CarnalHealing

by Virginia Reede

  As if reading her thoughts, the man, already finished buttoning his fly, again bent forward to kiss her. She dodged him.

  “I told you—you don’t have to kiss me.”

  His deep chuckle resonated in the alley. “And I told you that I did.” Again, he took her face in his hand and turned it so that he could kiss her. But this time she kept her lips shut and, after a moment of exploration, his kiss turned chaste and he released her.

  The silence felt awkward. “Thank you,” she said finally. “I needed that.”

  He laughed quietly. “Yeah, it seemed like you did.”

  Leonore sensed that he was about to reach for her again and took a step backward. “I’m going to go now. You might want to wait a few seconds before you follow me.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because we’ll look…” Leonore stopped. She was about to say they’d look suspicious, but who cared? She really just wanted a head start so he couldn’t follow her to the car.

  “Go ahead then,” he said, and something in his tone said he was humoring her but Leonore didn’t care. She turned and fled.

  “Good night,” she said as she quickly turned the corner on the sidewalk and resisted the urge to bolt for her car.

  She didn’t look back. But she was surprised how difficult it was not to do so.

  Chapter Three

  Leonore had awakened before dawn, still tingling with the fresh charge of her magic’s renewal. By ten, she had already finished the edits to her latest magazine article and sent it off to the editor, and was settling in with a second cup of coffee to research some websites that Lily, a sister from Rhode Island, had sent her. Lily had a theory that some Leonoreans had reached the Orient, and that certain famous female members of Chinese dynasties may have in fact been descendents of the original Leonore and her husband, Geoffrey Caernathen.

  It was a fascinating premise, and Leonore had been looking forward to exploring the theory, but she was having a hard time concentrating. Her mind kept wandering back to the night before and her lover’s blue eyes. She kept imagining his scent on her, although she had showered as soon as she’d gotten home and again this morning. And she kept remembering the twin throbs of his cock and her magic climaxing together…

  After reading a paragraph for the third time and coming no closer to grasping its meaning, she put down her now-tepid coffee and stood up. Picking up her purse and her car keys, she headed for the door. She knew where she was going before she even let the thought form.

  She was heading for the hospital.

  It’s not out of guilt, she told herself. It was always said among her sisters that Leonoreans were under no obligation to go out looking for ways to use their powers for good—they could wait until the opportunities inevitably arose.

  But it was easy to think that way if your powers were like those of her sisters—precognition, moving objects, sensing emotions and the like. It was different for Leonore.

  Because she had the power to heal. And there were so very many people who were in need of a miracle—the kind of miracle Leonore could give them.

  “But it takes so much out of you,” Ludmilla had argued the last time they had discussed it. “Even if you fucked ten guys a day, you could never even heal all the people in one section of one hospital.”

  “If she fucked ten guys a day, she wouldn’t be able to walk into the hospital,” Letisha had responded. “Never mind heal anyone once she got in there.”

  “But I feel like I should be doing something,” Leonore had responded. “It’s not fair to keep it all to myself.”

  “You’re not,” Tish had argued. “You saved Mrs. Blodgett, when her body was trying to reject her liver transplant. She never even knew how close she came to dying.” Mame Blodgett owned a local diner where Leonore liked to have breakfast. She had been on the waiting list for a long time before she got her new liver, and had been doing well for the first few weeks after the operation. Then, a few days after her doctor had given her the go-ahead to return to work, she had shown up at the counter to pour Leonore’s coffee, pale and shaky. As soon as Leonore had touched her hand she had felt what was going on. After finishing her breakfast, she had suggested Mame take a break and enjoy the beautiful spring day by resting for a few moments on the park bench outside.

