Healer (The Healer Series) (3 page)

I don’t even realize I’ve dropped my items until I hear them hit the floor. The gunman snaps the gun in my direction and our eyes lock. Running should be my first reaction, but in the brief moment our eyes meet, I recognize something.
The panic of the moment shifts briefly as I stare at him, and question him with my eyes, “
Do I know you?”

His eyes dart to the side
awkwardly, then back to me. His jaw tenses and he raises his arm to level the gun in his hand to my face.

I squint as if this
will help me remember where I’ve seen him before and just as I feel like I’m on the verge of figuring it out a shot sounds off. The gunman falls to the ground like a ton of bricks.

My amygdala must be on
a smoke break because that felt like it happened in the blink of an eye.

The cashier
holds a shotgun with trembling hands, his face white as snow, sweat glistening on his forehead. The shotgun must have been hidden under the counter.

I quickly k
ick the hand gun away from the gunman and it skids across the brown tiled floor. The gunman’s eyes are closed and he appears to be unconscious.

The cashier’s chest heaves up and down, but he remains still as stone, frozen in shock.

“Call 911
!” I yell.

My voice seems to unthaw him because he
drops the gun and limps behind the counter, mumbling words I don’t understand.

The odd woman
with pale skin watches me, still holding the same magazine, but makes no movement to help.

I quickly assess the room
, trying to determine who is hurt worse. Obviously the gunman is hurt worse, but I decide the cashier who saved my ass a minute ago will get my attention first. I run behind the counter, remove the cashier’s belt, and wrap it around his thigh tightly. His leg is drenched in blood, but using the belt as a tourniquet seems to slow down the bleeding. “Hold this tight!” I yell at him while he speaks in broken English on the phone with the dispatcher. He nods, pulls at the belt and leans against the counter.

I run back to the
man on the floor. A puddle of blood has pooled around him and his energy is slipping away. There is no one in the store I can pull energy from other than Miss Vogue who still hasn’t moved a muscle to help me. “Can you help me?” I shout to her.

S
he still doesn’t move. Instead, her lips twitch into a smirk.
Why is she smiling?

I turn the man on his side so I can pull his jacket off to see how bad
ly he is hurt. “Help me, please!” I shout to the lady holding the magazine. I try to connect to her, but there is nothing there.

The Asian man
yells on the phone, his voice becoming less animated. He will be no help to me.

I
glance back to the woman and cast the line of my proverbial energy fishing line, praying to connect to her, but I get nothing.

The gun
man pulls my face down to his, whispers in my ear and releases me. 

Suddenly, a sharp pain, like a knife stabbing me
in my head, hits me, but disappears in seconds. I blink until my vision returns and look down at the man. I stare at him, confused by his words,
“It’s time to go home.”
 

He gazes
up at me through half closed lids, and nods once, as if confirming that I heard him correctly.

I wa
nt to ask him what he means, when his eyes flutter shut again, and I realize he’s about to die. I slap him hard across the face, hoping to awaken him, leaving a bloodied hand print on his cheek. But nothing happens. I stare at my blood covered hands. I’ve never seen this much blood before. I’m surprised I’m not disgusted by it. In fact, I’m actually intrigued. The gunman’s energy suddenly plummets and I’m snapped out of my train of thought, and kicked back into the here and now. To save the gunman, I will have to do what I was told never to do. I will have to use my own energy. I place my hands on his face and push all of my energy into him. This will only be enough to keep him alive until he reaches the hospital, where hopefully the doctors can save him.

His pulse increases as the stra
nge woman that wouldn’t help me walks out of the door. Dizziness swarms my head as I push my energy into the gunman. Police sirens blare in the background. A moment later, everything goes black.

***

“Foolish.” Lucy sits beside my bed shaking her head as she knits. Her short, grey hair is held back with a headband. Her clear wrinkle-free face focuses on her hands.

I glance aro
und, taking in the surroundings, and I know I’m dreaming because I’m in the room I had when I was twelve and we lived in Philadelphia. The purple bedspread I had for years growing up covers the bed, and my ‘N Sync poster hangs on the back of the door.

