healer. But of animals, not people.
“Are you all right?” Patricia asked. “You know what happened to you last time…”
“I know. I think I’ve gotten…stronger. Maybe.” Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Sam glanced around the glade and beyond, trying to see into the wavering shadows beneath the trees. “Where’s Luc? He didn’t…?”
Patricia steadied her. “He left. I watched him go. There’s no way he saw anything. You’re safe.”
Suddenly, Sam was tired of being safe, though she didn’t know what else she wanted. The after-effects of the healing
were what made her feel so moody and sad, she knew. Temperamental and depleted. She was always like this after she healed even one animal. She had no idea what healing two would do to her this time.
Frankly, she was surprised she hadn’t already collapsed. She ought to feel relieved. Luc hadn’t seen her. He still didn’t know for sure.
Patricia was watching her with concern. “You look really awful, worse than normal. You know you can’t heal two so close together. Are you sure this hasn’t been too much for you?”
Not wanting to worry her friend, Sam attempted a smile. “So far, so good.”
“Okay.” Patricia gazed down at Tubby. “How are we going to explain this radically healed dog to Luc and my assistants? All three saw how close to death Tubby was.”
“I don’t know.” Sam rubbed her eyes, her voice cracking. “I’ll leave that up to you. Wrap the leg, even though it’s healed. Maybe you can keep them from examining him too closely.” She took a deep breath, hoping for strength, at least until she got home. “I need to go.”
Giving Patricia, who still cradled the small animal, a quick smile, Sam turned and stumbled, nearly dropping her flashlight. Grabbing a slender tree, she righted herself. “Sheesh. Okay, this does seem worse than usual. It’s to be expected.” She staggered a few more steps before stopping to rest.
“Sam, wait.”
But she couldn’t. Lifting her hand in a limp wave and shaking with exhaustion, she stumbled toward the road, slipping on leaves and sticks and stones. Sam prayed she could avoid Luc, reach her car, then get in and drive. She had to make it home before passing out. Once there, she planned to tumble into the lavender-scented sheets on her soft bed and fall into oblivion. She felt as if she could sleep for days.
Attempting to start her car, she fumbled with the keys, surprised at how violently her hands were shaking. Her vision grayed and suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath. Sucking in shallow gasps of air, she realized driving might not be the best option.
Again, darkness threatened. She got out of her car, legs unsteady. Slipping back into the woods, she used trees to help her stand, her flashlight beam wavering in the darkness.
She had to find Patricia.
Years ago, she’d tried to heal two animals and nearly died. She felt as awful now. Patricia had helped her then.
Patricia would know what to do to help her now.
Chapter 6
Frustrated, Luc paced the parking lot near the small park. All of his kind paced when agitated; doing so was the closest they could come to their other nature without physically changing into a wolf.
Despite every indication otherwise, Sam was not a healer.
The poodle had been as good as dead when they’d found him. If ever Sam would have revealed her healing powers, that would have been the time. Even though they’d made him leave, Luc had seen Patricia getting out her veterinary kit and begin trying to save the animal by conven-tional means.
Sam had made no effort to help.
If not for the miraculous recovery of the stray cat, Luc would think he’d been wasting his time here.
Several people had come back to the gazebo. They again clustered in small groups, talking and waiting. Mrs. Atkinson was there, too, seated on a bench, still sniffling. Her bright orange-and-pink-flowered dress seemed an odd contrast to the somber mood in the air. Another older woman sat beside her, patting her arm.
Luc waited, too, though in constant motion. Any moment now he expected Patricia to bring the poodle’s body out of the woods. He didn’t envy whoever had the task of telling Mrs. Atkinson that her Tubby had died.
Again, the urge to change swept through him—again, he pushed it away. He had no time for his wolf, not now. Luc sighed. He didn’t envy his own job, either—calling Frank and telling him reports of a healer had been greatly exaggerated.
What about Tomas Barerra? Luc had talked with the young Halfling, heard him tell the same story over and over again. Tomas truly believed that the woman called Sam Warren had touched him and healed him with her hands.
Sam. Luc clenched his teeth. Why he was furious with her, he didn’t really know. She’d done nothing, claimed nothing, tried all along to tell him she wasn’t what he thought she was, or wanted her to be.
He sighed. Time to pack it in, admit defeat and…
Leave her?
Every instinct rebelled.
Kissing Sam had felt like coming home.
Disgusted with himself and the entire situation, he jammed his hands in his pants pockets and waited.
A moment later, Sam came staggering out of the woods. The others turned to gawk at her, but when she fell, no one moved to assist her.
