Legacy (13 page)

He rolled out of his bed and padded barefoot out through the doors under my loft to let him in. I lay back in my bed for a moment, yawning up at the ceiling. Maybe Trevor would take his grandfather somewhere else and let me get back to sleep, although neither one of us had gone anywhere without the other since the Attack of the Charm-Whore. I stayed close to protect Trevor from Belinda. He stayed close…to protect Belinda from me.

A sudden awareness of Archer’s thoughts made a sick chill run through me.

Oh, no
.

I clamped down with a battleship-strength mental shield.

CHAPTER 7

I quickly pulled jeans and a shirt from the little dresser in the corner of my loft. Trevor kept his clothes out of reach in the little bathroom annex, but he was still decent in his PJ pants and t-shirt.

Archer and Trevor came in together. “—told you in Michigan how I need a large, open place to sleep? This is it.” Trevor gestured at the sanctuary, empty except for the rumpled mess of a bed.

I joined them, welcoming Archer with a silent hug, which surprised him. My face felt like it was dripping off my skull.

Why are you shielding from me?
A tendril of orange-brown energy wrapped through Trevor’s words, like I’d hurt his feelings.

I pointed at Archer and Trevor in turn, and then mimed talking by holding my hand up to my mouth and flapping my fingers against my thumb, like a duck’s beak. I felt like an idiot, basically playing charades at a time like this.

Trevor got it, though.
He’s got something to tell me, doesn’t he?
Little yellow flares of trepidation welled up in him.
Something bad?

I glanced at Archer, trying to keep the pity out of my gaze.

He gave me a sad smile. “You already picked it out of my head, didn’t you?”

I nodded as tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. The aching pain in his left side seemed stronger now. I’d simply assumed he’d pulled something when I’d felt it from him in Michigan.

“What?” asked Trevor, looking between Archer and me.
What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.

“I had some medical tests last week. Got the results Monday. Pancreatic cancer.” God, it sounded even worse when Archer said it aloud. He tried to keep his voice calm but clouds of dread filled his mind
. The cancer’s already spread. The pain’s going to get worse—much worse.
The doctor’s clinically-cold words seemed tattooed into his thoughts.
“I’m sorry to tell you the prognosis is very poor. Expected survival rate for a case as advanced as yours is about

two months, possibly less.”

Trevor sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, gripping the headboard for support. After looking around and assessing the limited seating options in the big, empty room, Archer tentatively settled on the foot of the mattress.

I let my shield drop. Trevor gripped my hand like a man-overboard clutching a lifeline. Emotions churned dizzy circles through his mind.

Oh, no.
No, no, no.

“So,” Archer tried to sound nonchalant, “If I’m going to kick the bucket in the next few weeks, I wanted to see this amazing place first. Lilith didn’t want to come, so yesterday I just got in the car and started driving. I stopped after about nine hours, stayed at a motel overnight, and hit the road early this morning. Once I got to Vermont, I called the number you gave me, Trevor, and a nice girl gave me the directions to get here.”

He turned to me. “When I got in, I think it was your mother who sent me over to this church, Maddie. She had green eyes like yours…and they had that same ‘I’m-trying-not-to-show-pity’ look that yours had a few minutes ago.”

I gave him a watery smile.
Did she get a hand on you?

He nodded. “Even gave me a hug. Nice lady.” I saw my mom in his mind.

That’s her.

“Is she a mind-reader, too?”

I nodded.
If she touches you, she knows what you’re thinking.

“Matilda,” said Trevor. Our eyes met and I felt my eyebrows climb my forehead.

Archer’s brows furrowed in confusion
. Didn’t she say her name was Nina?

She and Morris have never done anything with cancer,
I told Trevor.

“Now they have their chance.”
His eyes held a fierce determination.

I turned to Archer.
How do you feel about trying a miracle cure?

A huge grin spread across his face, wrinkling the skin near his eyes. The bright little spark of hope illuminated him from within. “What’ve I got to lose?”

“Please, open your shirt.” Matilda’s expressive eyes reflected her somber thoughts as Archer related what his doctor had told him. She laid her hand against the pale skin of his abdomen and closed her eyes as she concentrated.

Oh, my. It’s quite advanced. Fatal within a few months…but I don’t think we should give up.

Trevor’s outward calm covered a roiling nausea and horror.
He can’t be dying. Archer can’t be dying.

I tightened my grip on his hand.
She’s going to try to help him.

“Please, lie down.” Matilda indicated the exam table in the center of the infirmary. While Archer settled himself, she picked up the phone. “Morris, we have a new case and I need your help.”

Do you want Hannah and Heather?
I asked her.
They’re upstairs.
I could hear them above us in Hannah’s room, having an animated discussion about lipids.

Matilda nodded.

Hannah, Heather—

“
Holy crap!”
Apparently Heather wasn’t used to thought projection.

The expression bothered Hannah, but she concluded that taking the name of poop in vain really wasn’t blasphemous.

New case down here in the infirmary,
I told them.
Matilda wants you to come.

Their feet thudded on the wooden stairs.

“Hey, Maddie. You scared the
hell
out of me a second ago.” Heather grinned, although traces of her fear still fluttered within her. She’d thought Isaiah had been about to fry her.

Hannah winced at Heather’s word choice.

“What can you sense?” Matilda watched them closely.

Heather rolled her eyes.
Oh, great—pop quiz!

