The Savage Grace: A Dark Divine Novel(64)

Dad hugged me back. “Of course I’m alive. But what happened? Why am I here?”

Before I could answer his question, I heard the woosh of the sliding-glass door and an army of nurses swarmed into the room. “What’s going on here?” one of them shouted at me.

“Get away from him,” another nurse shouted, but then she stopped suddenly, staring at my father sitting up in his bed, looking perfectly healthy and uninjured.

She whispered something in what sounded like Spanish and made the sign of the cross in front of her chest and forehead. She went on in the language I didn’t quite understand, but I did catch something.

“A miracle,” she said. “It’s a miracle.”





Chapter Twenty-five


WORLDS COLLIDED


THURSDAY MORNING

You’d think a miracle would be cause for rejoicing in the ICU. Instead, it brought on a barrage of questions for me and several not-pleasant-looking tests and scans for my father. The successful power transfer had left me completely drained of all energy, and Daniel and I spent the next several hours curled up in one of the waiting room sofas, drifting in and out of sleep.

I guess the nurse at the front desk decided to let us stay longer than twenty minutes, considering the circumstances, because it was just after seven in the morning when my father announced that he wanted to go home.

“I’d prefer to keep you here for observation,” the doctor, who had been pouring over lab results for the last hour, said to Dad. “Perhaps run a few more tests.”

“No more tests.” Dad groaned. “I feel like a pincushion.”

The doctor looked at the chart one more time. “We can’t find anything wrong with you, which means we can’t keep you here if you want to go. But I don’t advise it.…”

Dad pulled the heart-rate monitor from his finger. “You heard the woman, Grace. They can’t keep me here.”

Under normal circumstances, I would have protested Dad doing anything against his doctor’s advice, but in this case I knew more about his condition than anyone else in the hospital would be able to determine.

Daniel steadied me in his arms as I stood—my body was still a bit unstable and weak from the power transfer—and I took my father’s hand. “Let’s go home,” I said, feeling more joy at that moment than I’d thought possible a few days ago.

“There’s one more thing I want you to do before we leave,” Dad said as we approached the elevators. He reached out and pushed the Up button instead of the Down. I knew immediately what it was that he wanted.

“Dad?” I looked up at him. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can do it, Gracie. You and Daniel healed me, so why can’t you do the same for your mother?”

“I don’t even know if my powers would work on someone like Mom.” So far, I’d only known the power to work on physical injuries. I had no idea if it had any effect on mental illness. For some reason, that just felt different. “And, I mean, what if Mom is the way she is because that’s God’s will for her?”

“Then I imagine it won’t work if God doesn’t want it to.” Whenever Dad led a prayer circle for someone ill at the parish, he’d always qualify his pleadings to God for that person’s restoration of health with “if it be Thy will.” Dad gave me a reassuring smile as the elevator doors dinged open. “Why would God have granted you this power if he didn’t want you to use it?”

Daniel took my hand, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s worth a try, Grace.”

I looked between Daniel and my father, taking in the hope that brightened their eyes. If we could do this, it suddenly opened up so many possibilities. The things we could do … The people we could help…

“Okay,” I said. I stepped inside the elevator with them, knowing that from this moment on, my life might never be the same again.

THURSDAY EVENING, ABOUT TEN HOURS LATER

I awoke to a mixture of sounds and smells so familiar and pleasant, yet strange and out of place from my current life, that it made my head swim. Little stars danced in front of my eyes as I sat up. I recognized the coral color of my sheets as my eyes focused, and I sighed with relief, knowing I was in my own bed. At home. But I had no idea how I’d gotten here. Couldn’t remember anything except a vague recollection of getting into an elevator with my father and Daniel.

But where were they now?

A chorus of laughter sounded from the main floor of the house, answering my question.

I drew in a deep breath and sifted out the smells that permeated the air of my bedroom. Bacon. Eggs. Pancakes. And the sweet smell of maple syrup being heated over the stove.

Someone was cooking.

No one had cooked in this house since Mom had gone away.

More laughter drifted up the stairs and down the hall into my bedroom. There were too many voices mixed in the chorus for it to just be Daniel and my father. I breathed in again, and caught another now-familiar, underlying scent in the air—that of a dog who’s been lying out in the sun, mixed with the distinct scent of boy. There were werewolves in this house. And not just Daniel. Based on the smell, there were several just down the stairs.

Despite the effort it took just to keep my weak, aching body sitting upright, curiosity got the better of me. Not to mention the gnawing sensation in my stomach triggered by the smell of so much food. When was the last time I’d actually eaten? I dragged myself out of bed, slowly changed into fresh clothes, and tiptoed my way down the stairs—only to find the dining room bursting with people and food.