Except Luc. A few steps carried him to her.
“Let me help you.” Slipping one hand under her arm, he steadied her. She gazed up at him with a blank stare, pure exhaustion in her expression and in the hollows under her rich amber eyes.
To his shock, he realized she was weeping. Silent tears made silver streaks down her pale, creamy cheeks. So Tubby had died, as he’d suspected he would. Luc’s hand shook as he reached up and wiped away one tear with his finger. “Sam?”
“I’ve got to go home,” she told him thickly, never taking her gaze from his.
“You’re in no condition to drive.” As she started a weak protest, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his rental car. Instead of objecting further, she let her head loll against his chest.
By the time he opened the passenger door and placed her in the seat, Sam had fallen asleep.
The drive seemed too short. Pulling up in front of her garage, he let the car idle, and savored her closeness.
Then, reluctantly, he shook her. “Come on, Sam. You’re home. Time to wake up.”
She didn’t stir. He couldn’t release her; she lolled against the back of the seat as though boneless.
“Sam?” He felt the first stirring of alarm. “Sam, come on, honey. Wake up.”
When nothing happened, full-fledged panic set in. What had happened to Sam in the woods? Digging for his notebook, he found Patricia’s cell phone number and punched it in.
In a few short words he told her what had happened.
“Damn, I knew this would…”
“Would what?”
“Take her to the hospital, now.”
“Would what, Patricia?”
There was silence for long moments, then she whispered, “Luc?” Her voice shook. “The last time she tried this, years ago, she nearly died. Please. Take her to the emergency room. If you care about her at all, get her some help.”
Patricia didn’t know it, but he was already on the way.
Screeching into the hospital driveway minutes later, Luc pulled up right in front of the emergency room doors. Ignoring the burly security guard trying to tell him he must move the vehicle, he slammed the car into Park and went around to the passenger side to yank open Sam’s door.
Scooping her up in his arms—he’d never realized before how fine-boned she was—he left the rental car running and strode into the hospital.
Someone brought a wheelchair. Luc started to brush past, but realized he’d need his hands free to fill out paperwork. The instant he released his hold on her and settled her in the chair, she was whisked away.
Attempting to follow was futile—three people stepped into his path. A tall woman in dull purple scrubs took his arm and steered him toward a desk. “I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork, sir.”
Sam’s heart stopped twice in as many hours. Each time, they were able to bring her back. Each time, Luc was kept from the room.
His tenuous grip on his temper slipped, fear for Sam making him want to fight his way to her. Something of this must have shown in his expression, frightening the young orderly who’d been given the job of keeping them updated.
Somehow, Luc got himself under control. Still frantic, he paced the halls, his own heart hurting. Did they not understand he needed to be with her? She was his mate, damn it. He coul
d help her. Somehow. If they’d just let him close.
But when they’d found out he wasn’t a relative, they’d barred him from her room. “Intensive care,” they told him, and when Patricia arrived they recited the same words to her.
“She doesn’t have any family,” Patricia told the head nurse and anyone else who would listen. “We’re the closest thing she has.”
But they wouldn’t listen.
His frustration building—he could help her, he knew he could help her, somehow, someway—Luc paced and paced.
“We won’t be getting any progress reports now, since you scared the orderly,” Patricia said glumly. “You’d better hope Sam doesn’t die.”
Die? Numb, he stared at her. “They’ve got her heart beating again,” he croaked. “Surely, she won’t…”
He couldn’t even say the word. His agitation grew, until finally, unable to take any more, he charged the orderly blocking the door to her room, knowing he had to get to her. No matter who or what he had to go through to do so.
With the element of surprise on his side, Luc succeeded in pushing the large man out of the way. Several nurses, doctors, people surrounded her bed, working frantically to help her.
More than he needed to breathe, Luc needed to see her. To touch her. To feel the beat of her heart.
But still they sought to keep him from her.
No longer. With no help for it, he shoved his way between two women, taking them by surprise. Something—maybe the look on his face—made them scatter.
With tubes, monitors and wires surrounding her, Sam looked tiny and defenseless, dwarfed in the hospital bed. Her gray skin and still body made Luc pull back his lips in a snarl.
“Mine,” he growled, daring them to contradict him. “Mine.” His mate.
One man, a doctor, moved to intercept him. “You need to leave so we can help her.”
“I can help her,” Luc told him, though he wasn’t sure how.
“Someone call security!”
Before the doctor had finished speaking, one of the machines began to shriek a warning.
“She’s arresting again.” Focused on saving Sam’s life, the medics pushed Luc to the side and again surrounded her.
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