She laid her hands right over his skin, not quite touching, but she could feel the hairs there rising up to meet the energy emanating from her palms. Once again, she expanded her vision outside normal human sight. It was easier now, she was familiar with the way it felt, and she didn’t fight it. Her eyes went opaque again, that dense cloudiness, a foggy barrier between her and the outside world.
Her stomach lurched as her vision moved through his skin and muscle until she could see the bone. It was much clearer to her this time. The entire bone, from thigh to calf, was riddled with tiny spiderwebbing cracks. At first the cracks appeared a dull pink behind a gray veil, but then they became clearer and clearer, turning into a deep crimson. She took her time, breathing in and out, making herself conscious of doing so. With each breath, she focused on the scorching heat rising in her, seeking an outlet, seeking the stench of illness.
Immediately, her body tuned itself to his. She felt that too, the way every cell in her body reached for the cells in his. Merged with them. Those tiny spidery lines dissecting his bone, weakening it, glittered and danced like tiny flames, ran through the crevasses. She saw the droplets of infection seeping out, looking like veins of yellow.
Her heat rushed over those small streams. Steam rose, obscuring her vision. She nearly jerked away.
“No, no, you’re perfect right where you are. Don’t be afraid. You’re doing everything correctly. Let your body heal his.”
The voice steadied her. It was soft, gentle even. Encouraging. Even admiring. So calm. She didn’t understand how the other healer could be so calm in the face of such a huge disaster. She wanted him there. To do this himself. He was experienced. She was . . .
“The power you have is enormous,” the voice continued, as if she weren’t crumbling in the way Malichai’s bone was.
That steadied her even more. Even she could feel her power. It was impossible not to. She told herself she was born for this. She’d been born with that gift. She was supposed to use it for good. Malichai was not only good—he was the best. The best part of her. She kept her hands moving very slowly up his leg, watching the steam rise as the scorching heat boiled away those long yellow tracks, all that infection seeping out of the spiderwebbing.
It was exhilarating, terrifying and exhausting. Her body seemed to be burning out the infection, cauterizing the tracks, so the infection couldn’t return and then processing it through her own cells. She felt ill. Dizzy. She wanted to vomit. Fever made her grow hot and turned her hair damp, matting it to her head. She felt very weak, her body swaying and her legs threatening to give out on her.
“You have to fight it, Amaryllis,” the healer said. “You have more work to do. Your assessment of the bone was correct. If you don’t fix it, it will continue to deteriorate. I don’t believe a surgeon would be able to stop the bone from continuing on its downward spiral.”
She didn’t believe, even with her working on the infection, that even a surgeon could save his leg. Alarm spread through her. “His brother said a psychic surgeon was coming.”
“He’s on the way. You get rid of the infection and as soon as he gets there, he’ll do the rest, but that infection has to be taken out now. Concentrate. You’re going to have to fix that bone now, or he’s going to lose it.”
“Don’t tell her that,” Malichai snapped, shocking her. He sounded unexpectedly strong. His voice almost growled. There was menace in it, as if he would leap off the bed and attack the unseen man on the phone.
Amaryllis put her hand on his chest to ensure he didn’t try to sit up or move. “Honey,” she cautioned, not knowing how to calm him. He was clearly very agitated.
His hands surrounded hers. His eyes were glazed with fever, but they looked directly into hers. “Amaryllis, this isn’t on you. If it doesn’t work, or you’re too tired, it is what it is. This isn’t on you.”
“He’s right,” the healer said immediately. “I misspoke, Amaryllis. I didn’t mean to imply you were in any way responsible. Sometimes when I work on something, I can get it, other times not. I know that. We all do. I’ve never actually talked someone else through the process.”
“It’s all right,” Amaryllis said. Just that brief respite from concentrating, from using vision that turned inward rather than outward, gave her renewed energy. She leaned down and brushed her lips across Malichai’s. “I got a little scared, honey. It’s bound to happen, but I’m doing this and it’s making me feel as if I’m doing something valuable. He’s really helping me, and I appreciate it so much.”
Malichai didn’t let go of her hand for a moment, staring into her eyes, searching. “You good, Amaryllis? Really?”
“I am.” She poured confidence into her voice.
He slowly, almost reluctantly, released her hand and she moved back down to position herself once more by his leg. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the man on the screen.
“I’m ready. Tell me what to do.”
He sighed. “I’m not there. I can’t feel my way. That’s what you have to do. Judging by the energy coming out from under your palms, you’re extremely powerful. Start with your palms hovering about an inch from his skin. If the cracks don’t come wholly into focus for you, drop your hands lower until you can see those lines perfectly clear. Those are breaks. Start from the bottom of the bone and work your way up. Don’t let your palms touch his skin or you’ll burn him. It will be very uncomfortable for you, Amaryllis. I can’t stress that enough. Once you start up a break, you have to keep going no matter how difficult it is. When you reach the top, that’s when you can take a breath and let yourself relax for a moment.”
Once more, before Amaryllis could do anything, Malichai caught her arm. He was very strong. Extremely so, and he pulled her away from his leg and back up closer to his head. Once he had her there, he wrapped his arm around her waist, locking her to the side of the bed.
“What do you mean, it’s uncomfortable for her? Why?” Malichai asked.
“Honey,” Amaryllis said, trying to extricate herself without actually fighting him. He was stronger because she had pushed the infection from his body. He was no longer feeling those effects. She was tired from using her gift when she wasn’t used to it. Her body felt as if she’d run a marathon. She wanted to lie down and rest. “It doesn’t really matter why it would be uncomfortable, I’m doing it because it has to be done. You have to let go of me.”
“Stop squirming. You can’t get away from me and you know it,” Malichai said. He used a calm, fierce voice, as if he were immovable. “Joe, explain this to me. Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why. I’m doing it.” Now it was a matter of pride. Not only was the mysterious healer, Joe, listening, but his brothers and friends on the plane were as well.
Amaryllis was certain the worst way she could handle the situation was to allow it to become a matter of pride, and she was falling into that trap. She needed to find a way to make Malichai understand. This wasn’t about his brothers, or Joe. This wasn’t about her or her ability to heal. This was about Malichai and what he needed. He was willing to sacrifice himself in the way he always did, for everyone else, but she wasn’t willing to allow him to do that.