Leaping (8 page)

Little doggie ghost cutouts hang
around the desk, and a plastic Halloween bucket full of treats sits next to the
sign-in sheet.

“If you steal those meds, Dr.
Michael and Dr. Megan will lose a lot of money, and they could get in trouble,”
I say.

“It’s a burglary. The insurance
will cover their losses,” Gabe says, but his voice is soft. His eyes flick from
one picture to the next, and I know that victory is mine.

“There will be an investigation
with so many drugs gone,” I push. “They could be suspects. And their insurance
will go up. And…”

“Okay, okay, the meds stay,” Gabe sighs.
He runs a hand through his wavy hair. “Come on. Someone could see us from the
parking lot,” he grumbles and turns around.

I hide my smile. “My hero.”

***

Two hours later, I sit across from
the operating room and try not to get into a staring contest with Rich, who sits
at attention next to Gabe’s supine form. My brother has taken this forced down
time to finally change out of his costumes, and we both indulged in quick sink
showers in the small bathroom. Gabe calls these “homeless showers,” and we’re
both depressingly adept at them.  The last sickly yellow and green shades are
fading from the bruising on my elbow, and the injury should be nothing but a memory
by tomorrow. Fast healing is yet another benefit of my condition, one I can’t
help but appreciate when I think of the months it will take for Rain to heal.

Gabe lies on the floor, arms
crossed over his chest, jacket bundled under his head. I watch his chest rise
and fall slowly and his shimmering blue aura drifting with dreams. He can sleep
anywhere. Give him 15 free minutes and a floor, a chair, a park bench, or the
back seat of a car, and he’ll be out like a light. I complimented him on it
once, and he beamed proudly and told me it was a skill. I’d thought that he was
joking. But now I understand. We don’t get a lot of breaks, and most of the
time a safe and comfortable bed isn’t on hand when we do.

My phone dings. I take it out and
read Tarren’s update. He just got to town and will find a motel nearby for Rain
to rest for the day. I notice that he doesn’t include us in the whole resting
thing. He probably expects us to toss Rain through the door and take off on the
next grand mission. I’m definitely planning on staying, but it doesn’t do any
good to tell Tarren these things straight out. Instead, I confirm and let him
know that I’ll send through an update as soon as we’re on the move. I also send
a quick text to Bear, letting him know that there’s no news yet. He’s still
driving over and should be in later tonight to take over Rain’s care.

I watch Gabe sleep, peaceful as can
be, and I think about Tarren. His nightmares are far fewer, and I know it has
to do with whatever Gem did to sooth his mind in Peoria nine months ago. Sometimes
when we’re in adjourning motel rooms, I’ll feel the familiar rise in Tarren’s
aura through the wall, that jagged intensity that speaks of impending night
terrors. And just as swiftly as it started, the spikes of fear will be gone,
washed away. I’ll wonder if he’s dreaming of the picnic I planted into his mind
with Gem’s help as a ward against the nightmares. Tarren never talks about it,
and I’m not about to ask and earn the scowl of a lifetime.

Rich and I both hear the steps from
the other side of the operating room at the same time. His ears perk forward,
and I jump to my feet as the door swings open. Francesca pulls down her mask.
The light sheen of sweat on her olive skin makes her even more beautiful …because
apparently that’s possible. The spike in Gabe’s aura as he sits up seconds my
opinion.

She gives us a big white smile.
“We’re done. He’s stabilized, ready to move.”

“Will he ever walk again, doc?”
Gabe asks in a melodramatic voice as he expertly fits his lucky hat backwards
on his head.

That brilliant smile fades just a
little. “He will walk again,” she says.

“But…” I keep the tremble out of my
voice.

“It was a bad break,” Francesca
says, and her voice is soft and kind, just like it should be when delivering
bad news. “Dr. Lee says it’s too early to tell if he’ll recover 100%.”

While Francesca wipes down the
operating room, I carry Rain back to the jeep. Getting him inside without
banging the shit out of his poor, concussed head is a lot harder than they make
it seem in the movies. Especially when his loopy aura laps gently across my
skin, reminding me that it’s been a full day since I’ve last fed.

