The Cure

by JG Faherty

  “Leah?”

  John’s voice! He was alive.

  Relief spread through her, its warmth pushing away the chill from the ground. She rolled her body in the other direction, found John lying a few feet away, his hands and feet also bound.

  “John! Are you all right? Did I…?”

  His smile was the most welcome sight in the world, even if it was just a ghost of its regular self. “I’m fine. You Cured me. Again. This is getting to be a regular habit.”

  “How long…?” The last thing she remembered was a terrible pain after laying her hands on John. But other than some aches and pains, and the rubbed-raw feeling from her bindings, she didn’t hurt at all, which meant not too much time could have passed. Otherwise she’d be feeling the effects of taking in John’s wound.

  John’s smile faded, and something changed in his eyes, and she knew bad news was coming.

  “You’ve been unconscious for at least an hour, maybe longer. Apparently you passed out after curing me, and…” His voice trailed off, like a child admitting a wrongdoing to a parent.

  It didn’t matter. She had a pretty good idea of what must have happened. “Don’t tell me. Someone touched me.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know if you were even awake, or if it happened while you were still unconscious. I woke up after…after it was all over.”

  “Who died?” She had to know. Another black mark on her soul. This time someone who probably didn’t even deserve it.

  That’s not true. One of them shot John. And they’re holding you against your will.

  All true, but it didn’t do anything to ease her guilt.

  “One of the men who came in with the priest. It sounds like it was an accident. I only caught a few bits of conversation before they tied us up again and left.”

  “They left?” Leah tried to look around, but it hurt her neck too much. “We’re alone?”

  “No.” John motioned with his head, but she couldn’t figure out what direction he was indicating. “They went into another room. I heard the door shut. My guess is they’re trying to decide what to do with us and they didn’t want us to hear.”

  That can’t be good. She didn’t bother voicing her concern out loud. One look at John’s face told her he felt the same.

  Leah desperately wanted to feel John’s touch. If they only had minutes to live, she wanted whatever comfort she could take. Ignoring the stinging of her ankles and wrists, she squirmed towards him. As soon as she started moving, he copied her, inching his body in her direction.

  When they met, all they could do was lean against each other, but it got them close enough to share a long, soulful kiss. Neither passionate nor sad, it was an expression of love, more than sexual heat or despondent acceptance of their situation. And for one brief moment, Leah felt nothing but happiness.

  Then a door slammed and footsteps sounded on the hard concrete. They drew closer, each one a stab in Leah’s heart as thoughts of execution went through her head. She wondered if it was the same feeling criminals felt on death row as the guards approached the cell for the last time, or the way prisoners felt back in the days of firing squads or hangings, waiting, blindfolded and bound, for their death sentence to be carried out.

  Or worse, the way shelter animals felt when the person with the needle came down the hall. Did the dying cats and dogs in her clinic basement feel that resignation when she came down the stairs? Did they wonder if it was their time? And if they did, were they glad their suffering was coming to an end or were they like many people, desperate to hold on to every last second of life, afraid of what lay beyond?

  Faces appeared above her. The kidnapper and one of his men.

  “The decision has been made.”

  More faces appeared, and then strong hands gripped her arms, pulled her to her feet. Next to her, two men hauled John up as well. They were guided to chairs and told to sit.

  “Don’t keep us in suspense,” John said.

  The priest stepped forward. When he spoke, his eyes mirrored the pity in his voice, lending it credence. That pity scared Leah more than anything, because it meant bad news was on the way. Again.

  “I saw the power within you,” he said to her. “Perhaps it is God who gave it to you, perhaps the devil. It no longer matters. What I have seen is that you have no control over this thing inside you.”

  “That’s not true!” Leah felt herself growing angry again. How was it that everyone thought they could speak for what she was, who she was? “I’ve controlled it for years, until all you people forced me into these situations.”

  “I believe that. However, I also believe you are refusing to admit the truth. That things have changed. I watched a man touch you and die.”

  “That’s different. I was unconscious.”

  The priest nodded. “Yes. And what if it had been a stranger who found you that way? Or someone in your family? What happens if you are in a crowd of people, and you touch someone who is ill, and then someone touches you? Or…” he narrowed his eyes and his voice grew colder, “…what if someone like Tal Nova kidnaps you again and forces you to do his bidding? You’ve killed people to save your lover’s life. How many more times would you do it before you refuse?”

  Leah opened her mouth to argue, and then paused. In truth, she didn’t have the control she’d thought she had. Sure, in a safe environment like her office, she was fine. But in the real world, the world where violence and evil were as much a part of things as kindness and good intentions? What lengths would she go to in order to keep John alive and healthy? Or herself, for that matter?

  What if she touched the wrong person at the wrong time? When you thought about it, it was something of a miracle that an accident hadn’t happened already.

  “Leah…” John said, clearly a warning not to listen to the priest’s words.

  But how could she not? He was right.

  “So you’re going to kill me?” she asked.

  Another nod. “I am afraid there is no other way. Either you are a tool of Satan, or you have strayed too far from God’s path. Either way, you pose too great a threat to the world.”

