Wicked Sense (39 page)

Boulder and Sean call
from Eugene to check on me. Their families are okay
,
but they are coming back anyway.

I realize there’s nobody else I need to
contact
. Or that needs to call me. The Hunters are a small, isolated family. When bad things happen, I feel even lonelier.

The atmosphere in the waiting areas of the hospital is one of solidarity, though. The common cause to our misfortunes brings us together, and we share the apprehension about
our close ones
.

Some people
look
more anxious than
others
. A lady can’t stop crying
, but
five or six people surround her—maybe her family
. A big guy about my age seems shell-shocked, tentative,
looking completely out of place next to the elevators.

Suddenly he stiffens up and looks at the elevator doors.
His sudden reaction makes me follow his gaze. W
hen the
doors open
,
Skye is inside, looking straight at the guy
. She has
a glint of recognition
in
her
eyes
.

Before I leave, I call Priscilla. We assure each other we’re okay. I tell her about Mona, and she asks me to send her best wishes to Drake. I end the call and drive to the hospital.

The parking lot is full, but I squeeze Drake’s Volvo between two SUVs
. As I’m leaving the car, I sense the tingling.
A
Sister
is
around
.

Judging by the low intensity, it’s somewhere in the hospital. I
get in the elevator with other people.
As we move up, the tingling intensifies.

It’s odd. I felt it before, every time Judi and Mum were together close to me. It’s coming from two sources
upstairs
. And increasing.

The elevator door opens. After
everybody
leave
s
, I see
Connor
staring at me
from
the waiting room.

When the doors begin to
move
again, I
come
out of my stupor, and extend my arm to stop the
m
from
closing. I get out and march to
Connor
.

He doesn’t even let me ask. “Jane listed me as her emergency contact. I didn’t even know about it.”

“What happened to her?” I ask. A myriad of questions swirl in my mind. Is this another one of Jane’s ploys? Is she here because of our break-in? Is
Connor
with her?

Now
, why would the last one come to
mind
?

“
Motorbike
accident. Apparently she was riding when the quake hit,” he says.

I nod, trying to
piece
the puzzle together in my head.

“Did you see her?”

“I did, but she’s unconscious.
The doctors didn’t see anything too worrisome in their tests. But she has a few bruises, even cuts
on her face
. S
he doesn’t look good.”

Goddess, the guilt is sudden and overwhelming. Yes, she tried to kill me, amongst other lesser attacks. Still, it’s not like I want to kill her. I
did
want to harm her at her house, and self-defense was only an excuse then.
I’ll never tell
Connor
I’ve been there. I don’t want him judging me, or reporting me to the Mothers.

Once again, I feel this is going too far.
It
wasn’t supposed to
go
like this.

“Are you kidding me?” Drake’s voice behind me makes me jump out of my skin.

“Drake!” I say. “I…
” I point to me.
“
Connor
…”
I say, pointing to my ex.
It’s too much to process, and I sound stupid.

“I’ve been listening to you two for a while,” Drake says with a menacing tone totally not his own. He turns to
Connor
. “So, you’re the English muffin? The idiot who cannot control Jane?”

Connor is unfazed by Drake’s barbs. His eyes dart between Drake and me.

“Excuse us
,” Drake
says to Connor. “I need to talk to Skye.”
When Connor doesn’t move, Drake yells, “
Now!”

The waiting room crowd glances at our group. Connor,
ever the Veil protector,
looks
around nervously and walks
to the nurse’s station.

The thoughts in my h
ead are a little more organized
now. “Listen, Drake,” I say, “I didn’t know he was here.” I have no idea why I feel compelled to explain it to Drake. It’s
not like I did something wrong
.

“I’ve heard you. I saw you. I know you were both surprised,” Drake says, calmer now.

“Are we okay?”

For a moment he seems
about to lose it
, but he sighs deeply
. His voice is bitter.
“No, Skye. We’re not okay. I’m not.
Mona isn’t either.
I could
n’
t protect my sister. I can’t protect you. And everything is conspiring to
pull
you and that… guy
together. Oh, yeah, and the witch thing.”

Connor
is coming back to us.
He clearly
over
heard Drake.

“You broke the Veil?”
Connor
whispers to
me
, sizing Drake up
.

Drake steps in. “
I
broke it, fish-and-chips. As you three just prove over and over, you witches are not that smart.”

Connor
must have
Teflon ears, because his priority is clear. “Lower your
bloody voice
,” he
says in a
growl
.