I place him on the back seat, very
conscious of the fact that his pants are gone, and he wears only a pair of
Gabe’s boxer briefs, blue and stamped with a pattern of shiny golden lightning
bolts. His lids crack open, and his eyes are soft and brown, fringed by short
black lashes.

 “How are you?” I whisper as I lean
over him to pull the seatbelt across his frame.

“Is Tarren okay?” Rain’s voice is rough
and slurry. The welt on the side of his temple throbs an angry red.

“Yeah, he’s fine. How do you feel?”
I reach out, press my fingers through his pale aura, and brush his bangs out of
his eyes.

“Smells like…piss,” he mumbles.

“Probably shouldn’t point any
fingers, but that was all you.”

Rain looks at me with huge eyes.
“Hi.” The small smile that follows flicks on every single light switch in my
body.

“Hi.” I grin back at him.

                Gabe gives a short,
sharp whistle from the front, and I know what that means. I’m a little less
gentle as I lash the second seatbelt over Rain’s legs. He doesn’t seem to
notice. His eyes blink, then close, and his aura becomes smooth once again.

Gabe shoos Francesca and Dr. Lee
out of the building. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“The lady vet just walked in.
Probably to check on Rich and the other animals.”

“Well, then you might have a
problem.” Gabe follows my gaze to the big, dumb, satellite dish-headed dog
sitting at his feet, tailing wagging.

“Shit, Rich! You were supposed to
stay inside.” Gabe blows out a breath and looks behind him at the door. “I can
get him in.”

“You sure? We can’t afford any
alarms.”

“We can do it, right Rich?” Gabe
pats the dog on his side and quietly opens the door.

“Was the operating room clean?” I
turn to Francesca. She holds a small, bulging trash bag in one hand and a tired
expression on her face.

“I did the best that I could. We
moved the machine back, washed the equipment. Cleaned the table. But…”

“They’ll noticed the screws and
plates missing,” Dr. Lee says. “Eventually.”

The door eases open, and Gabe slips
out on nearly silent steps. “Close one,” he says softly and then grins. “But
not close enough.”

***

Tarren allows us exactly seven
minutes and twenty-six seconds in the motel room before he suggests leaving.
Okay, not “suggests,” because when Tarren makes a suggestion, it’s always just
an order wrapped in a pretty bow.

Rain’s left leg is encased from ankle
to hip joint in a plaster cast wrapped in paw-print bandages. He’s hilariously
loopy, telling us that scientists should build little mechanical legs for
snakes so they can walk and that he thinks penguins might actually be able to
talk but just choose not to. I’ve laid him out on a springy queen bed below an
impressive black and white framed photo of an old train. Each wall in the room
holds a similar old-timey picture. A photo next to the door features a woman holding
a parasol over her head. She wears a dress with buttons up to her throat. I
catch a whiff of mildew in the room and wonder if anyone else can smell it, or
if it’s just another pleasant gift of my enhanced senses.

“We should go to the lab” Tarren
says. “Lab,” is the code word for Lo’s mansion in Las Vegas. I guess since
Francesca and Dr. Lee are in the room we’re back to using our system of code
words to protect our sources. I decide not to mention the fact that Lo drove
down to Dr. Lee’s cabin when Gabe was in the coma. Mixing allies is a big
“no-no” in Diana’s rulebook, but at the time I couldn’t have cared less.

Gabe and I exchange expressions. I
don’t despise Lo the way he does, but every trip to Lo’s mansion means I have
to reprise my role as their unenthusiastic lab rat. I’m pretty sure Lo spends
the time between our visits thinking up creative new ways to poke, prod, and
humiliate me.

Gabe is still convinced that Tarren
is working on a cure for angeldom, something that will change me – all of us – back
into full humans. I’ve never let myself even open that door of hope.
But
Tarren did create the Prism,
I remind myself. My hands throb, just thinking
of the powerful beam of sunlight the curved mirrors can generate on a sunny
day. The heavy black backpack in the back of the jeep has changed my life over
the last seven months. It has given me strength and clarity. If not complete
freedom from the hunger, it’s at least lengthened my leash enough that I don’t
constantly despair about giving in and hurting someone I love.