Two new sets of eyes swung toward Archer, who pinked up uncomfortably.
All these young ladies looking at me and I’m lying here half-dressed. But they’re doctors, right? I must be getting old. They all look like children to me now.

Next to me, Trevor started to shake.
He’s going to die. Archer’s going to die. Dammit! No! It’s not fair! I just lost my father. I can’t stand losing my grandfather, too!

I squeezed his hand and leaned against his shoulder. What could I say?

Hannah and Heather flanked Archer and each placed a hand on his arm.

What’s this?
Archer wondered.
Are they doing some sort of supernatural religious ritual?

I shook my head.
They’re healers. Right now, they’re using their ability to look through your body to see where and how badly the cancer has spread.

Hannah located two tumors as I watched her thoughts. Three. Four. She hadn’t even reached the pancreas yet. I felt Trevor’s growing panic as he followed them through my ability. Each new discovery made him feel like he’d swallowed a nail.

I gave Archer what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Do you want to see what they’re doing?
I immediately regretted making the offer. How could it help to show him how bad it was?

He smiled back. “You read my mind, Maddie.”
I’d like to see a few more amazing things before I die.

I focused in on projecting the images in Hannah’s mind—vivid, three-dimensional, and overlaid with patterns of energy that pulsed in various rhythms. Archer’s circulation throbbed a double drumbeat throughout the various systems. Fizzy little micro-zaps of electricity hummed from every neuron. Hormones flavored the various organs. And the tumors…well, they felt…
wrong
. Seen through the mind of a healer, the pockets of tissue obviously didn’t belong.

Oh, this poor man,
thought Hannah.
I don’t think we can do enough to help him.

This guy is so screwed,
thought Heather.

That’s a lot. There’s only so much we can do to rev up the body’s natural healing. We don’t know how much a person can handle. And this patient’s older and sicker than the people we usually treat.

“I suppose we could try.” Matilda clasped her hands in front of her. “Once the malignant cells are removed from the pancreas, we might be able to re-create adequate insulin production.”

Archer sat up slowly, the pain in his side biting into him with the motion. He started re-buttoning his shirt.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up.” Matilda’s accent gave a subtle melody to her words. “We’ve never tried to treat cancer before, and yours is rather advanced.”

Archer smiled at her. “If we do nothing, I’m dead in two months. Trevor and Maddie here seem to think that you might be able to do something to change that.”

“It wouldn’t be easy on you, and there’s no guarantee of success.”

“Doing nothing is a guaranteed failure. I’d like to see what you can do.”

Matilda nodded. “All right. Come back here at eight tomorrow morning. Don’t eat or drink after midnight. You’ll be unconscious for the procedure and we wouldn’t want you to aspirate anything.”

Archer frowned. “Oh, I’m allergic to some of the anesthetics.”

Matilda patted his hand. “Don’t worry. We don’t use them.”

“Up for some lunch?” Trevor’s giddy relief danced around him like sunshine on the ripples of the lake as we left the infirmary.
Archer’s going to be okay!

I’d only taken two steps from Blake House before I suddenly found myself lifted twenty feet in the air. I let out a shriek of surprise, drawing startled attention as I “flew” down the path to the main building.

Archer thought it was hilarious. “Don’t drop her!”

I chose to ignore the stares. Trevor’s delicious joy washed through me and I started to laugh. He pulled me into his arms on the porch of the main building and gave me a smacking kiss in front of his grandfather and everyone. Once we were inside, however, the crowd of minds around me assaulted my senses.

What are they so happy about? Isaiah Lerner’s coming to kill us all.

I’m gonna lose my job if I stay here much longer. Why can’t Williamson and the other minders get it in gear already?

If I hear the sound of helicopters again, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop screaming.

I could feel their thoughts squeezing against me, like riding a too-crowded bus. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as my mood crumbled with the pressure.

Trevor sensed the crowd’s effect on me.
Picnic?

I nodded gratefully.
Please.

The two heaping trays of food floated above head-height, out of jostling range in the busy dining hall.

Amazing.
Archer’s eyes reflected his sense of wonder.
And that’s my grandson.

My mother’s minder-loud thoughts cut through the crowd, flaring with awareness of another mind whenever someone bumped or brushed against her.
There you are, honey!
She started toward us.

Trevor reached back through the line for another sandwich.

“I see you found Trevor.” My mom put her hand on Archer’s arm in a “gesture of support.”
Oh, dear. How’s he doing?

I rolled my eyes.
Subtle, Mom. Why don’t you just ASK him how he’s doing? He’ll tell you, you know!

“You spoke with Matilda this morning?” she asked.

Archer smiled. “Looks like there might be a way to make my terminal cancer…well…non-terminal.” He held back a laugh as he caught my eye—he knew exactly what my mother was doing with her little “gesture of support.”

She blushed and released his arm. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t pry.”

“No apology necessary. I’m just thrilled at the possibility for another chance.” Archer looked at Trevor and a warm, teal-blue flash of pride flowed through him.
I want to get to know the incredible young man my grandson’s become. It shouldn’t take a cancer scare to get me to appreciate what’s important in this world. I’m not going to waste this second chance.

We settled out at the edge of the lake, pulling some of the sparks’ metal chairs and benches across the clumpy, brown-sugar sand of the tiny beach. Fast-moving clouds reflected on the water’s surface and sent dark shadows rolling over the surrounding hills. A cool breeze threatened to steal our paper napkins.