  When the older woman had sunk gratefully on the seat beside her, Leonore had slipped an arm around her, and asked Mame to tell her how her many grandchildren were doing. As the woman droned on about the mundane doings of little Tiffany and Bobby and whomever else—Leonore had never really tried to keep them all straight—she had let her power rise and slip into Mame’s body. She had searched out the cells that were trying to force the new and foreign organ from its new home and calmed each one. She had strengthened the tenuous, budding connections between the old and the new tissues and calmed the inflammation and killed anything that felt like infection.

  By the end of the conversation, color was returning to Mame’s cheeks and her story had become more animated. Leonore was tired and had to go home and take a nap. Exhausted as she was, she’d had no choice but to go out to the bars that night and find a not-too-sober fraternity boy who’d been more than happy to fuck her in the back seat of his car.

  But I hadn’t just renewed myself that time, Leonore reminded herself as she pulled into the parking garage at Mass General Hospital for Children, and found a space near the elevators closest to the oncology department.

  * * * * *

  “What’s the matter, Jeff? Hung over?

  “What?” Jeff Carson looked up from the desk he shared with several other residents to see Mike’s smirking face. “No, no hangover. I feel fine.”

  It was true, he reflected. He really should have had a hangover, considering how much he’d had to drink the night before. And how little sleep he’d had. But instead, he felt terrific. Not only did he feel wide awake and full of energy, but the soreness in the knee he’d twisted playing basketball a week ago seemed to have finally healed.

  “Rough night?” Mike had been at Jake’s sports bar last night, but had been busy playing pool. Jeff didn’t think his friend had seen him leave with that crazy redhead.

  “Not particularly.” Jeff tried to keep his voice neutral.

  “I saw you drinking a martini. After all that scotch, I figured you’d be shit-faced.”

  I should have been. But as soon as I touched that woman’s arm, my head cleared.

  “I’m fine, Mike. I’m just thinking about what I’m going to say to the Thomases this morning.”

  It wasn’t true. He should have been planning the conversation, going over the points he needed to make. But he’d been thinking about her. That woman. The one who hadn’t told him her name.

  She’s just some horny woman, out to get laid, like she said. What other kind of woman would demand sex in an alley with a man she’d met less than a half hour before? She wouldn’t even come to his apartment, for chrissake. If he could have gotten her home, he could have really showed her a thing or two. The sex hadn’t lasted more than ten minutes. And that weird thing about not wanting to be kissed…

  “Earth to Jeff. Hello! You have a consultation to go to, buddy.”

  Jeff sighed and got to his feet, straightening the lab coat he wore over hospital scrubs. He wasn’t looking forward to this meeting, but it had to be done.

  * * * * *

  Leonore, clad in a jacket that looked vaguely medical, with an ID badge that, although it would not bear close inspection, was similar to those given out to social workers and other professional visitors to the hospital, walked down the hall as if she belonged there. Although there was more security than at a hospital that catered to adults, Leonore had learned that looking semiofficial and carrying a clipboard rather than a handbag would make her as invisible as a five-foot-eleven redhead could be. Additionally, she had learned to cast glamours, and that they could as easily be designed to make a witch less imposing as the opposite. She usually didn’t have t
o resort to this extreme, but it had come in handy a time or two.

  Now to find the right child. She purposely had timed her visit to coincide with visiting hours, but she didn’t want a parent to walk in during a healing. With a touch of glamour, she could usually convince a doctor or nurse she had a legitimate reason to be there, but parents of gravely ill children tended to be somewhat…intense.

  A couple stepped out of a room a few feet in front of her, and the man spoke back through the doorway. “We need to go now, baby. We’re going to meet with your doctor. We’ll be back in just a little while, okay?” Leonore couldn’t hear a response from the room, but there must have been one, because the two people, presumably the child’s parents, turned and passed her in the opposite direction, their faces solemn.

  Perfect. Both the parents and the doctor will be away for a few minutes. It’s all I need. With a glance back to make sure the pair turned the corner, Leonore slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.