“I’d like to stay here a little
longer. At least until Bear arrives,” I say and try to find that same ‘not
really asking’ tone that seems built into Tarren’s voice box. “You and Gabe can
go ahead.”

“I should wait for Bear too,” Gabe
says immediately. “We need to strategize. You know, make sure we aren’t
pursuing the same leads, exchange intel, really important stuff.” He sounds so
natural, so earnest that if I didn’t know him down to his very Gabe core, I
might almost believe that he wasn’t completely bullshitting.

Tarren also knows his brother well,
but he doesn’t call Gabe out on the lie. He looks between us, and I know he’d
like to break out his disappointed expression and say wearied team leader things
about how we’re a family and have to stick together, but he won’t show division
in front of Dr. Lee and Francesca. He merely nods, his blue eyes hooded from
emotion.

“I’ll go ahead. I want you both on
the road in twenty-four hours,” he says.

Tarren looks tired. The scruff is
darker and thicker along his jaw, almost covering the long, white scar. He
needs to stay here with us and catch a few hours of sleep. We could rent a
second room, so he’d feel more comfortable. I open my mouth. Gabe clears his
throat and gives a tiny shake of his head.

I guess he knows me to my very Maya
core too.

“Guys, guys, guys,” Rain says into
the awkward silence. “That leprechaun on the cereal box, I don’t trust him.
I’ma…not sayin’ he’s guilty of anything. But really, I don’t think he should be
around children. Just to be safe. You guys feel like that too, right?”

“You know what, I think you’re right.”
Gabe turns to Rain. “Maybe we should track him a little, just to make sure he’s
not doing anything inappropriate.”

“Yeah.” Rain’s eyes widen. “Yeah!
You and me, Gabe. We need to sur…survey….no…surveille him!”

 “Sooooo,” I swing the conversation
toward Dr. Lee and Francesca. “Tell me what I need to do here. How to take care
of him.”

Dr. Lee sits in a plush, striped
armchair in the corner. The brown spots throb in his aura. “Rest and pain
management,” he says. “He shouldn’t be moved too soon so the bone can knit
together.”

“We have to go after that
leprechaun,” Rain interrupts.

“I want him in this room for at
least 24 hours, then get him someplace safe. Preferably close by. As little
riding in a car as possible.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Bear about
that.”

“He needs to give that leg time to
heal. At least eight weeks in the cast. Keep him in bed or on a couch the first
couple of weeks. Bones heal slowly.”

“Eight weeks, shiiit,” Gabe says.

“But…the leprechaun,” Rain says. His
eyes bounce from me to Dr. Lee. He must be following the conversation somewhat.

“Pain should be a lot more
manageable now that everything is lined up,” Dr. Lee continues. “You have
Vicodin or Percocet?”

“We’ve got Vicodin,” Gabe says. He
lounges against the door, arms crossed over his chest. It’s a manly pose that
he’s obviously doing for Francesca.

“Give him a 300 mg tablet every
four hours for 24 hours, then you can back down to every six hours if he can
handle it. After two weeks, try to wean him down to a pill in the morning and
one at night if needed. He can stay on it as long as he needs to. Get him
plenty of fluid and limit movement as much as possible.”

I nod, letting all of the
information soak into my memory.

Dr. Lee’s voice is stern. “No
trying to bend his knee or walk on that leg until that cast comes off. It’ll
probably drive him crazy, but he’ll just need to deal with it.”

Francesca is flicking short, shy
glances at Tarren. I ignore the jumping waves in her aura.

“What happens when the cast comes
off?” I say

“He’ll experience significant
muscle atrophy,” Dr. Lee says, blunt as always. “After the cast I’ll transfer
him to a brace. He’ll need to rehab. Slow walking, stretching, light strength
training. The leg will probably never be as strong as it was, but he should
regain most of his mobility back.”

Will he be able to fight?
The
question doesn’t quite make it to my lips. I’m not actually sure if I want a
yes or a no.

“Will he be a gimp?” Gabe asks.

I look to Rain…who has fallen
asleep with his mouth open.

