Page 77 of Xantera
Or no. More precisely, she wants to heal—heal others physically, yes, but also hearts and minds and broken spirits.
But this? The way this woman’s haunting eyes track her as she approaches? I don’t think Saskia can heal whatever the fuck she’s about to discover.
Iswallow my inhale as the woman’s eyes lock onto mine.
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. I was just—I’m one of the new Chosen Ones and… I hope I didn’t startle you.”
I back up a step to avoid frightening her any further, but in truth,I’mthe one who’s startled. Because this woman still hasn’t moved a muscle, only her pupils falling to track the movement of my mouth while her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.
With a pause, I glance over my shoulder at the door I left cracked open. I’m obviously intruding on a moment of rest, but something about the way she looks soalertclashes with the way she’s lying there, unmoving. Like there’s a panic scrabbling its way out of her peaceful expression, begging me not to leave quite so soon.
“Is it okay if I sit with you?” I ask when her attention doesn’t leave my mouth, suddenly feeling like I’m one of the caretakers atthe Assisted Living Facility. This woman can’t be much older than a green-badge, but there’s a stale mustiness emanating from the sheets, as if the dust motes in this room have settled long ago.
Ever so slowly and painstakingly, her chin rises and dips with a strange grinding sound I might have imagined. A nod. I settle on the edge of her bed and, after a moment of hesitation, lay my hand over hers, shivering at how cold it is. How brittle.
She’s dying, I tell Lucan with a healer’s certainty, sorrow and frustration ripping through me at the realization.Whatever the vampire venom does to us, she’s had too much of it. She’s near the end.
Out loud, I plaster a smile on my face and say, “I’m Saskia. Can you tell me what your name is?”
A few seconds tick by. Her mouth twitches, like she’s chewing on a mouthful of words. Then, as if it costs her the greatest effort, she shakes her head. The same grinding sound pierces my eardrums. I definitely didn’t imagine it this time.
My heart squeezes painfully, but her free hand trembles as she lifts her wrist, and my gaze snaps to her fingers as they pinch together. Her hand rotates with creaking slowness, then falls back into her lap with a defeated slump.
I cover the back of her hand with my palm, not wanting her to move even an inch. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me…”
My gaze returns to her face, her nose and mouth and the color of her eyes, and suddenly, my heartbeat drums against my ribcage as I realize why she looks so familiar. And why she keeps staring at my mouth as I form words.
“Are… are you… having trouble hearing me?”
She gives me a meaningful blink that I think might mean yes.
Our daughter was born hard of hearing and had to spend her whole life with hearing aids, but Diggory made up his own language with her using just his hands so that she could take them off when all the noises became too overwhelming.That’s what Belinda had toldme back in her housing unit, and even though this woman doesn’t have any hearing aids in, I canseethe resemblance. She’s a perfect mix of her mother and father.
“Are you Diggory’s daughter?” I ask.
Her eyes widen at the way my mouth moves, reading the question on my lips. She doesn’t even have to nod. I’m already getting up, shutting her door, and returning with an idea brewing in my head. In the space Lucan occupies, to be exact.
You can talk to anyone who’s touching this vial?I ask him.
Yes.He sounds surprised yet impressed as he catches wind of my unfurling idea.But I’m not sure if I can talk to two humans at the same time.
Only one way to find out, then.If Diggory’s daughter can’t speak and I can’t understand her attempts at sign language, then maybe I can talk to her mind-to-mind just like I’m talking to Lucan.Just…I hesitate.Maybe don’t reveal that you’re the Monster. That might actually give her a heart attack in her current condition.
Who am I supposed to be? Your sexy imaginary friend?
I suppress a smile.Something like that.
Before our conversation can drag on too long, as it so often does, I dig under the skirts of my dress to slide the necklace down my leg and over my foot. The woman’s eyes flare with shock when I hold it up, the blood-red vial catching a beam of sunlight from the window. A million thoughts seem to swirl behind her irises, so I don’t waste time to give her an ability to communicate.
Gripping the necklace tight, I grab the woman’s hand and press the vial against her skin, sandwiching it between our clasped palms.
Instantly, a new presence zaps my bloodstream, joining Lucan’s rich, dark aura. Hers is surprisingly strong but panicked, like the branches of a tree grabbing hold of both of us in a vice-like grip, reeling herself in as if she’s on the cusp of drowning.
It’s okay, I say as soothingly as possible.I know it feels funny, but this will help us communicate.
Diggory’s daughter gives a slow couple blinks in my direction, then her questions explode in my mind.Who are you? How did you get that necklace? What happened to my father? Is he alright? Why are you here?Fear bursts through her pupils.How did you get that necklace?she repeats.
Praying that Lucan stays silent like a good imaginary friend until I can calm her down, I tighten my grip on her hand.Your father actually gave this to me.
