"I'll explain later. Can you come over here?"

Without questioning my motives, Jonas said, "Sure," and hung up the phone. He arrived thirty minutes later, and he drove like a bat out of h.e.l.l to do so. Once again wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sungla.s.ses to hide his amber eyes, Jonas found me standing outside the front door to the hospital. I hid myself from prying eyes, manipulating minds to keep myself from being seen. No one saw me pacing a rut in the concrete before the front door. No one, but Jonas.

He grabbed my shoulders and brought me to him. "You scared the life out of me," he said.

"Sorry," I said, kissing his lips with all the vigor I could muster. "This was your idea."

"Whaddya mean?" he asked, grasping my chin in his hand so he could get a good look at my face.

"You wanted me to get a job here," I said.

He saw right through me, and for that I was grateful. I didn't have to explain anything to him. "Okay," he said. "Who is it?"

"A little girl," I said. "I just want you to help me get out safely."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Jonas," I said. "I'm sure. But just her. No one else."

He raised that brow ridge at me. "Just one?"

"Just one."

Without another word, I led him inside, keeping him out of all the minds we came across. Jonas was hard enough to explain on a normal day. I'm sure every doctor in the hospital would have loved to have gotten their hands on him. Or me, for that matter.

"This one," I said to Jonas as I stopped outside of a room. "Take a look."

"Is it safe?" he asked.

I nodded. He knew what I could do with the minds of others. "n.o.body will see you. Or me."

Jonas peered into the room.

The girl was asleep in her bed. Her eyelids were sunken and purple, and her breathing shallow. Her parents were there, talking to a lone doctor, who explained the details of her illness to them, telling them these would be her final days. Her mother stood locked safely in her husband's arms. The woman's head was buried in the man's shoulder. She was crying.

"I'll make them go away," I whispered to Jonas. I reached into the father's mind and told him he needed to go make a phone call to his sister, the little girl's aunt. The family needed to be told this was the end for their Sarai. The doctor said he would leave them be and all three exited the room together. When they were gone, the doctor to another room and the father and mother to the nearest elevator, I looked at Jonas. "Come on."

He followed me into the room without a word.

She was once beautiful, little Sarai. She was now pale with dark eyelids and faintly blue lips. Her body was thin, and I could see the bones of her wrists protruding from beneath her skin. I sat on the edge of the bed while Jonas guarded the door, and I took one of those tiny wrists in my hand. Though her mind was a jumble of childish dreams and horrible nightmares, I picked through it.

What I saw in her mind broke my heart. Sarai never went to school but wanted to go. She had not learned to ride a bicycle without the training wheels but wanted to. Her parents gave her a yappy (my description, not hers) Pomeranian dog called Peanut whom she wanted to go home and play with, but she couldn't. In many ways, she knew she was dying. n.o.body told her this. She just knew. Her mind was aware of what happened to her body. Yet she still dreamed of a sunny day, green gra.s.s, and a small, yellow dog nipping at her heels.

It wasn't right.

It wasn't fair.

Alendra asked me if I had faith, and I said no. This was why. I didn't lie to her when I said I'd seen reasonable men kill innocent children. I once saw a little girl's head blown off by a policeman's bullet. Though his panicked mind couldn't see a little girl running at him, but an adult male, he still killed her. He shot her in the temple and took her life. His mind justified it by making her look like a young man. He murdered a child, took her life in a heartbeat. Without thought, I took his. That little girl was ten. h.e.l.l, I was twelve at the time. I got that particular little girl into that situation, and it was my fault she died. I won't deny that. Looking at this other little girl, this Sarai, I knew I'd come to make amends for what I did all those years ago, when I got my friend murdered and killed a cop in return.

Holding Sarai's hand in mine, I delved deep into her melting brain. The tumor was large, about the size of a golf ball. It affected the proper functioning of her brain, shutting down all her organs, and it would soon kill her. I took that away. It took all my effort to eliminate that tumor from a little girl, but I did. I closed my eyes and put my hands and brain to work. I focused all my energy on the one spot destroying her, and I cured her. Healed her.

When I opened my eyes, she looked up at me with deep blue pools of light. I swallowed against the darkness threatening to swallow me whole only because I wanted to hear her voice.

