Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(40)

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THE MAN ASLEEP on the bed had been handsome once. The remnant of it lingered in his strong, haggard features, and in the gray and black hair that fell to the pillow. She thought she saw a shadow of what his son had looked like, and a hint of what his grandson might achieve one day.

She could sense Nicholas’s presence in the room, but he didn’t take visible form. Then she put all thought of him aside. It was time to focus on the reason why she was here.

She sat in the chair that had been pulled close to the bed. It was still warm from Jamie’s body. She leaned forward, took one of the sick man’s big weathered hands and cradled it between both of hers.

It was a strange, quiet examination. Not only was Jerry a complete stranger, but she realized that he was also the first human—not counting the drones—that she might use her newly recovered skills on.

She sent her awareness over the surface of his cool skin, then sank deep into his body. She explored his rangy, musculoskeletal frame and ran along pathways of his circulatory system with a reflexive pleasure even as she observed his symptoms, noted the lung damage from years of smoking and diagnosed severe pulmonary heart disease.

She sent small pulses of energy in targeted bursts to clear out the worst of the blockage she found in his pulmonary artery, and worked to strengthen the right ventricle even as she discovered answers to questions she had not thought to ask.

She sensed the difference between this man, who was purely human, and the forcefulness of spirit radiated by Michael, Astra and the Deceiver. The difference was like stepping out of a well-lit room into a sunny day. Both were powered with light, but the sun’s illumination was so much stronger.

Twenty minutes later, she finished what would have taken several hours of risky open-heart surgery. When she pulled her awareness out of his body, she discovered a shimmering, transparent presence kneeling at her side.

He needs to take things easy and eat a careful diet, but he is going to be fine now, she said to Nicholas. She smiled at him. And if he doesn’t stop smoking, I’m going to kick his ass.

The ghost turned to her. If there is anything I can ever do for you, call me and I will come.

She shook her head. You already came once without asking. And that’s not why I did this.

The blur of his strong, hawkish features seemed to flash with a smile. That is why I will come.

She felt enveloped in warm male energy and felt something against her skin, as if lips brushed across her cheek. She caught her breath and held it, raising a hand in wonder.

The presence melted away.

Smiling and tearful, she stood. She held on to the back of the chair as the room whirled. The psychic surgery had been relatively brief and controlled, but it had taken concentrated effort to manipulate the energy in such a way that it would promote healing without damaging an already faltering, delicate system.

After the fact, she felt distant from everything, as if she were surrounded by bullet-riddled glass. She was lightheaded from too many powerful, unresolved emotions. All she wanted to do was to lay her head down on something dry and stationary.

Astra was wiping off the kitchen counters when she walked out of the bedroom. The old woman’s face was grim, her wrinkled mouth pursed tight. “How’d it go?”

She said, “I am a goddess without compare. Nubile young men should lay flowers and chocolates and large monetary contributions at my feet.”

A startled smile broke over Astra’s face. “Really?”

“He was dying, but I’m sure you already knew that. He needs more rest and a careful diet. I want to examine him again to see if he needs more work, but for now he’ll do.” She staggered, and Astra hurried over to put an arm around her waist. Her breath hitched. “Okay, I need to lie down now.”

“Come on, you’ll rest more comfortably if we get you clean first.”

Her mind shut down and she let herself be bullied by Astra, who ran her a hot, deep bath, sprinkled with rose-scented bubble bath, and made her strip off the poncho and her underwear and climb into the tub.

Then Astra knelt by the tub, unraveled her tangled braid and helped wash her hair. Afterward Astra brushed out the unruly tangles while Mary rested in the liquid warmth.

Tears prickled at the back of her eyes at the old woman’s gentle touch. The kindness touched all the raw places in her soul. She was so bone weary. She had been beyond terrified too many times over the last couple of days, and she had seen good people die, and she mourned Justin, and she wished Nicholas hadn’t been murdered, and she had hurt Michael’s feelings.

She said, “I need to talk to Michael.”

“Not until after you’ve both had a chance to rest.”

She opened her eyes and looked at Astra, who sighed. “I will tell him that you wanted to talk, but I put my foot down. How’s that?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

When Astra was through with her hair, she wrapped it in a towel and left the bathroom so Mary could finish washing in privacy, returning a few minutes later with a simple cotton nightgown, a new toothbrush still in its wrapper and a clean pair of cotton socks.

“I used to get visitors like Jerry and Jamie from all over,” Astra said when Mary asked about the toothbrush. “I’ve had friends among the Potawatomi, the Shawnee and the Ojibwa nations. I don’t have your spectacular gift for healing, but I do have some small talent. Those visitors have fallen off in this generation, but sometimes Jerry will still bring someone by who needs help, so I’ve learned to keep a few things handy.”