Seventeen
Eve had greeted nearly everyone before she
noticed Allie’s boyfriend, Matt, sitting by himself just outside
the glass doors that separated the burn unit’s waiting area from
the treatment rooms beyond. The receptionist had told her that
Allie and her mother were with the doctor, going over last-minute
details, and that she would let Eve know when it was time to join
them. She settled into the seat beside Matt to wait.
He had short, spiky blond hair and the solid build
of a line-backer. Over the past year Eve had gotten to know him and
discovered his heart was also solidly built. He and Allie had been
high school sweethearts, and at the risk of losing his football
scholarship, he’d taken the year off from college to be by her side
as she recovered.
In the days immediately following the fire, when
Allison was still in critical condition and visitors were limited
to immediate family, Matt had camped out in the waiting room and
made coffee runs and trips to the hospital cafeteria so her parents
didn’t have to leave her side. When he was finally allowed to see
her, he’d held her hand through excruciatingly painful dressing
changes and brought her smoothies when she couldn’t chew and read
to her when she couldn’t sleep. Everyone said how lucky Allie was
to have Matt, but whenever he looked at Allison or talked about
her, Eve could see in his eyes how lucky Matt thought he was to
have Allie.
“How is she?” Eve asked him.
“Pretty good,” Matt replied. “A little worried, I
think, but hanging in there. And trying not to show she’s worried,
for her parents’ sake. You know how Allie is.”
“She’s a trooper, all right,” Eve agreed.
“I think the doc is in there right now giving her
an idea of what to expect.”
His expression was hopeful. Maybe too hopeful based
on case histories she’d come across in researching the fire
story.
“That’s good,” she told him. “After all, Dr. Abrams
has been through this hundreds, maybe even thousands of
times.”
“Yeah. I just hope that . . . I mean, I know we
can’t expect, you know, for her to be exactly the way she was
before, but I just keep hoping . . .” He trailed off, shrugging and
staring at the toes of his sneakers, suddenly looking awkward and
younger than his twenty years.
Eve said the words so he didn’t have to. “You hope
she looks like the Allison you fell in love with.”
“No,” he blurted, swinging his horrified gaze her
way. “I mean, yes, I guess that is what I hope, but not for me, not
because I want the girl I fell in love with back . . . I just want
Allison. I can’t even stand to think about how close I came to
losing her . . . how it could have been her who . . .”
He stood, shoved his hands in his pockets, looking
ready to bolt, and then sat back down and jiggled one
blue-jean-clad leg restlessly. “I know Allison sometimes wishes it
could have been her and not Cassie who . . .”
Eve nodded understandingly.
“I sort of get that,” he continued. “And I would
never say this to Allie or to her folks, but I thank God every
night that it was her who made it out of there. I wouldn’t want to
live without her.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being thankful the
woman you love is alive,” Eve assured him.
“Well, right or wrong, that’s how I feel. And yeah,
I do hope the grafts took perfectly and she looks like she used to
look, but not for me. I swear to you that I’ll love her just the
same no matter what she looks like. I want it for her.” He hunched
forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “It’s going to be
tough enough for her to get up every morning and look in the mirror
and see Cassie’s face looking back at her. But I think it’ll be
even harder if there are scars to remind her why Cassie’s not
around and how bad that last night was. Maybe if the scars aren’t
that bad, then someday, not right away, but someday, she’ll look in
the mirror and remember only Cassie, only the good stuff.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she threw her arm
around his shoulders to give him a quick hug.
“Does that make sense?” he asked her.
“Perfect sense. And if Dr. Abrams is half as good
as they say he is, you could get your wish. All we can do now is
keep our fingers crossed.”
Dr. Abrams, the plastic surgeon who’d grafted new
skin onto Allison’s forehead and left cheek and down the left side
of her neck, specialized in treating facial burns. Patients and
colleagues alike used words like “genius” and “miracle worker” to
describe him. For Allie’s sake, Eve prayed they were right.
Matt’s words haunted her.
On her office bulletin board, she had a picture of
Allison and Cassidy taken the summer before their freshman year.
They’d just returned from a marathon off-to-college shopping trip
and were sitting on their front porch drowning in stuff—shopping
bags and shoe boxes, oversized pillows and a mini fridge, and
matching lamps with beaded fringed shades. Pink for Cassie and
lavender for Allison. Just a couple of pretty, blue-eyed blondes
with flawless skin and perfect teeth and a nightmare waiting for
them just around the corner.
Allie once told her that she knew that as long as
she lived, there would be a Cassie-sized hole in her world. Eve had
wanted to tell her she was wrong, that time heals all wounds, but
she couldn’t lie. Instead, she told her that time would dull the
ache of her loss, and as impossible as it seemed to her at that
moment, a day would come when it wasn’t the first thing she thought
of when she woke up and the last thing before she fell asleep. But
there would always be a hole in her world where her sister should
be; it would be right beside her wherever she went, like a shadow,
like the missing limb of an amputee that goes on hurting long after
it’s not there anymore.