  The child in the bed was very still, but her eyes were open. She was almost as white as the sheet pulled up to her chest, the only color provided by a pink cap, gaily festooned with white flowers, that hid what Leonore knew must be a bald head.

  “Hello,” said the child. “Are you a new nurse?” Her voice was quiet, but had an oddly cheerful lilt, and Leonore felt her heart squeeze. The brave ones always got to her.

  “Something like that.” Leonore moved to the side of the bed and held out her hand. “I’m Leonore. What’s your name?”

  “Lucy.” A tiny hand was raised and Leonore took it. It felt as insubstantial as a butterfly’s wing, but it squeezed in a momentary grip. Someone had taught this girl to shake hands.

  “That’s a pretty name. Do you know what it means?

  The eyes, which Leonore now saw were hazel, got very wide. “No. I didn’t know it meant anything. It’s just my name.”

  “It means ‘light’,” said Leonore. “Isn’t that a nice thing to be named after?”

  “Yes.” The girl smiled, and again Leonore felt that squeeze in her chest. “What does your name mean?”

  “Well, my name has ‘light’ in it too. It means ‘the Goddess is my light’.”

  Lucy’s mouth formed an “o”. “Wow. That’s a wonderful name.”

  “Do you mind if I sit with you for a few minutes?” At Lucy’s nod, Leonore sat on the side of the bed. “Can I feel your heartbeat?” Again, a nod, and Leonore settled her hand on the small chest. It seemed barely wider than the span from her wrist to her fingers.

  “You don’t use a stethoscope like the other nurses?” The word was carefully pronounced. Leonore imagined this child, who was no more than six, knew a lot of medical terms.

  “I like to feel how strong it is with my hand. Here, you can feel mine if you want.” Leonore leaned forward and guided the small hand to the spot just above her own breastbone where the pulse beat against the thin skin of her throat. “That’s right. Now, close your eyes and count the beats. Can you count to a hundred?”

  “Yes. One…two…”

  As the tiny voice droned, Leonore closed her own eyes and tuned out the sound. She reached for her magic, which leapt easily in response after so recent a renewal. She harnessed all her senses—touch, smell, taste, hearing—and searched for the cancer.

  After so many secret visits to oncology wards, she knew what she was looking for. The cancer cells had a certain texture and feel. When she found them, a bitter taste filled her throat and heaviness, like a sudden drop in barometric pressure, made her ears pop. Then, one by one, she started to destroy them.

  Other foreign things swirled in the child—the poisonous medicines of chemotherapy, which attacked the same cells that Leonore targeted. She demolished these as well—once her work was done, the child would have no need for them. She could also feel what she had come to think of as soldiers—the defenses of the girl’s own immune system, and she carefully moved these aside so as not to damage them.

  She sensed something else as well—something that seemed to be working with and propping up the weakened soldiers. Some medicine or treatment the child was receiving? She avoided harming this element, as it felt wholesome and good.

  “Forty-two…forty-three…”

  The counting droned on, and Lenore found more of the cancer around every turn. The little body was riddled with it. The magic danced and parried like a wielded sword, stinging and piercing the diseased cells. Pop, pop, pop, they exploded and swirled away, pulled out of the child by tendrils of magic.

  “Seventy-four…seventy-f-five…” The voice was starting to sound sleepy, and Leonore knew Lucy would fall asleep before she reached one hundred. The little hand had slipped and no longer really rested against where the pulse throbbed.

  Leonore’s magic found the last vestiges of the cancer, eviscerating it without mercy.

  “Eighty-three…” The voice trailed off and then stopped completely, and the hand fell back to the sheet. Lenore removed her own hand from Lucy’s chest and stepped back. The girl was sound asleep.

  She felt lightheaded. There had been so much cancer! But it had felt wonderful to destroy it. She took a few deep breaths and assessed her own strength. Not bad. It was a good thing she’d had such a powerful lover last night.

