Tribe (Tribe 1) (5 page)

No one looked at me. They shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. I knew each one of them had experiences where the choice to give someone only a partial healing was a struggle for them. But this time it was different. I needed to make them see that. I leaned forward and caught my mother’s eye.

“Mom, if you had looked into his eyes…there was just something so different about him. I can’t explain it. It’s like…we connected. On a different level than I’ve ever connected with someone before. I didn’t plan to cure him. I swear! I just opened the channels a little bit. But then he relaxed, and closed his eyes, and leaned his head against my hand. I saw what was growing inside him. It was ugly. It was eating him alive. But even that didn’t sway me. I could feel the distrust fading, and some part of him coming back. A part of him that had been gone a long time. He’s special. I don’t know any other way to describe it. And I just felt deep within me that I couldn’t walk away, no matter what the cost. I didn’t mean to put anyone in jeopardy.” Tears clouded my vision as I realized just how much danger I could have put them all in. “But it was like I was compelled to do it.”

Dad’s demeanor softened. “Ember, your mother and I were young once. We went through the same thing. It’s hard, even now, for us to pass by someone who truly needs and deserves our help. It was worse when we were younger. We had all the drive to heal that a teenager has, but we didn’t yet have the responsibility on our shoulders of taking care of a whole family. When you’re young, it’s easy to give into the urge to go rogue, and do what feels right to you at the time. But as you get older, and you learn more about the repercussions of your actions, you’ll realize just how important it is to make levelheaded decisions. Why do you think I so rarely do major healings any more? Why do you think I’m in research now, instead of being a practicing physician? I’m too soft-hearted. It’s too hard and too stressful for me, facing patients every day that I can help…but knowing I can’t really help them, without endangering all of you.” He reached out and took Mom’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I admire her for it, but I know my limitations. And until you’re older, and learn your own limitations, it’s important not to tempt fate.”

“I get that.” I leaned forward in my seat. “I really do. But come on! I’m seventeen. I have no curfew, I can drive, you don’t keep tabs on me…but I can’t help people? I don’t think it’s fair that the only ones who can cure people are you and Mom.”

“You help people all the time when you volunteer at the hospital,” Mom snapped. “No one said you can’t heal. We only said you can’t
cure
. You’re just too young.”

“How am I ever going to learn, if you don’t teach me? It’s hard to sit back and watch people suffer. I feel like I have the power to really make a difference in this world, and I can’t. I feel like…like an artist who’s only allowed to color in coloring books.” I sat back, dejected.

“But healing isn’t supposed to be about you using your talents,” Mom said. “It’s about helping those who need it the most. Your father and I weren’t even allowed to heal as much as you do now, when we were your age. But we trust you to be mature enough to make the right decisions for your experience level. Your father and I have much more experience than you do. We know how to carefully plan a full healing without attracting attention, and how to deal with the repercussions afterward.”

She meant avoiding bloodlust.

Once a month Dad met Mom at work, to help her after she cured a patient. She was careful who she chose, when it was done and how she went about it. She did it just after she got off the late shift. Dad was always there to meet her, and take care of her. He brought the blood bags, keeping them in the car, in a special insulated backpack, with icepacks to keep them cool. He’d wait outside the hospital room, keeping watch while Mom “checked in on one last patient.” He’d chat up any nurse that might interfere, and buy Mom enough time to finish up. When Mom was done with the healing, he’d bring her down to the car and drive to the darkest, emptiest corner of the parking garage, at the far edge of the security camera range, and pour the blood into a covered coffee cup, so she could drink it surreptitiously. They were very careful, and made sure to avoid endangering anyone.

“I know, Mom,” I sighed. “You’re very careful. I could be, too. If you let me.”

“Ember, you need to focus on what is important,” she continued, “it’s not just about you. It’s not about your feelings. The whole
tribe
is at risk if we expose ourselves. Just because the elders have gone out of their way to avoid placing restrictions on our people, doesn’t mean they won’t change their tune in the future. It’s important not to be selfish. We all have to look out for each other.”

I knew she was right, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. And no matter what she said, it wouldn’t change how I felt. I wasn’t sorry for healing Alex.

I’d do it again.

T
he little “talk
” with my parents went on for another half hour or so, ending with me promising to be more careful, and Dad grounding me from the car for the week. I had turned seventeen a week before, and I was supposed to get Mom’s old car as soon as she picked up her “new” car—a second-hand Prius. I was mad, but I was smart enough to know I got off easy, so I kept my mouth shut.

Dad may be pretty relaxed when compared to most fathers, but you still didn’t want to get him riled up. He had been a hippy-dippy type like my mom, back in his younger days. He had a lot of the same values Mom had, but he still had a bit of a conservative streak that he couldn’t shake, from the more traditional upbringing he’d had.

He was a freelance researcher, under short-term contract for medical genetic research projects that had met with success and had garnered extra funding for more staff. In his spare time he liked to work on his own research. His pet project was coming up with theories about why we Healers—vampires, as society would call us—are the way that we are.