Matt’s words haunted her, and it wasn’t until she
was in the treatment room with Allie and her mother that she
realized she’d been only half right when she said the only thing
they could do now was keep their fingers crossed. It was true that
all he could do was cross his fingers and perhaps pray for the best
possible outcome. But if she chose to, she might be able to do
considerably more.
The question was, should she?
She didn’t have time to mull over the potential
consequences or debate the moral and ethical fine points of using
magic to tweak reality and give back to Allie a little of what had
been taken from her.
Hazard was right: rejecting magic was her way of
atoning for her mistakes. But what if there was a better way?
Dr. Abrams was already loosening the special tape
securing the bandage on Allie’s forehead. She was seated on the
examining table facing him, with Eve and Olivia Snow standing on
the other side of the table.
Her father had opted to wait outside. He’d pleaded
a weak stomach, but throughout this whole ordeal, Eve had never
seen a hint of squeamishness in Daniel Snow. She surmised it wasn’t
the sight of soiled bandages or raw scars that scared him, but the
fresh pain and disappointment he might see in his little girl’s
eyes. She’d already been through so much. They all had. For better
or worse, Allison’s face would be an ever-present reminder of
Cassie for her parents too. The invisible waves of hope and fear
coming from her mother were every bit as strong as what she was
picking up from Allie herself. How could she not do everything in
her power to help them?
She was still opposed to magic. At least she
thought she was. It had all become so complicated. Once her
opposition had been drawn with sharp, bold stokes, as black and
white as a pureblood Dalmatian, as black and white as magic itself;
now there were patches of gray, and in places the lines between
black and white had blurred until they were almost impossible to
see.
She’d been willing to break her own rules to help
Hazard because she believed he’d been wronged and deserved a second
chance. Didn’t Allie deserve the same?
Of course she did. If there was a moral, righteous
reason for an innocent nineteen-year-old girl to be permanently
disfigured, Eve wasn’t interested in hearing it. At that moment her
only reservations were of a more logistical bent. What if by
altering just the tiniest bit of the fabric of reality, a swatch no
bigger than, say, Allison Snow’s face, she was screwing with some
elaborate, finely woven and minutely detailed cosmic plan to
benefit all mankind. Fate, in other words.
On the other hand, if there actually was a grand
cosmic scheme, she had a part in it just like everyone else. She
was a cog in the wheel, and for all she knew it was her cogly duty
to use the power she’d been born with to help Allison. It might be
her mission to correct some other cog’s screwup. If she had the
courage.
She remembered what Grand had said about a prophecy
being only a possibility, that there was still a choice. There was
a choice to be made here too.
Her head was beginning to hurt. And time was
tick-tick-ticking away. If she was going to act, she better do it
fast. It seemed to Eve that someone far wiser and more experienced
than she was ought to be making the call, but that someone wasn’t
here. Her vote was the only one that counted, and she voted to give
Allison the break she deserved.
Her decision made, Eve hung the “Second Thoughts
Need Not Apply” sign and focused her attention on the light over
Dr. Abrams’s left shoulder, tuning out everything else.
When her thoughts had quieted, she conjured an
image of Allison as she appeared in the photo in her office,
consciously filling in one detail at a time until the image in her
mind’s eye was as close as she could possibly make it to the way
Allie must have looked on the day the picture was taken, bright
with happiness and anticipation, her chin high, her cheeks flushed
with laughter. When the image was solidly in place, Eve gathered
her power from deep within and released it, willing it to flow to
Allison. Immediately she felt a change in the air between
them.
“Is it me, or is it getting very warm in here?”
Allison asked, evidence she felt something too. It was the first
time she’d spoken since the doctor began his work and her voice
trembled.
“It’s just nerves, honey,” her mother soothed. “Try
to relax.”
“Always listen to your mom,” Dr. Abrams teased
without taking his eyes off what he was doing. “And don’t you dare
faint on me.”
“I won’t,” Allie promised. “I just felt weird for a
second. Guess I am a little nervous.”
“That’s natural,” the doctor assured her. “Just
remember what we talked about. Today is only the next step on what
could be a long road. We’re not expecting to find perfection under
these bandages, only progress. There may be things we’ll need to
adjust, or maybe even redo.” In a lighter tone, he added, “Don’t
worry; I have all kinds of magic tricks up my sleeve.”
That makes two of us, Eve thought
wryly.
“Eve?”
“I’m right here, Allison.”
“Would you mind . . . do you think you could hold
my hand?” She turned her hand palm up on the paper-covered
examining table.