  “Then can I ask a favor?” She was surprised at her own calm. “Spare him.” She tilted her head towards John. “He’s got nothing to do with…what I am.”

  “Of course.” The priest’s words carried truth and compassion. “We are not murderers. He will be released after this is over.”

  “You might as well kill me too,” John said, his voice as hard and cold as Leah had ever heard him. “Because I promise I will hunt you down and kill every one of you if you don’t.”

  The priest shrugged. “That is between you and God. I do not control the future. My job is simply to make the world a safer place.”

  He placed his hand on Leah’s forehead and began reciting words in Spanish. Even though it had been many years—too many to count—since she’d last been in church, and her knowledge of Spanish was limited to a few words, she recognized it as a prayer.

  Is he reading me the Last Rites? Asking God to spare my soul? Or maybe asking that his own be spared, considering he was a priest ready to commit—or at least condone—murder.

  She turned to John to say goodbye, wishing her last memory of him weren’t the terrible sadness and anger etched across his face. She opened her mouth, not knowing what she would say. There were so many things, and not enough time. John’s eyes grew wide, and she knew her time must be up, that someone was pointing a gun at her head.

  “John, I—”

  The world exploded around her, stealing away her last words. For a brief moment she felt like she was flying, her weightless body sailing through the air on invisible wings.

  I thought dying would be more painful…

  And then there was only darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Leah? Leah? Leah?”r />
  Yes, that’s my name. Now let me go back to sleep.

  Leah wished God would leave her alone. Heaven had started out so wonderful—just empty space, no light, no sound, no body. It was beautiful in its emptiness because it provided the one thing she craved: relaxation. She could finally just lie still and do nothing. Be nothing. Forget all the worries of her earthly life, the constant tensions that came with trying to keep her Power a secret from the whole world. And then she’d failed at that, which had only made life even harder. She’d been afraid of death, but it had turned out to be the best thing for her. Just a long sleep, as if God had taken that perfect time between midnight on Saturday night and 10:00 a.m. on Sunday, and extended it forever.

  In between stretches of nothing, she’d had some random thoughts about her old life. She’d miss her parents, and John, of course. She’d miss working with the animals she loved so much. She hoped they’d all learn how to get along without her, and not spend too much time bemoaning her loss. But mostly those were just wisps that moved in and around her consciousness, the opposite of dream fragments in earthbound sleep. And just like she’d always enjoyed doing when she woke too early on a Sunday morning, Leah mentally brushed the fragments away each time they appeared and let herself drift back into blissful sleep.

  All was fine until God began saying her name. At least she thought it was God. Maybe it wasn’t. After all, wouldn’t God know her name? And why would he want to wake her up after creating her own private heaven for her? So perhaps it wasn’t God. Who then? An angel? A fellow resident of heaven?

  “Leah. Leah. Can you hear me?”

  Someone or something knew it was her. Wanted her awake. She didn’t want to wake up, though. Waking might mean never recapturing Nirvana, might mean having to think again, make decisions again. Lose the perfect solitude she’d craved for so long and never even realized she needed until it miraculously fell into her lap.

  And now they wanted to rip heaven away from her? Why? Who would be so cruel?

  “Leah. Leah!”

  Damn them!

  Leah relinquished the darkness. More than she’d ever hated exiting dreamland on a Sunday morning, more than she’d ever hated waking up when all she wanted to do was sleep after a grueling week, she acquiesced to the inevitable—they weren’t going to go away—and opened her eyes.

  “Leah! Thank God!”

  “John?” His features were fuzzy around the edges but there was no mistaking the person looking down at her, relief branded across his face.

  “Oh, John, I’m so sorry they lied to you. I didn’t want this to happen.” The priest had promised not to kill him; now John was dead because of her. Well, at least they could be together in heaven.

  “What? Why… Never mind. There’s no time to talk now. We’ve got to get out of here while we can.” His strong hands grabbed her arms and pulled.

  She resisted. Why would he want to leave heaven? Maybe he didn’t realize where they were.

  “No. I’m happy here. This is my place, what I’ve been searching for. You can stay here too.”

  “You’re not making sense. I think you have a concussion. I’ll get you to a doctor as soon as we’re safe. Can you walk?” He tugged at her again, and for the first time she noticed that her head hurt. So did one shoulder. That didn’t make sense. How could you feel pain after you died?

  “C’mon!”

  This time she allowed John to help her to her feet. A rush of dizziness swept through her and her legs went weak. She gripped John’s arms to steady herself while the gray clouds rotated around her. The dizziness brought with it nausea, a feeling like her stomach was doing circles in time with the clouds.

  At that moment, she hated John. Whatever he’d done by waking her had ruined everything. Her body ached, her headache was growing in intensity, and the air stunk of dust and fire. It was like…

  Hell.

  “No!” She tried to pull away and he kept hold of her as her legs buckled again. “No! I don’t want to be here! This isn’t fair!” She’d sacrificed her life. Wasn’t that enough?

  “Stay close. We’re leaving. I promise.”