"Are you an angel?" she asked me, her voice high and sweet.

I shook my heavy head, but found myself saying, "Yes. I'm an angel sent from G.o.d, from heaven. I was sent to help you. And now I have." My voice sounded to me like pudding mixed with mud, but I managed to get the words out.

Then I heard voices coming down the hall. Had it taken me that long so her parents were already on their way back? My mind told me yes. My body said rest. I felt my eyes roll back into my head then Jonas was there, his steady hands on my shoulders.

"Come on," he said, knowing I was falling into the abyss.

I couldn't move, so he put his hands under my arms and hoisted me up. I heard the little girl's voice once more saying, "Angel, don't go." Jonas scooped me up into his arms and took me away.

He walked calmly down the hospital hallways with me in his arms. My hands clasped loosely at the base of his neck. My head lolled against his chest. He was stopped only once, and though I couldn't quite block him from sight, I did my best to make him look normal in the nurse's eyes. He only said, "Her mother just died. I'm taking her to get some air." The nurse left us alone.

Outside, where the fresh air did only a bit to revive me, Jonas stormed to his truck, opened the pa.s.senger side door with one adept hand and deposited me inside. I heard him sit down heavily in his seat and slam his door. Then his hand was gently against my cheek, and he was shaking me.

"I'm here," I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice. I slowly opened my eyes to see his worried face staring back at me. I sat up a bit straighter to make it seem like I really was okay. "I'm okay," I said.

"Geez, Chris," he said. "Do you always have to go about scaring me to death?"

"Sorry," I said.

Jonas started up the truck and pulled out of his parking s.p.a.ce, eager to get as far away from the hospital as he could. I didn't blame him. Those parents would walk into their daughter's room to find her perfectly healthy. They'd walk into what my father would call a miracle. I simply called it doing what was right.

I did what I thought was right in curing Sarai.

I did the only thing I know how to do. I healed her. I helped her. I cured her. And she'd grow up, play with her dog, go to school and someday maybe get married and have kids. So I hold onto the thought that I did what was right.

I just never knew how wrong right could be.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

I pa.s.sed out in the truck sometime on the way home, because I don't remember any of the drive. n.o.body questioned us when we got back since everybody knew I'd gotten a job. Yet n.o.body knew I'd already decided to quit after one single day. I woke up long enough to walk inside the house, proclaim I was tired after a long hard day, and I went to bed. Jonas didn't follow me, thinking it might seem odd and he wanted our sudden secret kept that way. Instead, he went and joined Starch on the front porch and they played whist- which was a card game that was popular during the Napoleonic era and one I never really understood the rules ofawith Pete and Patty.

I slept for a few hours before joining them. I should have slept longer but I kept waking up so I figured my body was done with sleep. I tried to get the hang of the card game, though no amount of teaching would help me. Then they tried to show me how to play gin, but I couldn't figure that one out either. Finally, they decided I'd do well with poker, and we played for hours, without using powers of any kind, just to make it fair on all accounts. When the sun went down, we went in for dinner. Patty cooked tacos for all of us and we enjoyed a family dinner, all of us crowded into the living room with the TV on watchingawhat else?aThe X Files, but this time on DVD which Starch had gone out and bought on a whim.

Later, after midnight, after almost everyone went to bed, including Jonas, Starch and I fought over what to watch. I'd made him take The X Files DVD out of the player and told him I'd rather watch the television. Starch was complaining, but relinquished the remote to me after I gave him an evil look. I paused on more than one occasion on the news, hoping for a glimpse of my father, whom I hadn't forgotten about, only put aside for the moment until he was on safer ground and reachable. Instead, I caught the tail end of a report on the miraculous recovery of a little girl in a hospital in Las Vegas, Nevada.

I stopped my channel surfing and sat up on the couch; the remote clutched in both my hands.

"What so interesting?" Starch asked.

"This girl," I muttered, not really thinking, only trying to listen to the report.

The reporter stated, "Sarai Kimberly Corbin's recovery is miraculous, to say the least. Doctors claim they have never seen anything like it. A press conference is scheduled for tomorrow morning at ten and any further information will be disclosed then."

That was it.