“Of course.” Eve took her hand and felt the
physical connection strengthen the invisible flow of energy. Her
focus was clear and strong and pure, her single intention to use
her power to restore the natural order.
Let what once was, be again, she thought,
over and over.
The words were both simple and profound. She
couldn’t restore all that Allie had lost; she couldn’t give her
what she wanted most. She couldn’t bring Cassie back. The best she
could provide was a true image of herself—and her sister—when she
looked in a mirror, and whatever peace of mind that brought her in
the days and years to come.
There was silence in the room. Everyone present
understood the significance of the next few moments; idle chatter
would not be welcome.
Finally Dr. Abrams peeled away the first bandage,
the one covering Allison’s forehead, and dropped it on the steel
procedure table at his side. He stood very still and blinked
several times; he and the nurse assisting him exchanged a quick
look that could mean anything.
Allison caught it too. “What?” she demanded. “What
is it? Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Abrams assured her. “So far, so
good.”
“Hold still, Allie,” instructed the nurse.
He worked more quickly after that. Probably anxious
to see what was under the remaining gauze, Eve thought. He wasn’t
alone. From where she was standing, Eve could see only the back of
Allison’s head. Trying to curb her impatience, she concentrated on
concentrating. The bandage covering Allie’s cheek was removed next,
followed by the one on her neck. All the while, Allie’s grip on her
hand became steadily tighter . . . and damper.
Without shifting his intense gaze from Allison, Dr.
Abrams reached behind him to pull the wall-mounted light closer. As
he carefully examined her face, it looked to Eve as if he was doing
his best not to look surprised. Like a man who’d just had the
antiseptic white tile jerked out from under him, she thought.
“Amazing,” he said quietly.
“Good amazing or bad amazing?” Allison asked.
“Good. Very, very good actually,” he told
her.
“So good I almost can’t believe it,” added the
nurse.
The doctor picked up a hand mirror and held it out
to her. “See for yourself, Allison.”
Allison let go of Eve’s hand to take the mirror; a
deep breath lifted her shoulders as she positioned it to see her
face.
As she moved, Eve caught a quick glimpse of one
side of her forehead and thought it looked a little red, but
smooth.
Seconds ticked by like hours, and Allie didn’t say
a word. Then she squealed, a loud sound of unmistakable joy and
relief, and she bounded off the table and across the room to the
larger mirror hanging on the wall.
She stared at herself in the mirror and touched her
cheek, and then she lifted her chin and turned her head back and
forth several times.
“Wow,” she said softly. “Oh . . . wow.”
“Allison, honey, turn around so we can—” Olivia
Snow gasped as Allie turned to face them. She clasped her hands
over her mouth, tears spilling. “Oh, dear Lord, thank you. It’s a
miracle, I swear.”
Allison looked beautiful. She looked . . . like
Allison.
Reality bends to desire, thought Eve, no
less amazed because she understood more than the others possibly
could what had just happened.
There were tears and hugs and laughter, and then
Matt and Allison’s father were there and there were more hugs. Dr.
Abrams was thanked again and again, and he continued to look a bit
stunned. When Allie was eventually allowed to go out to the crowded
waiting room, there were more gasps, followed quickly by
cheers.
Eve looked around for Hazard, who had only
reluctantly allowed her out of his sight, and she spotted him
standing across the room with several firefighters. She felt a
telltale little lurch of her heart when their eyes met and the
corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. There was something
different about the way he was looking at her. It might simply be
that he was smiling at her, after having spent most of the day
doing his best to appear aloof as if he hadn’t enjoyed last night
and wished it had never happened. She wasn’t buying it. He might
wish it hadn’t happened, for some mysterious reason known only to
him, but he had enjoyed it. He’d wanted her last night the
same way she’d wanted him—against all reason. And that morning,
when he opened his bedroom door and saw her, he’d wanted her all
over again, the same way she’d wanted him.
Crossing the room to join him proved to be like
swimming against the tide as nearly everyone there crowded closer
to marvel at Allie and congratulate her. Dr. Abrams’ latest triumph
had the entire unit abuzz, and a steady stream of nurses and
doctors appeared to see it for themselves. Matt was sent to fetch
the cake Olivia had brought along to celebrate the occasion, in the
fervent hope there would be something to celebrate.
It was the sort of joyous,
heart-and-soul-satisfying moment life doesn’t dole out too often,
and Eve was still savoring the high an hour later when she and
Hazard left the burn center and all those happy revelers who had no
idea they were celebrating not—as they repeated over and over to
each other—a miracle of modern medicine, but the power of ancient
blood magic.
