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ChapterOne
Lillian Milano clutched her younger sister’s clammy hand between her palms. Hannah was only twenty-two. Too young to die. Lillian fought the panic pushing into her lungs, pressing on her chest like a weighted blanket. She dropped her head on the hospital bed rail.
Deep breaths. Keep calm.
Not the time to hyperventilate. Not the time to feel faint. Not the time for strong emotion. Strong emotion only weakened her healing ability. And without her life-saving gift, Hannah wouldn’t survive the night.
“Did anyone see you?” Her dad sat on the opposite side of the bed, his glasses crooked and his hair going every which way, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. God, how she’d missed him. The past two years had been the loneliest of her life.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“You’re taking a big risk coming to Cleveland. You should have stayed in Boston, where you’d be safe.” His nostrils flared, but Lillian knew he wasn’t angry. He held back tears. “I’ve already lost your mother. And now Hannah has this virus. I can’t bear to lose either one of you girls.”
“You’re not going to. I promise.”
“The healing has to work.”
“It will. Hannah’s gonna beat this.” Lillian moved her chair until her knees touched the bed and squeezed Hannah’s hand. “C’mon, Sis. Stay with me now. You don’t have to do anything. Just rest.”
Hannah didn’t stir. The steadydrip-dripof the IV, thebeep-beep-beepof the heart monitor, and her sister’s raspy breaths were the only sounds interrupting the tense silence.She looks so weak. Too weak. Oh God, I hope I’m not too late.
Lillian closed her eyes, focusing on Hannah. A dark shape formed behind her eyelids. Hannah’s shape. Soft orange light wrapped around her sister’s body like a warm shawl.
Deep breath in. The orange light pulsed and glowed.
Deep breath out, careful not to disturb the orange light.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Again. Again. Again.
Each of Lillian’s breaths radiated healing light and power—energy she absorbed from others as easily as a tree absorbs sunlight. In the case of minor illness, the energy she released would have been enough to heal and comfort a patient. But this was no minor illness. And Hannah was no ordinary patient.
Orange light faded into the dark shape as Hannah’s body absorbed the healing energy. Lillian opened her eyes to see Hannah’s flutter, then open. Her gaze looked unfocused and feverish.
She squeezed Hannah’s hand and released it. If she held it longer, the heat and light would transfer back to her, negating any positive effect on Hannah.
Breathe.Calm.
She stood and swiped a trembling hand across her damp forehead. Healing even a minor sickness sapped her strength. Tackling a severe illness like Hannah’s could kill Lillian if she wasn’t careful.
“Did that help her, Lou-Lou?”
She met her dad’s gaze across the bed. The pet name almost had her falling apart. When had she last heard him say it? And in that scratchy timbre? She curled her toes to keep from crying.
“Yes,” she said, projecting a confidence she didn’t feel and pulling air into her starved lungs. “But it’s not enough.”
She turned toward Hannah. “It’s going to be all right, Sis. I promise. I’ll keep trying until you’re better. You’ve got to hang in there.”
Her sister nodded and coughed. Fear filled her coppery brown eyes. The hand Lillian had clasped never moved.Not good.Her sister’s normally lustrous dark hair lay thin and limp, plastered against her sweat-slicked forehead.
Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome. The flu-like symptoms can be fatal.
Fatal.
The word rattled around in Lillian’s head. As a nurse, she understood the seriousness of the virus Hannah had contracted. But as her older sister, the knowledge ripped through her mind with the stunning force of a tornado.