“Yeah, I know,
” I reply half asleep. “What was I supposed to do? Let him die?”

“Well, he was going to kill you until the cashier stopped him.”

“I had to save him. You know that.”

“Right
,” she snorts, as if she’s disgusted with my reply.

I watch her for a moment. Something is off about her. She is not the comforting version of my aunt that my subconscious usually provides for me.  “So what now, Aldo?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you saved him for a reason. What now?”

“I saved him because I had to
.” I shrug.

“You knew he was
going to die. Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” She shoots me a warning look.

“Something about him seemed familiar. Like maybe I knew him.” 

“That’s not possible.”

“He saw it in my eyes that I recognized him. I can’t place where I know him from, but I do.” I roll on my stomach and watch her.

“You think you recognize everyone,” she says annoyed.

I stare at her.
My subconscious is way off tonight. That doesn’t sound like something Lucy would say to me. “He told me
it’s time to go home
.” I repeat what the man whispered in my ear.

“I think he’s right.”

“Maybe he wasn’t talking about me.”

“Maybe he was.”

“How would he know anything about me?” I retort.

“Death makes us see things we may never see under normal circumstances.”
That definitely sounds like something she would say.

“I think he was talking about going to heaven
, Lucy, not me.”

“I think
that’s what you want to think, not what he really meant.”

“I think we should drop this conversation.” I roll back over on my back and stare up at the ceiling.
The last thing I need is Lucy or my subconscious posed as Lucy, lecturing me right now. I can’t help but wonder if she’s right, though. Were the gunman’s words meant for me?

“I can’t believe you used your energy.”

“I had to save him.”

“Did you now?” She patronizes me. “Why don’t you wear a big fucking sign so that they will find you?”

I stare at her, shocked for a moment. My subconscious is definitely not playing an accurate version of my aunt. Lucy never cursed. Not even so much as a crap or even one of those cute little words people replace real curse words with like fudge or sugar.

“Lucy, let’s not fight
, please?”

“Hmmm.”
She still doesn’t look up from her knitting.

I stand up, stretch
, and walk to the information wall. I create this in my subconscious to sort out information. Sometimes it’s a bulletin board. There is a picture of the man I tried to save and the strange woman from the store. Her face was so cold. I can still see her smirk as she watched the man dying in front of her. I know what she is now, even though I didn’t touch her.

I focus hard and try to separate the gunman’s information from the
rest, but I find nothing. I dig through my mind and hope I can at least find a name, but I still get nothing. “I can’t figure out his name. It’s like he blocked me from it,” I whisper to myself.

“What is her name?” Lucy asks, still staring at her knitting.

I focus, but there’s nothing. “I didn’t get that either.”

“So why is she on the wall?” Lucy asks.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get to touch her.” I turn to see if her expression has changed. Her head shifts slightly, but she doesn’t look up.

“She had no energy,” s
he states rather than asks.

“
She was pretty far away from me. Maybe I couldn’t connect to her because I couldn’t reach her.” I know the woman had no energy, but I would rather not discuss it with Lucy, especially tonight when she is acting so strange.

“They found you.” Lucy sighs and throws her knitting into a brown
carpet bag beside her chair. It’s a knot. She hasn’t knitted a thing, just twisted the yarn into a tiny tangled ball.

“You think so?” I hope Lucy doesn’t detect the excitement in my voice.

“You are a fool.” Lucy raises her voice slightly.

“Lucy, please, not now.”

“You’ve been doing jobs for people you meet on the street. Not by trusted referral.” She walks towards me.

“Lucy, how can I get referrals if I don’t know anybody? I’m undercover here.” I turn away from her, trying to calm myself.

“Why are you working in that place? If you are healing anyway, when you shouldn’t be, why work there?”

“You know why, Lucy.”

“I can’t stand the thought of you stripping, Aldo. It makes me ill.”

“It won’t be forever.” I place my hand on her shoulder
, trying to reassure her.

“You are wasting your time”

“I have to find him.”

“He is dead!”

“He’s not! I would feel it!” I wipe the rogue tear from my cheek.