Dr. Lee frowns. “Sometimes the
bones knit right back together, and the patient is good as new. Other times…” His
pause is like the jab of a hot poker fresh out of the fireplace. “Sometimes the
bones don’t heal right. The screws and plates at the clinic were smaller than
what I would ideally use for him. It might complicate the healing process. He
could end up with a lot of weakness in that limb, or possibly a pronounced
limp.”

I let out a long, slow breath, and
look at Rain’s slack face and chapped lips. My eyes travel down his body to
that bulky cast, his pink toes sticking out at the bottom.

“All we can do is take good care of
him now,” Francesca says softly. She looks right at me, because I guess I’m
being super obvious about my feelings again. “The rest is up to God.”

I try not to snort. The big guy has
been pretty silent in my life, especially during the worst parts of it, but I
don’t say this to Francesca. She’s been way too good to us. Instead, I stare
past her at that woman in the black and white photograph. I wonder how long it
took her to button up that dress in the morning. Did she ever wake up and
wonder if it was even worth facing all of those buttons?

“Thank you for your assistance,”
Tarren says to Dr. Lee. “And you.” He nods toward Francesca. Her eyelashes bat,
and even though I bet she’s trying to hold herself back, she can’t stop the
color that rushes to her cheeks. Her aura blooms in shades of purple wine.
Lust.

I really, really, hope Gabe can’t
see what’s going on here. His heart would probably go supernova if he realized
the love of his life had the secret hots for his tall, handsome, heroic
brother.

“We owe you so much,” Tarren says.

“I’ll put it on your tab,” Dr. Lee grumbles
and waves his hand, like he’s pushing the compliment away. Gabe and I made the
decision not to tell Tarren that it was Francesca who played the biggest role
in saving his life after he was badly burned. She was the one who talked me
through the stages of care, including the truly awful debridement. If I never
have to shave burnt skin off slick, purple muscle again, I think I might die a
happy little angel-hybrid freak.

Tarren’s eyes rest on Gabe and then
on me, and I feel the weight of his expectation. “Twenty-four hours, and we’ll
rendezvous at the lab.”

Only Tarren and James Bond could
use the word “rendezvous” and not sound like a total tool.

“Twenty-four hours,” I repeat.

“Check,” Gabe nods from his corner
of the room.

Tarren walks through the door, and
on impulse I follow him out. Gabe’s eyes are probably giving me all kinds of warnings,
but I don’t look his way.

“Tarren.”

My brother pauses. He’d probably
prefer that I use his codename now that we’re technically in public, but no one
else is on the walkway outside of the motel. He turns and squints at me. Now
that the surgery is over and Rain is truly safe, this flood of relief inside of
me needs to find a harbor.

“I know what you think of the
Totem,” I babble, “and I…I just…thanks for finding him. Thank you.” I take
another step forward, almost close enough to hug him. “Thank you.” I want to
hug him. He saved Rain. He saved me with the Prism. He’s spent his entire life
saving people, and right now he looks so uncomfortable and tired and
embarrassed that I have to say it again.

“Thank you.”

Tarren clears his throat as pale
strands of amber light and fade in his rigidly controlled aura. “You’re
welcome.” The words are soft. “I’ll see you at the lab.”

“Get some sleep. Four hours at the
first rest stop. Lo can wait,” I tell him.

A small flicker of a smile rises
and quickly disappears on his face. Then he turns, and I catch it. A faint, familiar
scent. Flowers, smoke, and cashmere.

Perfume.

That’s when I realize…it must have
been on the angel. Rain must have somehow made contact with her during their
fight. And Tarren would have had to pick her up to bury her.

I watch Tarren walk away in the
worn jeans and long-sleeved black shirt that he exchanged for his cowboy
outfit.
But he changed.

Tarren turns the corner. For a
moment only his shadow remains, and then that too is gone.

A door opens behind me.   

My mind whirls.
How…in…the…

I feel two auras moving toward me
and turn to confront Gabe and Francesca. My brother looks at me, and his face
is serious. Gabe is almost never serious, and he’s almost never scared, but I
see sharp red bolts of fear in his aura. Francesca has this way of opening him
up all the way into the soft, vulnerable parts of his soul.

“She needs to know the truth,” he
says to me. “She deserves to know.”