  With no strength to resist him, Leah did her best to walk as John half dragged, half guided her through the clouds of brimstone. Along the way, she caught glimpses of the nightmare world around her. Body parts scattered across the ground. Pools of blood. Smoldering pieces of rock. In the distance, anguished voices cried out for relief.

  Please, God, let this end. Get me out of here.

  Ahead of them, glowing symbols shined red-hot amid the smoke. Leah tried to focus on them but they remained blurred. Eyes? A face? She pulled away but John hauled her toward them. She tried to shout at him and lost her words to a fit of coughing as more fire-tinged air attacked her lungs. What was he doing? Was he in league with the evil forces?

  A wall loomed up out of the gray and John threw himself at it. She expected him to fall or bounce back. Instead, the stone gave way and a blinding light struck her. Hands pushed her forward.

  Suddenly, she could breathe again. She gulped at the cool, clean air. Wiped away the tears in her eyes.

  And saw they were in an alley.

  “How…?” Leah rubbed her eyes again, trying to clear the blurriness. A street? She looked behind her. A building. Gray bricks. Smoke pouring from shattered windows and an open door they’d just emerged from.

  A building?

  Not hell.

  Something much worse.

  John took her hand. “It’s okay. We’re safe now. Let’s go.” He led her down the alley, unaware that all she wanted to do was lie down and cry.

  No heaven. No hell.

  Just the terrible fact that she was still alive.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  By the time they found a cab willing to take them from Manhattan to Rocky Point, Leah had gotten enough control of herself so that she wouldn’t break down and cry or scream. John fussed over her in the back of the cab, dabbing blood away from her nose and ears, talking about how, as soon as they were home, they were getting her to a doctor.

  She let him talk, responding with the occasional monosyllabic answer when she could muster the strength. Mostly, though, she stared at the passing scenery and felt herself grow cold inside. Not her temperature, but her emotions. Each passing mile seemed to erase a little more sadness, a little more fear, a little more anger, until all that remained was reluctant acceptance.

  She was alive. Bad people were still after her. And good people would continue to die because of her.

  Unless she did something to change it all.

  The idea of suicide was an obvious one, but she quickly put that out of her mind. Although she no longer feared dying, enough of her Catholic upbringing remained in her that she was still pretty sure suicide meant going to hell. Which left only one other option.

  Disappearing.

  How hard could it be? You packed a bag, drained the cash from your bank account, dyed your hair and went “off the grid,” as people liked to say. She’d work odd jobs for cash. Stay at shelters. A hard life, for sure. But better than the alternative.

  There’d be no one to abuse her, threaten her. And no guilt about putting other people’s lives in mortal danger.

  It made perfect sense when you just stopped and thought about it.

  Of course, she couldn’t tell anybody. Not John, not her parents. That would be hard. But in the end, worth it to keep them safe. And being alone wouldn’t be so bad. Hell, with the exception of her parents and Chastity, she’d really had no friends or social life before John anyhow.

  Something dripped onto her hand, and she looked down. A drop of blood. Her nose was bleeding again. She dabbed at it with one of the napkins John had gotten from the taxi driver.

  He was right. She probably had a concussion. It made sense. There’d been an explosion. More violenc
e, someone attacking the religious men who’d kidnapped her. That was too bad. They’d been right, she probably should die. Maybe she would too. Living on the streets was dangerous, and it was obvious she couldn’t heal herself anymore. Otherwise her nose wouldn’t be bleeding. And her body wouldn’t hurt.

  Did the explosion do something to me? More than a concussion? Wouldn’t that be something if hitting her head had taken away her Power? Then she could really be free. If she could just tell people that… Of course, no one would believe her. They’d try to torture her into performing miracles, maybe even torture the people she cared about. No, running away, disappearing, that was still the only option.

  As soon as her head stopped pounding.

  “We’re here.”

  Leah looked up at the sound of John’s voice. She hadn’t noticed the cab had stopped. Hadn’t noticed her eyes were closed. How long? It didn’t matter. She was home.

  The door next to her opened and a hand reached for her. Who… John? How had he gotten over there? He helped her out, holding her steady.

  The walkway to her steps…why was it slanted? Stairs…one…two…three…

  The couch. So soft. She loved her couch. Was going to miss it. Why was she on the couch? Who was spinning the couch around?

  “Turn off the lights,” she said, but no one listened.

  So tired. Why wouldn’t they let her sleep?

  Then the lights went out, and everything was good again.

  “She’s resting now,” Jim Fogerty said, joining John in Leah’s kitchen. “Probably sleep ’til tomorrow.”

  “She’s okay, though?” John asked. He needed it to be so. Not just because he didn’t want anything to happen to Leah, but because if it was something serious, that would mean a hospital trip.

  He’d called in a major favor to get his brother-in-law to the house. Jim was only in his third year of practice and hadn’t been thrilled about getting involved in something that could mean his license. John had a feeling it was going to cost him big—as in Yankee play-off tickets big. But until he had time to arrange round-the-clock protection, they needed to stay under the radar.