She was prepared for regrets, braced for them in
fact, and to be honest, given her track record with magic, a little
après uneasiness wouldn’t be out of order. But she felt only a
sense of peace, and gratitude. Walking beside Hazard to the
elevator, she offered a silent thanksgiving that it had been within
her power to help Allison, and that by the grace of everything good
she’d managed it without any blunders or repercussions. None she
was aware of anyway, and she wasn’t about to go looking.
“Why did you do it?” Hazard asked when they were
alone in the elevator.
Eve kept her expression carefully blank. “Do
what?”
“Play miracle worker.”
He knew. It didn’t really come as a surprise to
her. It might even explain the subtle change she sensed in his
demeanor. That didn’t mean she wanted to discuss it with him right
then and there, before she’d had a chance to sort out her own
feelings. Which she was also in no big hurry to do. She was content
to ride this wave of uncomplicated glee just a little while
longer.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“Yes, you do. I’m not a doctor, but I know that
girl’s face was beyond extraordinary. And unlike everyone else
there, I know it wasn’t an act of God. I . . . felt it. I felt you
. . . your power. The same as I did the night of the auction, and
the feeling is unmistakable . . . like being exhilarated and having
someone swing a hammer inside my skull at the same time,” he
explained, briefly kneading his forehead. “But that’s not the
point. Why did you do it?”
Eve stared at her reflection in the polished steel
elevator door; unlike a mirror, it rendered an image that was
devoid of details and fuzzy around the edges. She thought it
strangely apropos since at the moment she was feeling a little
fuzzy on the inside too. She didn’t want to have to think too
deeply about all this, and she didn’t have to; the answer to his
question was suddenly just there.
She turned and met his waiting gaze. “I didn’t plan
to; it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I did it because someone
I trust a great deal told me that if you can do good in this world,
you ought to. Today I had a chance to do good and I took it. End of
story.”
There was a pause. Eve felt his gaze on her and was
glad when the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
“That someone you trust . . . it was your
grandmother, wasn’t it?” he asked as they stepped out into the
lobby.
Eve glanced at him and nodded. “How did you
know?”
“I hear it in your voice when you talk about her,
and I see it in your eyes.”
His deep voice turned the words into a kind of
verbal caress and her senses tingled accordingly. She couldn’t help
it; it felt good knowing he paid such careful attention and
understood her so well. Encouraged by his interest, she found
herself talking to him about Grand on the walk to the car, and
about her grandfather and his reasons for going to war.
“If he had the courage to risk and sacrifice as
much as he did,” she said, “I figured I ought to be able to rustle
up enough to put my own fear aside and do whatever I could to help
one girl who got dealt a lousy hand.”
“Is that all this was, Eve? A one-time thing? End
of story.”
She gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. If you’d
asked me a few days ago, I would have been able to tell you exactly
how I felt and what I wanted. Of course, a few days ago the
question would never have come up; a few days ago I wouldn’t have
done it, I wouldn’t have dared. As for the future . . .” She
shrugged again. “I guess if we do get the talisman back—”
He broke in. “When we get it back.”
She smiled, aware of how they’d switched sides
since the last time they’d had that little exchange. “When
we get it back, I’ll have to come up with some answers.”
He opened the car door for her and as she got in,
Eve noticed a suitcase on the backseat that she hadn’t noticed
earlier.
She waited until he got in and hitched her thumb
toward the backseat. “Going somewhere?”
“Not exactly.”
Evasion if ever she’d heard it.
“You know, I have that same luggage,” she told him.
The same in that hers was also basic black. Accuracy was
irrelevant; the comment was her way of keeping the subject warm
without appearing too nosy.
“Actually, you don’t,” he countered, backing the
car out of the parking spot. “You have that luggage.”
“Er . . . right. That’s what I said. I have that
same luggage.”
“That is yours,” he said more emphatically.
“That’s your suitcase.”
She whipped her head around for a closer look and
recognized her luggage tag and the black and white checked ribbon
she’d tied to the handle to make it easier to spot amongst all the
other basic black bags on the baggage belt at the airport.
“How did it get in the backseat of your car?” she
asked him.
“Your grandmother packed it for you and then turned
it over to Taggart, who brought it here and left it in my
car.”
“Why?” she asked, leaping directly from not having
a clue what was going on to having so many thoughts and suspicions
circling her brain it was hard to latch on to just one.
“Do you mean why did he bring it here?” he asked,
glancing at her.
She nodded.
“I thought you might want to take a look at what
your grandmother packed in case she missed anything. If she did, we
can stop at a store and pick up whatever you need. I considered not
involving her at all and just buying everything myself, but it
occurred to me you might be more comfortable with your own things.
It’s been a while, but I do remember how particular women can be
about their powders and lotions and whatnot.”
She decided to let that go. “I meant why do I need
a suitcase in the first place.”
“Because I’ve decided you should stay with me until
this is over.”