  Leonore looked down and arranged the collar of her jacket so that it mostly obscured the phony identification badge and stepped back to the door. Opening it, she peeked out into the hall to make sure there was no sign of returning parents. It had only been a few minutes, but something might have happened to delay or postpone their meeting. All clear.

  She took one look back at the sleeping child and noticed with satisfaction that her ivory cheeks were already looking a little pinker. Picking up the clipboard she had left on a bedside chair, Leonore stepped into the hall and walked briskly in the direction of the elevators. As she rounded the corner near the nurses’ station, she almost skidded to a halt.

  There, talking to the man and woman who had come out of Lucy’s room, stood…him. Her lover from the night before. Clad in scrubs and a white lab coat and wearing a stethoscope, he spoke earnestly to the couple she had seen coming out of the room when she first arrived.

  Oh my god, he’s Lucy’s doctor!

  And he was standing between her and the elevator.

  Abruptly, she made a U-turn and went back around the corner, feeling the heat rise into her face. I can’t let him see me here. Leonore especially did not want him to see her in the quasi lab coat with the fake ID badge. She could say she was visiting a patient, but not in her disguise, which would lead him to believe she had some connection to the hospital.

  Frantically, Leonore searched for a stairway. There it was, at the end of the hall. She picked up her pace, terrified he and the parents would be rounding the corner to visit Lucy’s room. As she got closer to the door, a sinking sensation gripped her stomach as she made out the sign—Emergency Exit Only. Alarm Will Sound. Shit!

  Afraid to make another U-turn, she noticed an open doorway to her right. A sign over the door said Visitors Lounge. She darted inside.

  The room was diagonally across the hall from Lucy’s, and had a television, a few comfortable-looking chairs, and a table with a partially completed jigsaw puzzle. At the moment, Leonore had it all to herself. She positioned herself so that she could just see the door to Lucy’s room, and caught her breath when Lucy’s parents, accompanied by her lover, entered the room only moments later.

  God, he’s gorgeous. And I hadn’t realized how tall he is. As soon as the thought popped into her mind, she chastised herself. It was no time to be thinking about that now. She needed to get out of here while he was busy with his patient.

  But they hadn’t closed the door. Surely they would all be facing the bed, not the open doorway.

  Not necessarily. Lucy would still be asleep. Maybe they wouldn’t want to wake her up, and would come right back out of the room again. If someone else would just come down the hall in the direc
tion of the elevators, she could walk alongside them, positioning herself so that they were between her and the open doorway to Lucy’s room.

  Any other time, the hall would be full of nurses, orderlies, doctors and visitors. But now that Leonore wanted someone to come, they wouldn’t. Oh well, she’d just have to gut it out.

  She looked down at her jacket, badge and clipboard. She hated to abandon them—the clipboard would be easy to replace, but it had been a lot of work making a badge that looked just right, and also finding a jacket in this style. She put the clipboard on a chair, removed the badge and slipped it into her pocket. The jacket she folded and tucked under her arm. If probably looked awkward, but it was better than wearing it. No one would stop her on the way out—it was only those arriving who were likely to come under scrutiny.

  Taking a deep breath, she headed for the door, but just as she stepped into the hall, four people almost ran into her on their way in.

  “Oh, excuse me,” said an elderly woman, and Leonore had to step sideways in order to let the group pass. They moved excruciatingly slowly.

  Finally they we out of her way, and she took a few brisk steps toward escape, turning her head away from Lucy’s room.

  And he stepped into the hall, directly in her path. She swerved, but was unable to avoid brushing his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention to—” He stopped, his eyes widening in recognition. “You! What on earth are you doing here?”

  “I’m-I’m dropping off some books. My book club donates books and-and sometimes we leave them in the waiting rooms.” Feeling ridiculous, Leonore gestured vaguely in the direction of the visitors lounge, then flushed when she realized she was using the hand that was carrying the incriminating jacket.

  He didn’t notice. His eyes were riveted on hers.