“What makes you think that?
”

“I just would.”

“Even if he is alive, he obviously doesn’t want you to find him.” Lucy looks away, as if she knows the emotion this will bring out of me.

“I still have to.”

“Why?”

“You know why!”

“No I don’t. Tell me.”

“Why are you being this way?”

“What way?”

“Argumentative.”

She grabs my arms and shakes me. “Because I love you!” She stares at me and I’m suddenly aware that Lucy’s eyes are different. They are dark and filled with something I can’t quite recognize. Something raw and deep. She releases me quickly and turns.

I rub my arms and stare at her in stunned silence.

“Please go home. Right now. Go home to your brothers,” she begs, still turned away from me.

“I can’t.”

“Well, I have to go.” She shakes her head like she’s frustrated.

“I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“Aldo, come on. This is your inner turmoil. I’m just the face you have chosen to argue it out with.”

“I know.”

“
Aldo. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. It’s time to wake up.” She vanishes right before my eyes and then there is darkness again.

.

three

Past

It didn’t take long for sleep to find me that night. Had I not been so exhausted from healing the young girl, my excitement to find out more information about Thomas may have prevented me from falling asleep.

Thomas knew I was a healer. I couldn’t have denied it at that point. What he didn’t know, is the moment he touched me, I absorbed information from him. Of course, I wouldn’t know what information I absorbed from him until I fell asleep.

I
was out as soon as my head hit the pillow, and the darkness of my subconscious quickly transitioned into a field. The land went on forever, covered with waist-high red and purple wild flowers, leading into a sky of the most picturesque, beautiful shade of blue. I stole this scene from Montana. We lived there briefly when I was thirteen. A light breeze brushed against my long brown hair and the sun kissed my skin. I wore a baby blue sundress – why was I so dressed up?

Why would I want to look nice?

I pondered this a moment, but my train of thought was interrupted when I caught something in my peripheral vision. My stomach dropped and heat rose to my cheeks at the sight of him. Shock consumed me. I often created someone in my subconscious to help me sort through information, but usually it was either Lucy or one of my brothers. I couldn’t believe I had created Thomas to help me.

He wore the
same clothes, faded jeans and a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was dark and a little shaggy, and his skin olive toned.

My mouth
went dry as his gaze met mine and my heart did a back flip. We stood, locked in a silent stare, both refusing to be the first to look away, as if whoever broke first lost the power. Finally, he spoke.

“Hey there
, Killer,” he smirked.

“Hey yourself.”
I nodded.

“
Nice dress.”

Heat flamed my cheeks
and I turned away from him, embarrassed because it was my own subconscious complimenting me.

“I didn’t get your last name earlier.” I tried to change the subject and find out what information I had absorbed from him.

“Watson.”

“So, you’re a healer?” I turned back to face him.

“Yes, and so are you.”

I nodded.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” He glanced
at the ground behind him and back at me.

“Uh, no,” I replied, thrown again. I waved my hand and created a chair behind him. He turned a
nd looked back to me surprised. “Sit.” I motioned. “Tell me about yourself, Thomas.”

His eyes widened as if
shocked, but he quickly transitioned. After taking his seat, he asked with a slight smile, “What would you like to know?”

“Everything.”

“I’m a healer. What else is there to tell?”
He glanced around the field as he spoke.

“Do you know others like us?”
I stepped towards him.

“My brother.”

“What’s his name?”

“It’s not important.”

I glared at him. “It is.” I tried to tell my subconscious to stop playing games.

His eyes immediately met mine
. I wasn’t sure if he looked annoyed or impressed by my persistence. “Lucas.” He went back to inspecting our surroundings.

“Anyone else?”

“No.” He shrugged.

“Where is your brother?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

I was thrown by this as well. Why was my subconscious being difficult?

“How long have you lived here?”
I pressed on.

“Not long. We move a lot.”

“Why?” I asked curious as to what he would say.

“You look young,” h
e observed, changing the subject.

“Do I?”

He laughed under his breath. “Tell me, do you move a lot, Aldo?”