That was the extent of the report. There probably had been more before then, but I missed it. To hide my interest in this newscast, I flipped past the report and continued on through the channels until I found a late night episode of The Simpsons and left it at that. I settled back into the sofa, knowing Starch had seen something in my brief pause on one specific report. He'd seen my interest. I should have known Starch would pry.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

I fell asleep on the sofa and woke to the sound of my name. Upon opening my green eyes I found two blue ones a couple of inches from my head. I lifted myself up onto my elbows and c.o.c.ked my head at Starch.

"I figured it out," he said.

"Figured what out?" I asked.

"What's been happening around here," he said.

When I sat up fully, he moved back and sat himself down on the coffee table. I only looked at him and waited for him to speak.

He had a lot to say.

"I walked out of Jonas's room knowing my friend was going to die," he said. "I knew it. One look at Hermione's face, and I knew I would never see him alive again. Then the very next day I found him perfectly healthy and without a d.a.m.ned thing wrong. And you were the one who locked herself in there with him. You were the last one to be with him. What happened in that room while you were alone with Jonas?"

"Nothing," I whispered, quite unconvincingly.

"Oh, something happened, Chris," he said. "I think you had something to do with it."

I swallowed then chewed on my lip.

Starch reached out and took my hand. "Chris," he said. "I'm your friend. And I'm pretty sure I can consider you mine."

"Best friend," I told him.

He smiled. "Tell me what happened. Who was the little girl on the news report, the one cured from a deadly illness? The one you were so interested in?"

"Just a little girl," I said.

He squeezed my hand, making me wince.

I bit my lip once more and made a decision. "Okay," I said, knowing I could trust him. "You have to promise not to tell anyone about this. Not Philip, not Pete, not anyone."

"Chris," he said.

"No, Starch," I said firmly. "Too many people already know. One is one too many. The last time...." I didn't even finish, didn't even bring up Christian's name. "Just promise me."

"I won't tell a soul," he said, blue eyes flashing.

"I cured Jonas," I said.

Starch wanted to speak, but said nothing. Or more likely, he couldn't.

"I did it. And I helped that little girl, too. My father was dying of lung cancer when I found him four years ago. This was before my coma, before I came here. I cured him. And look what happened to him." I swallowed again, still unable to say Christian's name. "They tried to take my life after I cured him," I continued. "Because I wasn't careful. They tried to kill me and my father. They very nearly succeeded. That's why you have to keep it secret. You have to promise, Starch. You can't say anything to anyone."

"I won't say a word," he said.

Starch, who really was the best friend I'd ever had, didn't question what I'd said. He knew what people were capable of, people like all of us. He knew because he was one of us. Human beings are capable of doing extraordinary things. Healing was just another one of those things.

"Are there more?" Starch asked quietly. "Like you?"

I shook my head. "As far as I know, there's only me."

"How'd you do it?"

I held up my hands, one still clasped in one of his. He let go of that hand, and I dropped both of mine back into my lap. "I can show you," I said. Without waiting for his answer, I got up and went to the kitchen to get a small carving knife. I brought it back and sat down on the sofa before Starch.

"What are you doing?" he asked, reaching out to take the knife from me as I brought it to my wrist.

"It's okay," I said, taking back the knife. "Just watch."

I drew the knife across my wrist and a thin line of blood welled up. I simply healed it quickly before it could bleed much. I did it again and again, moving up my arm to the elbow, healing each wound a few seconds after I inflicted it. When I looked back up at Starch, his blue eyes were glimmering and his mouth hung wide open. I reached up and shut his jaw.

"I've never seen anything like that," he said.

"I know," I whispered. "I can heal broken bones. Disease. Anything. That's what I did to Jonas, and that's what I did to that little girl."

"You're a miracle, you know." He was still a bit stunned at my little feat.

"Don't say that word." I got up, took the knife back, washed it off, put it away properly, and came back with two bottles of beer. I handed one to Starch and sat down once more.

"I can see why they'd want you," Starch said.

I only nodded.

"You're secret is safe with me," he said, giving me a rea.s.suring smile. "And I'm really glad you saved Jonas. I didn't know what I was going to do without him."

"How long have you been here?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Almost nine years," he said.

"And you and Jonas are about the same age?"

"Considering we don't know how old Jonas is, yeah."