His favorite theories revolve around genetic mutation, either from a virus or an inherited genetic defect. I lean more toward the virus theory, myself. What kind of Creator would deliberately saddle us with this curse from our conception? A virus made more sense to me. Of course that’s not scientific enough for Dad, so in his time off, when he’s not working on building or repairing something with River or spending time with the family, he’s in his home office/lab, working on his theories.

Dad took his tea into his office, and Mom followed. That meant they weren’t finished discussing me. I had finished my tea while my parents were lecturing me, so I put my mug in the sink, grabbed my purse, and went upstairs, with River following closely behind. As I reached my door, River stopped too.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he whispered. “You know how much they go bananas over it.”

“I know.” I paused, my hand on my doorknob. “I just couldn’t help it.”

“If you keep this up, you’ll never get your own car. Me neither, for that matter.”

“Oh, you’re golden boy, they’ll probably give you
my
car.”

“Hey, Em, it’s not as easy for me as you think it is. We both have choices. I just choose whatever causes the least hassle.”

I knew he deliberately didn’t say “the right choice”, because walking away from someone in pain never felt right to either of us.

I heard my parents murmuring down in Dad’s office.

“Oh great,” River’s head tilted, listening. “They’re talking about supervising us more closely. Us! How did
I
get roped into in all this?”

“Don’t eavesdrop.”

“I have to, my future is at stake,” he whispered. “Mom’s saying she should quit her job. There goes half my freedom.”

“She always says that when she’s worried about us. She never does it. If she did, it would be much harder to come by the blood, not to mention, she’ll never give up having the easy opportunity to heal terminal patients with less risk of being noticed.” I opened my bedroom door. “Don’t tell me anymore, I’m trying not to listen.” The truth was, I just didn’t want to hear anymore.

“All right, but I better not suffer for your mistakes.” He frowned at me and retreated to his own room.

Once inside my room with the door closed, I sat on my bed and pulled out my stone bag again.
I thought I handled all that pretty well. The citrine and bloodstone seem to have done the job. Now I need some black tourmaline.
I picked up a shiny black stone with bits of white marbling running through it. Immediately I felt my negative energy ebb away, and was able to turn my thoughts to more positive things.

I didn’t need the natural healing effects that these gemstones provided. I could clear away my own negative energy, after all—unless I got myself really worked up. But I liked using them. It made me feel more connected to nature, something really important to a Healer. I often made jewelry from them, usually a pendant suspended from a leather cord.

Laying back on the pillows, I clutched the black tourmaline in my hand, and between the soothing tourmaline energy and the Valerian tea I’d consumed, soon I was fast asleep.

I
woke
up Sunday morning with a stiff neck, having slept all night fully-clothed in a semi-upright position. I stretched and rotated my neck, then held my hand there for a few minutes to heal the soreness. I savored the warm sensation on my neck, and the tingles in my hand. When I was done, I got up to take a shower.

Mom checked in with me after I’d showered and changed. “Try to get some reading done today before you get started on anything else.”

“It’s Sunday.”

Mom gave me a look.

“Okay, Mom. I’ll start in a minute.”

She left, and I picked up the copy of “Pride and Prejudice” I was working on. Since we did the “unschooling” thing, a free-choice version of homeschooling, we didn’t have a strict schedule for school or any real curriculum. That also meant that my complaints about it being the weekend didn’t hold much water. There were plenty of times that we took a day off from our studies during the week, and studied on the weekend, instead.

I didn’t know how most kids could sit in a hard chair all day and learn anything—I’d die of boredom. Our studies were mostly self-directed, so we learned about subjects that interested us the most. Meadow loved art and literature, River enjoyed astronomy and animal husbandry, and I preferred Earth sciences, biology, and creative writing. Of course, we learned all the basics too, and those were pretty cool, since Mom let us mostly choose which books to read, and growing up she let us choose which math books and games she ordered. Although once I got past geometry, I found math a chore.

Mostly we did school around my mother’s work schedule and at whatever time of day we preferred to do it. For River, that was mornings. He liked to save his afternoons for his beekeeping and working with the goats, and his evenings for time with Dad, working on whatever projects needed to be done, like repairing the fencing or building a new hay crib.

I preferred to stay up late reading or writing, then sleep in until at least ten. Then I’d get up, read for a while, and get ready for the day. After collecting the eggs and checking to make sure the chickens’ feeders and waterers were good to go, I’d hit the books for the afternoon, then go for a walk before dinner. Meadow’s schedule had changed since she started college. She was hardly home, spending most of her time with friends or at school. She promised to come home on weekends, but most the time I slept alone in the room that we shared. I guess college life was a lot more exciting than life at home.

