Chapter 2 #4
Mac doubled over as much as he could with the men holding his arms. Blood stained his shirt and ran down his legs.
I blinked and, for a moment, I was hit with the memory of someone else bleeding out in front of me long ago.
I moved forward in a panic, grabbing him as the men released his arms. I stumbled under his weight, but I managed to lower him onto his back.
The straw on the floor beneath him turned scarlet.
I ripped his shirt up and pulled his hands away from the wound, replacing them with my own.
The hot, slippery mess of organs pulsed against my hands, threatening to spill out onto the dirty floor.
Mac panted hard through his teeth, fear and death creeping into his wide eyes.
My powers felt fainter than I hoped, but the comforting warmth swept down my arms and into Mac.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I whispered to him.
His eyes stayed on mine as the blood flow eased, and my powers wove his body back together. When only a fresh pink scar remained, I let go and wrapped my shaking arms around myself, noting that Trey’s jacket was now covered in Mac’s blood.
The woman moved forward from where she’d been hovering near my elbow and ran her hand over the scar on Mac’s stomach. Mac lay still on the floor, panting.
“Incredible,” the woman said. “Does it hurt?”
Mac’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath. “Not anymore.”
The woman leaned close to me, taking my face in her hands. A sugary scent washed over me, clashing with the sharp tang of blood. She inspected the scabbed gash on my head.
“You can’t heal yourself?” she asked, suddenly soothing and calm like a mother talking to her child.
“No.”
Mac pushed himself up to sit, and with the way the woman tilted my head, I could see his hands trembling. His body had healed, but my powers couldn’t replace the blood he’d lost.
“Don’t stand up too fast,” I told him.
Mac gave me a nod, saying nothing as he stood. He swayed a little but made it to the wall, leaning on it for support.
The woman assessed me, her eyes bright. “Could you do it again?” She stroked my hair as though I were a pet.
My panic spiked and I forced myself not to look at Mac. “I need…I need rest,” I stammered. “I can only do it so much.”
“How much?” she pushed.
“I…I don’t know—”
The woman turned to one of her men, cutting me off.
“Sax, bring me Hojo.”
The man gave a sharp nod and disappeared through the door.
The woman stood, pulling out a cloth and wiping Mac’s blood from her knife.
I climbed to my feet, brushing bloody straw from my pants.
My mind balked at every scenario running through it, and I couldn’t help glancing toward Mac.
He still leaned on the wall, but he was standing.
I had a strange flash of relief that at least she wasn’t going to hurt Mac again, and frowned, disgusted with myself.
Mac met my eyes, staring at me hard as though trying to communicate something. I stared back, bewildered, but the sound of a metal door clanging open in the distance stole my attention.
Sax returned, dragging a dirt-caked, gaunt man with wild, ratted hair. He threw him into the chair and started buckling him in. The man thrashed and kicked, but Sax overpowered him. Bile rose in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down.
“Madame,” Hojo barked, “you fuckin’ bitch.”
Madame smiled and stalked toward him. She set the knife against the man’s bound arm. “We’re gonna have some fun, you and I,” she said, then leaned in and asked, “Who gave you the order?”
“I didn’t—” Hojo screamed as she sliced into his arm.
I couldn’t help the strangled noise that escaped through my teeth. Hojo’s scream grew louder as she moved the knife up toward his shoulder, cutting so deep I could see the white of his bone. Blood spilled into the straw.
“You poisoned him,” Madame stated, her gaze on Hojo. “But you were trying to poison me, weren’t you?”
“It wasn’t me!” he howled. “It wasn’t me!”
Madame ignored him, turning those cold eyes back on me. “Go ahead, Bones.”
Hojo sobbed and spat out every curse word in the book as I laid shaking hands on his mangled arm.
The warmth remained, but using it ached like a sore muscle.
The bleeding eased and the skin began to knit itself back together, slower than before, but still steady.
Hojo’s sobs quieted as I healed him, and I could feel him studying me.
Madame hovered close again, watching. Finally, the wound closed.
Madame bent over Hojo’s arm, and I couldn’t contain my gasp of horror as she sliced his arm open again. Hojo’s scream made my ears ring.
“Again.” Madame smiled.
I obeyed. I had to choke back a cry when next she stabbed her knife into Hojo’s right shoulder, the blade disappearing up to the hilt.
Hojo’s entire body flinched away from me as I stepped forward. My chest constricted, but I pretended not to see.
“C’mon, Hojo, I know you’re not smart enough to carry this out by yourself.” Madame sneered. “So who else was in on it?”
Hojo shook his head, sobbing. One of her men took an iron bar and smashed Hojo’s leg as he screamed and cursed and spit.
I knelt before his bloodied leg but hesitated.
I needed to set the bone before I healed it with my powers or it might heal wrong.
I’d learned that lesson the hard way after Grip broke several fingers.
I’d healed him, but his hand had been left permanently crippled.
“What’s the matter?” Madame’s foot tapped a restless rhythm on the floor.
“I need to set the bone,” I whispered. I doubted it’d been a clean break. Could I even set a shattered bone?
Her eyes bored into me. “Why?”
“He might not walk again if I don’t—”
Madame waved a dismissive hand. “Now, Bones.”
I shakily grasped Hojo’s bloody leg and healed it the best I could, tears spilling from my eyes.
“Where did you get the cyanide?”
“Maybe he didn’t—” The words tumbled out before I snapped my stupid mouth shut.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Mac go eerily still.
Madame smiled, still calmly wiping her blade down with a bloodied cloth. “No, go ahead, Bones. You got something to say?”
Heat flared up my neck. I shook my head, a tiny movement.
“Good.” The knife glinted as she cut him open again.
Hours passed. The flow of my power started to feel like claws shredding me from the inside.
Sweat stung my eyes, and when I swiped a sleeve across my running nose, it came back bloody.
I glanced at Mac once to find him watching me with predatory focus, his dark eyes glittering.
I got the impression Madame was testing him as well as me, and I gritted my teeth, trying to go numb.
Madame slashed her knife through Hojo’s neck, and I managed to heal the deadly wound before I stumbled and fell to my knees, vomiting bile into the bloody straw.
My body shook as I heaved. Above me, Hojo panted.
He’d stopped answering questions a while ago.
Any defiance in him had burned out, leaving a hollow shell.
But he was still alive. Thanks to me.
“Get her up,” I heard Madame say.
Somebody hauled me to my feet. The room spun. Madame said something, but I couldn’t focus on the words. A sharp stinging slap to my face made me gasp.
“Again,” Madame ordered.
She plunged the knife into Hojo’s chest. He let out a pained wheeze. Madame pulled the knife back out and smiled at me.
“Or he dies.”
I lurched forward and fumbled at the wound.
Hojo’s eyes closed, his face twisted in agony.
I grasped for any remnant of my power inside me but found only wisps of smoke.
The room tilted, darkness creeping into the edges of my vision.
I tried to focus on Hojo, tried to push through the pain, but then, nothing.