The Lost Saint(53)

“One of the unexpected guests decided to leave me with a special birthday present.” Talbot pulled up the bottom of his flannel shirt and showed me the large crescent-shaped scar that looked almost like a tattoo on his well-cut abs.

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Talbot lowered his shirt. “Gabriel is the one who should be sorry. He could have stopped those werewolves, but he didn’t. It would have meant getting his hands dirty. And his alpha, Sirhan, barely even punished the wolves that killed my parents. They deserve what’s going to happen to their pack when Sirhan dies.…” He pursed his lips and looked down at his feet.

“What happened to you after that?” I couldn’t imagine being so young and having your parents killed right in front you. He would’ve been only six months older than Baby James.

“I was sent to live with my grandfather on his farm. He was already caring for my mentally disabled cousin. Our grandfather used to fill the two of us with all these stories of the great Saint Moons. Demon fighters. Brave to the very end. Used to show us this old silver dagger. He died after a stroke when I was only thirteen, and that’s when I decided to carry on the legacy. Only I have an advantage over Simon and all the other Saint Moons—I’ve got superpowers. And unlike cowards like Gabriel, I use them.”

“Your cousin, the mentally disabled one, was he the only family you had left?”

Talbot nodded. “I couldn’t take care of him, and he couldn’t take care of me, even though he was a lot older. I haven’t seen him since the day our grandfather died. But we’re the last of the family.”

“No,” I said. “Don’s dead. I knew him, and he died ten months ago. But he’d wanted to be a hero like you.”

Talbot lowered his head, and his shoulders slumped. That was why he seemed strangely familiar. Even though none of their specific features were identical, there was still a family resemblance there—that familiarity that struck me so many times before—in the shape of his mouth, the tone of his voice, and the largeness of his hands. Talbot reminded me of a much younger, attractive, mentally and physically sound Don Mooney. There was even a slight resemblance to Gabriel—the two could also be cousins.

“That means you’re the last real Saint Moon,” I said.

Talbot bent down. He’d found his baseball cap. He scooped it up and put it on his head. “I’m going to check the rest of the house for bodies. I doubt those creatures were welcome houseguests of whoever used to live here.”

He started toward the stairs, then stopped and looked back at me. “You did a decent job here today. We’ve just got a lot to work on before we start thinking about going after the real gang.” He gave me a half smile. “We will find your brother. I promise.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Get to work on healing those marks on your face. I bet you can find a towel in one of the bathrooms and wash up a bit. I can’t take you back to the bus looking like that.”





A FEW MINUTES LATER




I found a small bathroom off the kitchen. Yellow rings stained the inside of the sink, and the mirror was cloudy and cracked. An old, stiff towel hung from a tarnished-brass towel ring. I pulled it from the metal loop and used the corner of it to clean a section of the mirror. I stared at the red-rimmed eyes of my reflection and then my pale face and disheveled hair. Red marks shaped like long-taloned fingers painted my neck where Mishka had grabbed me, and three angry, blistering burns welted my face from the Gelal’s acid blood.

I closed my eyes and concentrated. Tried to picture my wounds healing over like Daniel had taught me—tried to erase them with the power of my mind. But when I opened my eyes, my reflection appeared exactly the same. My ability to control my superhearing, speed, strength, and agility had increased tenfold since my breakthrough run on Sunday. But the healing power still eluded me. Yes, these wounds would probably heal on their own in a matter of hours—compared to weeks for a regular human—but I should be able to speed up the process even more. Make it take seconds rather than hours, if I concentrated enough.

I didn’t have hours to wait, so I closed my eyes and tried again. Healing had been the first power Daniel had developed as a kid—it was how he’d discovered that he had special abilities in the first place. But for some reason it was the hardest one for me. I opened my eyes and frowned at my unchanged appearance—then jumped at the sight of Talbot standing right behind me in the doorway. I gripped the counter to steady myself.

“I’m sorry,” Talbot said. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I was worried.…”

“I’m okay. I was just concentrating.”

“You better concentrate harder. We’ve got to get back to the bus, and you’re not healed up yet.”

“That’s because I don’t know how to do it.”

“Oh.” Talbot stepped into the tight room. Only two more steps and we’d be touching. I cursed my heart for beating faster. “I can help you,” he said.

“How?”

Talbot took one more step. Closer now. I watched his reflection in the mirror as he reached his hands out and brushed my hair back behind my ears. He cupped both of his hands on my face, pressing his palms into the burns on my cheeks. I winced and tried to pull away from his touch.