Healer's Touch (20 page)

“Llew . . . ”

“Not now, Al!”

He didn’t touch her again, but stayed nearby. Despite how horrible it felt to have an audience, it was oddly comforting to have someone on hand while she dry-retched.

And then came an almighty crash from upstairs and a chair hit the road in a shower of glass. Emylia gasped and Anya squealed, and the hotelier cursed from somewhere more distant. Another crash and thump of feet on stairs, then the door flew open and someone ran past at a terrific speed. It had to be Jonas.

“Fool boy!” Aris cursed from the doorway, a moment later.

“What in the hell–” The manager’s voice cut off at sight of the chair. “You’ll pay for that!”

Aris turned back inside to placate the man.

Llew stood up, wiping her lips with her sleeve.

“Let him go, Llew,” said Alvaro.

“He hates me.” She leaned over, supporting herself with hands on knees. “I killed a child and he hates me.” If half the trouble that Aris expected was coming, then she needed Jonas’ protection, as much as she was loath to admit it.

“He don’t hate you, Llew,” Cassidy said, coming through the door behind her. “He just sees his part in it, is all.”

Llew turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“It was him who moved you to the grass.”

Llew looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Reckons if he’d just moved you to the other side the kid would still be alive,” Cassidy clarified. “He tell you about his wife?”

Llew nodded.

“Did he tell you she was pregnant? Eight months gone,” said Cassidy.

“We need to leave, damn it!” Llew didn’t think Aris’ heart was in the curse. “Any idea where he might’ve gone?” No-one replied, and Aris screwed up his face. “We can’t stay here. I’ve paid for the damage, but the hotelier wants us gone. Besides, a witchhunt’s about to begin, never mind what Braph’s doin’.”

“I could try that playground we passed on our way in,” said Llew. It seemed as good a place as any to start.

Aris gave her a nod. “Not alone.”

“I’ll go,” said Alvaro.

“The rest of us will meet you there. Find him.”

“I’ll find him. He’s fast, not invisible,” she said.

She and Alvaro went to the stable for their horses. They saddled and led Jonas’ horse, too.

“You ever heard any of the stories about him?” asked Alvaro as they rode through the Osurnu streets again. People gave the passing pair suspicious glances, and Llew supposed anyone not local would be a suspect in the witch stories making their way down the country; with the death of the child so close, the Osurnu people would know there was every chance the witch was nearby.

“About who?”

“Jonas, of course.”

“No. What stories?”

Alvaro looked a little surprised. “I s’pose there’s less interest in ’em here, but on Phyos there’re a whole series of books about the Syakaran of Quaver. He’s a hero. A Quaven hero, but other countries like the stories, too. Not so much Turhmos, I guess. Point is, Llew, where do you think a relationship with an Aenuk fits into the stories about a killer of Aenuks?”

Llew shrugged. “Look, Al, if me being a Syaenuk,” she glanced at him as she used the term, “is a problem for Jonas, then it’s a problem for him. And whatever you have to say about that isn’t going to change things.”

As soon as the park came into view, Llew knew her hunch had been right. Only a few kids ran around as carefree as the previous evening. Most lingered around the edge, and when Alvaro and Llew approached they could see why.

Jonas sat on one of the swings, swinging gently and holding his big knife in one hand, flipping and catching it by the blade. Flip and catch. In his other hand, he held his small bottle – refilled at one of the inns they’d stayed at – and he was taking the occasional swig between knife flips.

Llew considered how she should approach him. Reaching a decision, she swung down from her horse and handed the reins to Alvaro. She pushed her way through the crowd of children, strode across the open field and sat in the empty swing beside Jonas. He ignored her for a while.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she thought she’d given him enough time.

He took a long nip from his bottle.

“Don’t.” He spoke to the ground. He flipped the knife a couple more times, catching it by the tip of the blade and letting it wave up and down between his thumb and fingers. “It weren’t your fault.”

But it had been
her
power that drained the landscape,
her
power that sucked the life out of the girl. Llew shook herself. She half felt as though she’d sucked the girl’s very soul into herself.

“You were practically dead, and I just dumped you at the side of the road. I didn’t even think . . . ”

He looked up, and Llew could see the self-loathing painted on his features, and the burned hand print under his chin.

“I killed that man’s daughter.” He tipped the bottle between his lips. He was going to end up very drunk at this rate. Llew reached out to grab the bottle, but he pulled it from her reach.

Suddenly he was looking for something, rolling his gaze about them. When he spotted what he was after, he slid from the swing and walked across the field, sliding his little bottle into his back pocket. Llew followed him to a small copse of trees.

“I did it. I killed her. And now the poor bastard has to live every–” He swung his knife arm back, and Llew stepped out of his way. He drove the blade into a tree, almost to the hilt. “–
day
of his
life
–” He pulled the knife free. “–feeling the pain of that
loss
.” He sunk the knife back into the wood. “And
all
–” He yanked the knife free again. “–I
had
to
do
–” In. Out. “–was look.” He turned to Llew, his face twisted in an ugly smile, his knife by his side. “But all I could see was you.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she said quietly, wondering what else to say, and suddenly realising her own innocence. “We . . . we didn’t know.”

“Was that . . . Was that supposed to make me feel better?” He stepped closer to her, still holding the knife in one hand. “You think it brings that man’s daughter back?” He was crowding her, just as he had done when they first met.

“No.” She knew she sounded weak, but she wasn’t going to fight him. “But neither would letting him have his revenge.”

“Well, shit.” He stepped back. “What are we gonna do now?”