I couldn’t help, but enjoy the sound of my name coming out of his mouth. “Yes,” I replied after I regained my train of thought.

“You move a lot to keep from being found, right?”

I nodded.

“You’ve never asked yourself from what?” His expression took on a look of pity as in,
how could you be so stupid as to not know what you are hiding from
.

I thought about this for a second. Lucy always said we had to keep moving so we wouldn’t be found, but she never said from what. My heart
beat increased. Thomas noticed too. He glanced slightly to the right as if he heard something.

As healers, we can tell when people begin to panic because their energy surges. My brothers and I were taught not to react to this. It exposes healers for what they are. I had never had this happen in a dream because usually the person I am using to work through information with is someone I know well a
nd trust. In this case, I didn’t know Thomas.

I wal
ked to my board of points, where a picture of Thomas, a picture of what I assumed was his brother, and a black picture hung. Sometimes when I retain information, a black picture appears which indicates the information is something I don’t want to know or that my subconscious is having a hard time deciphering it. As I contemplated the black picture, Thomas joined me. His proximity to me was alarming. I felt a draw, almost magnetic, pulling me towards him.

“That’s my brother.” He
pointed and stared at the picture confused.

“I know.”
Why was my subconscious stating the obvious?

“How?”
He stuffed his hands back in his pockets, still staring at the board. He shifted slightly and stared at the ground, lost in thought for a moment, before he raised his head. “Which one do you think is better looking?” He nodded towards the pictures of himself and his brother.

“Your br
other,” I lied.

“Ouch.” He
produced a panty-dropping smile that made my knees buckle.

Focus
, Aldo.

“Okay, I get all of this information now, but what have you given me here?” I spoke more to myself t
han to Thomas as I motioned my hand around the black photo.

“Given you?”
His brow furrowed as if confused.

“Yes, you are only here to help me figure out the information I
took from you.” I said annoyed at having to explain it to him as if he were real.

“So that’s how you have his image?” he asked, as if he just figured out a riddle. “You got it thro
ugh my energy, right?” He grinned, as if proud of himself for figuring it out.

“So what’s the black?”

“Hmmm.” His mouth curved slightly and he took a few steps back still staring at the board. “I tell you what. Meet me at Casa Grande at five o’clock tomorrow. It’s that Mexican restaurant on Elm Street.” He turned away from the board, towards the open field.

I laughed a little at my own subconscious. “Sure, see you there.” I waved.
Now my subconscious wants to go out for Mexican.

“Just be there at five.” He turned back briefly and winked.
As he walked away, his image dissolved. What had just happened? I knew I brought him there. Had I somehow obtained information that he would be at Casa Grande and invited myself? Suddenly, it hit me.

I fell to my knees. What an idiot I was. Thomas was in my dream not because I brought him there, but because he was actually there.

But that’s impossible.

The scene of my subconscious
blurred as dizziness engulfed me. How could that be? Lucy never told me people could do that. The image of the field and the board disappeared, leaving me in darkness.

After
a couple of deep breaths, I forced myself up and began walking through what appeared to be a dark abyss, until a dim red light appeared in the distance. I reached the light to find a large man leaning over a woman lying on the ground. At first, I thought he was kissing her, but as I got closer, I realized he was nuzzling her neck. The woman was pale and her eyes were filled with defeat, lost in some distant place as if she had given up and succumbed to this man.

Chill bumps covered my skin and every hair on my body stood on
end, but I stepped closer, needing to see.

“What are you doing?” I asked, but the man didn’t look up.
A moment later the woman’s eyelids fluttered just before they closed. “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I pulled his shoulder back. He flipped around and hissed at me. Dark eyes blazed with fierce rage fixated on me, but it was his face that made my blood run cold; porcelain white skin covered in red.  My gaze fell to the woman, and I stumbled back. Her silk blouse clung to her body covered in blood.

When I looked up, I
saw Thomas. He stood on the other side of the woman holding a baby, staring down at her. I moved to step towards him, but the scene vanished almost as soon as I saw him and I was back in my field. My board appeared then, but the black picture was gone. In its place appeared one word.
Vampire.