“I need to see
Jane
,” I say.

This
finally breaks their staring contest.

“What?” Drake asks.

“Why?”
Connor
asks.

“I just need to do it.”
My eyes seek Drake’s approval
.

“Is it about the search?”
Connor
whispers.

“Does it matter?” I say.

***

Somehow
Connor
agrees, and somehow he makes
the staff let me visit Jane
(
his Trust Charm is handy)
in her
private room.

The tingling is intense so close to her.

Does she feel my presence? Even when I’m sleeping, I can sense the physical sensation if a Sister is ne
arby, but the tingling might not
bother witches that don’t possess True Sight. Mum and I have rooms away from each other in part because I can’t sleep with her magical en
ergy so close to me, but she has
no problem
with mine
. Sleeping
next
to
Connor
was equally impossible.

I shake the thought
from my mind
.

I stay by the door,
hesitant
. Afraid of
seeing
what permanent damage my attack caused to her good looks. Guilty about unhinging her so thoroughly that she crashed her bike.

And yes, I’m concerned that she’d snap out of her coma and attack me, Carrie-style.

I get closer to her bed.
She’s still, breathing with no help from machines.
A
blanket
cove
r
s her
, except for
the
arms.
I see d
eep red and black wounds on her left forearm and elbow.

When I’m close, I dare to look at her face. There it is.

Her left cheek has two big gashes where I hit her with the flask. Several minor cuts adorn her once
lovely
face. All of them caused by me.

I expected a serene
look
, but her eyebrows are wrinkle
d
with a crease of concern. Even
when she’s
blacked out, Jane’s
personality
surfaces on her harsh expression.

It doesn’t stop me
from
, i
n a kindhearted moment, touch
ing
her face tenderly with the back of my hand. I feel for her.

I caress her face with my fingertips. I want her to feel it
, to know
that she’s not alone. That we call each other Sisters for a reason.

My hand stops at those two big gashes. The rough tactile sensation of the
wounds
makes me sad.
Her face is ruined.

Then I see tiny
green
sparkles coming off my fingertips.
A
small
, visible electric current flow
s
from my hand
to Jane’s face.

Startled,
I withdraw my hand
. I’m not sure of what I just saw.

It had no effect on Jane’s sleep.
The
wound
s
on her face
, though, glow
a light pink.

What is that? I dare to
reach
my hand
out
again, mimicking
its
previous position.

There it is, the electric current. It
begins
with tiny sparkles, but as I leave my hand
over the wound
, the flow increases. Not much. It reaches a stable stream.

The scabs turn a darker shade of pink and start to vanish. Fascinated, I put my hand over her other cuts. Soon they disappear.

The scabs are gone now, and the two sides of one of the gashes
slowly
close the cut’s gap, creating new flesh, new skin out of the green stream of magic.

Yes, magic. What else could it be?

But it wasn’t supposed to work like that. It’s never visible.

And I’m sure I don’t have a
H
ealing
Charm.

Nevertheless, I let Jane use my magical energy to heal herself.
She
is doing this.
But
I let her.

I owe
it to
her.

The second big gash is gone. Her face is perfect. Out of curiosity, I still leave my hands close to her face. The green flow is steadfast.

Color comes to her face. I look closer. A very thin patch of facial hair over her lips disappears.

I remove my hands in horror. I realize what is going on.

I rush to the bathroom and
look at
my reflection
i
n the mirror. Only it’s not me I see. Or, rather, it’s not the prom queen version of me.

What I see is what I
should have
looked like all my life. Not gorgeous, no-imperfections-Skye. The real Skye. A plain
British
girl.

Jane has just
stolen
my Allure Charm.

Mr. Darcy and I are waiting for Skye. At least we’re
o
n opposites sides of t
he waiting room. I’m not that
modern of a boyfriend.

I should stop calling him Mr. Darcy. It’s a bad omen. Mr. Darcy
always
gets the girl.

The jerk suddenly looks
around, confused. His eyes stop on me, but after a while, he goes to the
patient’s room area.

He’s not beating me up there. He probably wants to talk to Skye alone. I start to move, but my cell dings.
Frowny
faces look at me; I forgot to turn it off. It’s Skye.

“Take the elevator and come
down to
meet me,
” she says in a rushed voice. “
I’m at P2, waiting for you. Don’t ask.”

I’ve been through enough with Skye. I know that if she could, she
would have
said more. I do as told.
The
English dude doesn’t
notice
me sneaking out.