Llew pointed behind him to where she could just make out the carriage and their friends pulling up to the playground. “Go with them. Get Anya where she needs to be and never make the same mistake again.”

Jonas looked over his shoulder, then back at Llew.

“That easy, huh?”

Llew nodded. “Next time I die, let me die.”

“Well, hell. Why don’t I take care of that right now?” He hefted his knife. Llew held her breath. She knew it was the drink talking, but how far would it go? Then again, he was right. If she was gone, there would be no more widespread destruction. No more dead children drained of their ghi as they played with their toys.

“Why don’t you?” She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to kill. She had dreams. She just wanted a normal life.

To Jonas she was just another Aenuk. A healer. A destroyer.

She wondered how much slower he would be with all that alcohol coursing through him. She doubted it would be slow enough.

“No, Llew. This blade won’t find you today.” He slid it into its sheath and secured it. “But it will find you. I’m sorry.” He started walking to the horses and Llew followed a few steps behind, wondering what he’d meant.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jonas swayed in his saddle and sang incoherently as they made their way from Osurnu. His condition meant they couldn’t travel faster than a walk. Aris fumed, but there was little he could do, and the tired horses and riders weren’t in any mood to complain about the easy pace. Llew took the chance to doze in her saddle.

“I’m sorry, Llew.”

She was jolted awake.

“Everyone I ever gave a damn about is dead. Except Aris, but I guess it’s only a matter of time. I’ve tried not to, but my heart has condemned you to death.”

Llew stared at Jonas’ drunken, flailing arms and unsteady seat. He wasn’t even looking at her, and seemed to speak to the Aghacian landscape at large. And then he began singing again. He sang of heartbreak; he sang a happy drinking song that steadily grew less and less understandable; then he began to snore.

They stopped briefly to eat around noon, and Alvaro, Cassidy and Llew helped the unsteady Jonas from his saddle, hoping that food might sober him up. He sat at his horse’s feet rocking and singing under his breath while rations were divided.

“What’s he had?” Aris asked Llew as she collected food for both herself and Jonas.

She shrugged. “Whatever he filled his little bottle with.”

Aris looked at Jonas with disappointment and then his jaw clenched in suppressed anger. “He’s not much good to us like that, is he?”

Llew shrugged again, and returned to offer Jonas some sobering bread.

“You’re really pretty, Llew, you know that?”

She smiled at him and held out some bread they’d picked up in Osurnu.

“Of course you do, ‘cause Al’s been smitten since he saw you naked.”

She looked at Alvaro. He was busily taking in their surroundings as he ate his rations, but by the colour of his ears, he had heard.

“Llewella,” Jonas whispered. She loved to hear him say it. No one had called her by her full name since she was a child. But it wasn’t a child’s name. It was a woman’s name.

“You’re nice, too. That’s why I like you. And funny. Can’t forget funny. And when you died, it was like losin’ my best friend.” He looked around conspiratorially and leaned closer. “Shh. Don’t tell Hisham.”

“Who?”

But he continued on, oblivious to all. “But then you lived and I hated you for it. How could you be one of them, Llew?” His eyes pleaded with her and Llew found herself wanting to apologise. “Then you saved Cassidy. Hooray.” He gave a goofy smile and leaned in again. “That was amazin’. It really was.” He almost sounded sober for a moment. “But then that girl.” He looked pained, sick. “That’s why we kill you. Too dangerous. Children dying. So many children. So much destruction . . . ” He stared at her. “I’m drunk and I’m talking nonsense,” he said, looking sorry for himself. But it passed and he stuffed his mouth with bread.

Llew struggled to eat her own chunk, chewing each tiny nibble till it was moist enough to swallow. Her mouth was dry. He should have killed her back in Stelt. She was too dangerous.

Barely half a mile down the road they were forced to a stop by Jonas’ need to bring his lunch back up. Llew crouched by him while he knelt at the side of the road, vomiting and proclaiming his apologies to everyone.

The rest of the afternoon’s ride was slow and silent as Jonas mostly slept in his saddle. They stopped for the night at the first town they reached – Benton: Population 378 – spending the night in a very small hotel with just the two rooms that the group needed: Emylia and Anya in one, Aris, Llew and the boys in the other. By the time they were settling for bed, Jonas was almost sober, but poorly. He didn’t say much and looked very sorry for himself.

Llew lay awake for some time pondering her options. Jonas’ brother –
half
-brother, she corrected herself – wanted her for some reason. Turhmos wanted her for some other reason, or possibly the same, she didn’t really know. Aris wanted to take her back to Quaver, and it wasn’t just to keep her safe, it was to have something that Turhmos wanted. Something. It bothered her to be thought of as a commodity, but that was exactly how all these people were thinking of her. What about what she wanted?

The best option seemed Quaver. At least that way she would have Jonas and Aris. Wouldn’t she?

But what if they just handed her over to some Quaven authorities? Wouldn’t she then be just as much a captive as if Braph or Turhmos caught her? And if she somehow managed to stay free, something she struggled to see happening, how was she going to stop herself from killing anyone else? Perhaps she really was better off dead. In captivity or in hiding didn’t seem like much of a choice.

She drifted to sleep still unable to picture the life she wanted as a viable option in her future.

***

Jonas groaned into his pillow when Aris tried to rouse him the following morning.

“Learned your lesson?” Aris asked, standing over the cocoon of blankets.

“Not yet,” said Jonas’ muffled voice.

“Well then, you’re in charge of getting the horses groomed and fed their morning ration. Get up.”

“You’re a cruel master.” Jonas pulled his head up off the pillow and squinted at Aris.

“And you’re a poor lieutenant. Did you really think whisky would make it all better?”