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Once outside, with the sun low in the west and a warm breeze blowing, Judah thought about Eve’s concern for Mercy. He had wondered what would keep Mercy from dinner with her daughter, and suspected that Eve’s take on the problem was accurate. Undoubtedly the woman—Eve had called her Meta—that Mercy was counseling was seriously ill. Was this Meta the woman Mercy had told him about, the one who had lost her husband and children six months ago?
Had Mercy become so engrossed in easing this woman’s pain that she had taken too much of the agony into herself and was in such bad shape that she either couldn’t return home or didn’t want Eve to see her in her weakened condition? Was Eve right—did Mercy need him?
Hell. What difference did it make? Why should he care if Mercy was writhing in pain, or perhaps unconscious and tortured by the suffering that rightfully belonged to someone else?
Don’t think about Mercy. Think about Cael. About finally meeting him in combat.
Think about Eve. About keeping her safe and taking her home to Terrebonne.
But he couldn’t help himself, and his thoughts returned to the past and the promise he’d once made.
I’m sorry, Father. I’ve done all I can, tried everything possible. Cael can’t be saved. He is as insane as Nusi was. Even in death, her hold on him is too strong. Forgive me, but I have no choice but to kill my brother.
Less than an hour into his solitary walk, Judah ran into Brenna and Geol taking an evening stroll. By the way they held hands and from the mating vibes he picked up from them, he suspected that if they were not already lovers, they soon would be.
“You’re out all alone?” Geol asked. “Where’s Mercy?”
“She’s with a new arrival to the sanctuary,” Judah replied. “A woman named Meta.”
“Oh, yes. Poor Meta.” Brenna shook her head sadly. “She should have come to Mercy months ago. I’m afraid it may be too late for her now.”
“What do you mean, ‘too late’?” Judah asked.
“Did Mercy not tell you? Meta tried to kill herself and will probably try again.”
“No, she didn’t tell me.”
“We’ve all been taking turns,” Brenna said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “A suicide watch.”
“Where is Meta’s cabin?” Judah asked, then quickly added, “I thought I’d meet Mercy and walk her home.”
Brenna smiled. Lovers always assumed the whole world was in love. Brenna was young, her mind an open book, so he could read her romantic thoughts quite easily. She suspected that Judah Blackstone, Mercy’s old boyfriend from college, might possibly be Eve’s father, and she hoped they would rekindle their romance.
Without hesitation, she gave Judah directions; then she and Geol disappeared, arm in arm, into the advancing twilight. The sky to the west radiated with the remainder of the day’s light, spreading red and orange and deep pink layers of color across the horizon.
Meta’s cabin was about a quarter of a mile away, one of three structures built along the mountainside. The topmost cabin overlooked a small waterfall that trickled steadily over worn-smooth boulders, until it reached one of the creeks that ran through the Raintree property not far from the main house.
When Judah approached Meta’s cabin, he noticed that the door and windows were all open, a misty green light escaping from them. Pausing to watch the unusual sight, he tried to recall if he’d ever witnessed anything similar. He hadn’t. Although there were a few Ansara empaths, only two or three had actually cultivated the healing aspects of their personalities. It took a great deal of selflessness to devote your life to healing.
He had heard stories of how, in centuries past, many royal Ansara had kept empathic healers caged for the sole purpose of emptying their pain into these women as if they were waste receptacles. He could well believe that someone like Cael was capable of such an atrocity and would even take great pleasure in inflicting such torture.
Judah moved cautiously toward the open front door but stopped dead still when he saw Mercy standing over a woman sitting on the floor, each woman with her arms outstretched as if welcoming a lover into her embrace. The eerie green light came from Mercy. It surrounded her, enveloped her, poured from her like water from a free-flowing fountain. The black-haired woman Judah assumed was Meta had her eyes closed, and tears streamed down her face.
Mercy spoke softly, her words in an alien tongue. Judah, as the Dranir, possessed the unique talent of zenoglossy, the rare ability to speak and understand any language. The gift of
tongues. He listened to her soothing voice as she beseeched any remaining unbearable pain to leave Meta’s heart and mind and enter hers. Wisps of green vapor floated from the woman’s fingertips and entered Mercy’s body through her fingers.
When Mercy cried out and cursed the pain, Judah tensed. And when she moaned, shivering, writhing in agony, it took all Judah’s resolve not to rush into the room and stop her. But the moment passed, and the green mist filtered through Mercy and into the air, leaving behind a tranquil turquoise glow inside the cabin. Judah heaved a deep, groaning sigh.
Mercy reached down, took Meta’s outstretched hands and pulled her to her feet. Speaking in the ancient tongue once again, Mercy bestowed tranquility on Meta’s mind, solace on her heart and peace on her soul, a white light passing from Mercy’s body into Meta’s.
Judah watched and waited.
Finally Mercy released Meta’s hands and said, “Rest now.
Tomorrow you will prepare to move into the next phase of your life.”
“Thank you.” Meta wiped the moisture from her damp cheeks. “If you hadn’t…I can never repay you for what you’ve done.”
