I’d only healed very minor things, like an infection from an ingrown toenail, Mrs. Greely’s headache, Shea’s menstrual cramps. I was more of an assistant, really good at grabbing gauze and bandages.
He gripped my arm. “Demon injuries are very common in the war zones, and if you’re given a healer position in the Fallen Army, you’ll need to know how to heal a Snakeroot acid burn.”
My eyes widened as he dragged me across the quad. “She’s my best friend. If I mess it up, I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
He looked back at me with smoldering eyes and tousled hair. “I care about her too, ya know.”
I thought they were just make-out buddies. “You do?” I questioned. Now was as good a time as any to probe him for info.
He smirked. “She’s a bitch to me, keeps me in my place. I like that about her. She’s… one of a kind.”
Did he just call my best friend a bitch? But in a weird, cute way? I was choosing to focus on the “one of a kind” comment instead, because that was super sweet.
“She thinks you’re a manwhore,” I told him honestly.
His grin widened. “I know. That’s her pet name for me.”
They had a weird-ass relationship, I’d give them that.
“Come on. Let’s go help her,” he urged.
When we stepped into her room, her fiery gaze pinned Noah to the wall. “Feel free to take your time. It’s not like I’m dying in here or anything.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine. Brielle’s here to heal you.”
Shea’s eyes bugged out, sweat beading her brow. “What? Has she ever done this before?”
I winced. “Not really, but—”
“But I’m here, and I’m the best healer this school has. And a wonderful teacher.” Noah winked at Shea.
Shea scoffed. “I’m glad your ego is still alive and thriving. Just hurry. It feels like it’s going to fall off.”
Oh God. The walls are closing in. I’m going to faint. I can’t do this.
“Ready?” Noah asked.
I gulped. “Of course.”
Rule number 1 of healing: Act confident even if you’re scared shitless. A scared patient is a bad situation.
Noah positioned himself over my right shoulder with his hand on my lower back, pushing me closer to Shea. I sat next to her in the healer’s chair, where Noah, or one of the other healers usually sat.
She gave me that look that said “if you mangle my arm, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Bitch, I’ve got this,” I told her confidently.
That made her lips curl. “You better, or you owe me a box of Cloud Nine Donuts.”
Ha! That would be my entire two-week paycheck. “Deal.”
Noah dropped a bucket at my feet.
Frowning, I looked up at my teacher. “What’s that for?”
“You’ll see. Activate your healing centers, and I’ll guide you through the rest,” Noah instructed.
Activate my healing centers. No big deal.
I stared at my palms, and then to the Raphael tattoo on my forearm. Wake up. I pushed the thought to my hands. I’d done it a whopping three times in my life, so I was hoping it still worked.
“Relax. Your power will automatically reveal itself in the presence of someone injured,” Noah assured me.
I knew that.
I let my hand hover over Shea’s bubbled and angry red arm; the skin stretched so taut it looked like it might burst. Sure enough, my palm started to heat up, emitting a faint orange glow.
“It’s working!” I tried not to sound too rookie, but I was pretty excited.
“Of course it is.” Cool, calm and collected. That was Noah.
The orange healing light was different from the Celestial light we learned about in class with Fred. The Celestial light could be used as a weapon, this was always a healing tool.
“Now, assess her injury with your power, and take it into you. Not too much, and not too fast—like Lincoln did with your tattoos. Just go easy, or you’ll be in worse shape than her.”
Yeah, he’d lovingly drilled that into my head every day for the past four months. Low and slow was the healer motto. Healers couldn’t heal without taking on the malady themselves; it was a Catch-22. The stronger the healer, the more serious the injury they could take on. If a beginner healer tried to heal a person dying of a knife wound, that healer could die. Noah was the strongest among all of the healers apparently, which made him the master teacher.
I started my breathing techniques, in and out. When I went in, I sucked a little of Shea’s burn into me, through my hands. I knew it was working the second the stinging sensation lit up the veins in my arm.
My eyelids snapped open. “It burns.”
“I feel a bit better,” Shea confessed.
Maybe I wasn’t going to screw this up.
Noah rested a hand on my back. “Good, now breathe through it. Your body was made for this. The blood of the Archangel of Healing runs through your veins. With training and focus, there’s no sickness you can’t expunge.”
I was supposed to concentrate, but at his words, my father popped into my mind. “Can you heal cancer?” I asked randomly.
Shea squirmed in her seat, and Noah looked uncomfortable. “Cancer is… difficult to explain. We can talk about this in detail another time, okay?”
He knew. He must’ve read my file too, because he was giving me that pity look. I just nodded.
Focus, you idiot. Shea needs you.
Closing my eyes, I placed my other hand over Shea’s arm. Taking in a deep breath, I sucked more of the injury in through my palm.
If someone had given me the ability to choose any superpower, it wouldn’t be flying, although that was pretty great. It wouldn’t be manifesting a million dollars, although that would be great too. It would be to end human suffering from illness. Watching my father, the strongest member of my family, be reduced to skin and bones, to lose his dignity, to cry out in pain, it was life-altering. If I could learn to take that from people, I would.
If practicing and becoming stronger could afford me the ability to be a great healer like Noah, then that’s the path I wanted to take after school. I didn’t want to be some raging soldier, with a high demon-kill record like Lincoln. I wanted to heal people. And not just people who were deemed ‘worthy’—I wanted to heal anyone. Whoever was hurt or suffering deserved an end to that. I didn’t realize until right then just how passionate I was about it.
“Slow down there, killer,” Noah said, tapping my arm.
My eyes snapped open, and suddenly the pain of a thousand burning suns ripped through my body. Nausea rolled into me and I whimpered. Looking down, I saw Shea’s entire arm glowing with a powerful orange light. My healing light.
Her injury was completely gone. I did that.
Noah sighed. “You overdid it, as I thought you would.”
I grabbed my stomach, groaning again. My mouth watered with the nausea. I was going to be sick.
Noah grabbed the back of my neck, and lightly pushed my head down over the bucket between my legs. “Out with it, before it starts doing damage.”
“Wh—” Then I vomited, burning-hot, green acid into the bucket. Twice.
When I was done, I wiped my mouth, and looked up at Noah. “Holy shit. How is that possible?”
So many questions. For starters, how did the acid go through my veins, into my stomach, and out my throat without damaging me?
He chuckled. “I told you, your body was made to heal, and you have a natural talent for it. I hope you’ll think about majoring in healing studies next year.”
I just nodded, then looked at Shea. “Does this mean you owe me Cloud Nine Donuts?”
“That was not the deal.” She answered with a smirk.
Noah leaned over the bed, and kissed Shea’s lips, pulling back only a few inches. “Cloud Nine Donuts are on me, beautiful. I gotta see if Lincoln needs help.” He stood and left the room.
Shea’s gaze followed him through the door with confusion, lips puckered, eyes squinted.
“He likes you. Like likes you, likes you,” I teased.
She frowned. “He’s never kissed me outside of his car. That was weird.”
I tried to breathe through the last of my lingering nausea. “He said you were a bitch to him, and he liked that you always called him out.” Did I translate that right?