I hated that she was gone so much. It made it lonely at home. We used to be on the same schedule and do everything together, but I consoled myself that at least I saw her sometimes. Meadow had spent a full year backpacking across Europe after graduation, instead of starting school right away. It had been a long year while she was gone, and during her time away, she’d changed a lot. We weren’t as close as we’d been before, and that was hard on me.

It’s not like I didn’t have friends. And since I had a license, I could borrow my mom’s car and go see them whenever I wanted. I mostly hung out with other unschoolers, so I didn’t have to worry about interrupting a family’s rigid homeschooling schedule. But I liked staying at home, spending time on our twenty acres with the animals, picking wildflowers and gathering wild herbs. Mom used them to make tinctures and salves, to give away to people we knew. Other than herbal teas and soaps, we didn’t use many of our homemade items, because we didn’t need them. So we’d give the tinctures and salves away, and use the opportunity to give our neighbors a sneaky little dose of healing at the same time. They always attributed and good health results to our homemade concoctions.

Well, if I have to read, I might as well get some fresh air while I’m at it,
I thought, grabbing the book and my purse and heading out the door. I walked up the trail to “the peak”, the highest point on our property. There was more land that spread up to the actual peak of the small mountain we lived on, but we didn’t own that land. Our neighbor had twenty acres and a tiny cabin up there that he lived in part-time.

But our rocky outcropping was better. It was sheltered from the view of homes on the neighboring mountains, and had an expansive view of Hauser Lake through the trees. It was gorgeous up there. I sat down, feeling the chill of the rock beneath me and the warmth of the sun on my skin. I enjoyed the sound of the wind in the pine trees and the birds singing. It felt like my own private paradise.

An hour later, the phone in my purse rang. I usually took the phone with me so my mom would be able to reach me in case of an emergency. Which meant that I had to bring my purse, because of my mother’s “no wireless objects are to be kept on your person” rule.

It was River.

“Em, you got a phone call.” His voice was hushed, and I heard the goats in the background.

“Are you in the barn?”

“Yeah, I gotta be quick. Some boy called for you. Alex. Isn’t that the kid you healed last night?”

My breath caught. “Alex? Are you sure?”

“I have the message right here in my hand. How did he find you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe through Jenna. Did he say what he wanted?”

“No. He just gave me his number and asked you to call back.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Listen, I need to get back in the house. If Mom catches me out here with my cell phone, she’s going to know something is up.”

“You need to calm yourself down, or she’ll know anyway.” I opened my channels and sent energy to him. For serious healing you had to be touching the person, or at least really close, but for mild healing you could send it over a distance. I could hear his breathing slow down.

“You’re right. Thanks. You’re just lucky I caught his call while Mom was out weeding the garden. She went inside right after I snuck out here, so I don’t think she can hear me.”

“I really appreciate you not telling her. I don’t know what he wants, but I’ll take care of the situation. I promise.”

He gave me Alex’s number, and we hung up. I took a deep breath, and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this…um…Alex?” I was nervous. I couldn’t imagine why he had called.

“Yes. Ember?”

“Yeah. I was returning your call.”

“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Your brother said you weren’t home.”

“I’m on the other end of our property. He called my cell to give me the message.”

“Oh.”

Awkward silence.

“So how did you get my number?” I asked. I’d spoken to Jenna that morning, when she’d called to check up on me. She hadn’t mentioned talking to Alex.

“I looked your number up online. You told me your name, remember?”

“Yes, I guess I did.”

More awkward silence.

“Well…I just called to thank you.”

My heart stopped. “W-what?”

“To thank you. I was feeling pretty down yesterday, finding out that the fundraiser was a bust. You really helped me. I know this sounds crazy, but I felt so much better after we talked. In fact, I’ve felt good all day today, too. It’s the best I’ve felt in weeks. Maybe even months.”

Uh oh.
Cold dread spread through my chest.

“I just wanted to let you know,” he continued, “how much you helped me. I don’t know what it was, but something about the way you treated me made me feel so much better. I guess it’s because you made me feel like a normal person. Not a sick person. I can’t remember the last time someone treated me like a real person.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You really did. I had been feeling hopeful at the beginning of the fundraiser, because it had been a good day for me. I was able to walk around a little bit, which is why you found me outside. I’ve been in that chair or in bed non-stop for the last two weeks. But then it seemed like everything fell apart. I overheard my parents talking about how little money had come in, and my mom was crying…it just made me feel so tired and…I guess trapped. It gets old, feeling like you no longer have control over your life.” He sighed. I could hear the frustration in his voice. “Anyway, you really lifted me up. I just wanted you to know that.”

I blinked back tears. “I’m really glad, Alex. You’re a good person. I can tell. You deserve good things.”’

“Yeah.” The resignation was palpable. He didn’t think anything good would happen for him.

I wished I could tell him that he now had time for good things to happen to him, but I had to be content just knowing that he had a future.

There was so much more I wanted to say to him, and I sensed he had more to say to me. But he said nothing, so I wished him well and we said our goodbyes.

I sat for a long time crying, and I wasn’t sure why.