Page 58 of The Immortal's One
Right… they’re Immortals. There’s probably a long list of crazy stuff they can do. It would be cool to hear about their abilities if I weren’t tangled up in their mess with no idea how to get out of it.
Wait…I replay Lome’s words in my mind, and my stomach drops.
“My dad’s lymphoma isn’t advanced.” My words sound weak even to my ears. Fear that’s simmered inside me ever since I first learned of Dad’s diagnosis starts to spill over.
Compassion softens his expression. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Darcie, but your father’s cancer has spread to his liver.”
“No.” My voice is barely a whisper, fruitlessly trying to will Lome’s words out of existence. “You’re wrong. Dad’s doctors just checked him. They said it hadn’t spread out of his lymphatic system.”
“Mortal medicine has come a long way, but their diagnostic techniques are not as good as mine.” Lome’s voice stays steady. “I assure you, the cancer has spread.”
My chest tightens. My head spins. Thiscan’tbe happening. Lome is lying. He has to be.
But… what if he’s not?
What if Dad’s cancer has truly advanced to stage four?
I’ve done the research. Stage four lymphoma is treatable and has a decent prognosis, but it's obviously worse than stage three. There are no guarantees Dad will survive this.
Or, even if he does, what will the disease do to his body in the meantime? He’ll becrushedif he can’t work.
What if Lome can really help him?
I squeeze my eyes shut and think.
Believing Lome can cure Dad’s cancer means that I believe their story about them being Immortals.
Like…reallybelieve it.
I exhale a shaky breath.
I do believe this is real, but it’s going to take some time for me to come to terms with it all. Still, hope, tangled with fear claws at me, urging me to take Lome at his word.
I open my eyes and meet his patient stare. “How do I know you can actually heal my dad?” I whisper.
Lome’s lips curl in a small, encouraging smile. “I can prove it.”
I stare at him, unsure whether I should be scared or intrigued… or both. “How?”
He extends his hand.
I flinch back without meaning to. “What are you?—?”
“Let me show you,” he says, his patience unwavering. “Give me one of your hands.”
I glance down at my palms, raw and scraped from the stupid trellis. I hesitate for a moment, then place my hand in his.
Lome’s fingers are cool against my skin. The moment hetouches me, warmth blooms, spreading up my arm. I try to jerk back, but his grip tightens.
“Wait.” His voice is softer now, coaxing me, not commanding.
My heart races. Warmth spreads through my hand and my wrist. I don’t look away from where we touch. Then I see it—the cuts, the scrapes in my palms—they fade. I blink, and my skin is smooth. Like nothing ever happened.
My jaw drops. “What the hell?”
He releases my hand and steps back, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Like I said, I can heal your father.”
Magic… Immortals… powers… this is all insane.
