All The Dark Places

26. The Glow Of His Hands

They were fairly certain they had gone out of the way enough to evade anyone chasing them. Rosalind could no longer hear anything but crickets and her own heartbeat. She felt faint. She was exhausted and losing blood from the wound in her neck. They had not dared to stop until they were sure they would be safe.

"We need to get you patched up, Rosalind," Ramona said. "I have a first aid kit and I might be able to stitch up that wound. Oh, honey, that looks bad." Ramona said, shining a flashlight onto the wound in her neck.

"I feel sick," she said, her face too pale.

Father Gareth stopped and reached out his hands.

"Please, let me put my hands on the wound," he said.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Ethan asked. "You'll give the woman an infection. We need bandages..."

"Trust me, please. I can help. Rosalind, is it? Come here and let me help."

Feeling compelled, she moved to stand in front of Father Gareth. He reached out to touch her, feeling her shoulder and moving his hand up over a slick trickle of blood.

"Ah, that is a terrible wound indeed. My dear, I need you to take a deep breath. Breath slow and even. This will burn. I've been told it burns."

She obeyed the man though she wondered what he was doing and why. She had no time for this lay on hands prayer thing, but she found it difficult to crush a man's hopes. He covered the wound with his hand and closed his eyes. She gasped when a slow burning pain seared through the wound. She buckled and sank to the ground, and he sank down with her, keeping his hand on her neck. Ethan lunged forward, ready to stop Gareth from harming her but Ramona pushed him back.

"Wait! Just watch. She's all right. Look at what he is doing," Ramona said, holding Ethan back.

They watched Gareth's hands; a soft white glow emanating from the palms and swirling outward. He pulled his palms away and long strings of liquid light clung from her skin to his. She cried, shaking and flinching but she did not cry out for him to stop. With a final gasp, she collapsed onto the damp ground. Ethan rushed toward her, turning her over. She was limp, her face damp with a sheen of sweat, tendrils of black hair clinging to her skin.

"It's... gone," Ethan said, moving her hair aside. The flesh healed, leaving behind only a jagged white line of a scar. "That cut is gone. Roz? Rosalind? Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

Ethan knelt over her and frantically tried to wake her. She turned her head to the side; her limp hand sleepily trying to scratch at the healed wound. Ethan gently took her hand and pulled it away. He slipped his arms under her and lifted her up, carrying her to higher and drier ground. Laying her on a mossy embankment, he smoothed her hair away from her face.

"What did you do to her? I mean... how?" he asked.

"I assure you, the poor dear just needs to rest. I healed her wound, and now she must rest. She will be as good as new by morning. She needs water and food. She lost a lot of blood."

She was incoherent, barely able to move, but Ethan and Toby managed carefully to hold her upright. Ramona mashed up a bit of fruit and bread and slipped it between her lips. She chewed though just barely. She drank a little water and then a little apple cider that Toby brought. Wolvy stalked around them, protecting the area and Ramona once again went into her strange trance as Drago soared overhead.

"Mythmakers, all of you," Ethan said, amazed. "You are all myth and magic."

Toby smirked.

"The lot of them, yeah, but I'm just an old man with a rifle. Let those bastards try that shit again. I'll put a hole in their heads you can fly that hawk through."