Lunatics {Book 1 ✔️}

Chapter 22

But normal, in my life, could only last for so long.

I was home alone when the pounding on the door sounded. It was louder than my music and continued until I threw open the door. Four unfamiliar faces stood before me, and one familiar face.

"I need your help," Tucker rushed out. I hadn't seen him since the night at Enigma, and I was still pissed, but now hardly seemed the time to yell at him because of the people standing behind him.

My eyes widened as I took in the sight before me. A young boy and girl were being cradled in the arms of two adults I didn't recognize. The two children couldn't have been more than nine and had huge gaping wounds on their sides and their arms. When I looked closer, the little boy's shoulder wound was leaking a dark blue substance. I had no time to question it.

Without saying a word, I stepped out of the doorway and let the crowd of people into the mansion. I led them into the kitchen and quietly laid a towel out on the island counter. The woman carrying the little boy gently laid him on the towel and the man carrying the girl placed her right next to him.

The woman seemed wary of me as she backed away from the child. Her icy eyes appraised me nervously. Something in them- some feeling- resonated with me. Desperation.

"Tucker, I need towels or sheets and I need you to apply pressure to the open wounds," I instructed as I pulled the antiseptic and first aid kit out of one of the cabinets.

Trying not to gag, I removed the boy's shirt from his writhing body. I put one hand on his stomach and one on the girls and closed my eyes.

"Jonah, right?" I asked the boy with a forced smile, seeing bits of his life flash behind my eyelids. He nodded, his eyes scrunched from the pain.

"And Pilar?"

The little girl nodded, gasping a little.

I heard mutterings from behind me, but I tuned them out. My body and my mind were in a different mode when a tragedy happened.

This was what you were meant to do, a little voice in the back of my head told me. I listened to it.

"You're going to be okay, alright?" I told them. "We're gonna go through this together, and everything is going to be okay."

Their little faces looked up at me and nodded. I heard sobs from behind me, but I didn't turn. Tucker returned with the towels and I washed out their wounds the best I could. I turned to him as I worked.

"Why bring them here?" I asked. "Why not a hospital?"

He hesitated, looking at the two children. "Regular hospitals don't know how to deal with werewolf poisoning. It had to be you."

"They're..." my voice trailed off.

"Werewolves? Yes. They haven't turned yet. They can't heal themselves."

"And the blue..." my voice trailed as I took in the spidery blue veins that surrounded each wound.

"Mistletoe....poison."

Anger filled me as I looked at the two children, writhing in pain. I pushed the anger down and sighed, realizing the weight of his words. Somehow, I needed to tap into the same energy I used when I healed Elias. Of course, that's why he'd brought them to me and of course, I had no idea how to do that. Putting my palms back on the children's stomachs, I gave them both encouraging smiles. Jonah was stoic and unmoving but his eyes were full of tears. Pilar was breathing in short little gasps.

My palms began to feel warm. The burning was back.

"Ready?" I asked them, asking myself at the same time. They nodded. 

Tucker's breathing hitched.

I felt it then, the heat at my core. It was different than last time. Now I knew what I was looking for and I urged it out of me. My eyes shut as I hooked the heat at the bottom of my belly and pulled it throughout my body. Again it felt like flames were licking my fingertips as I pressed my hand against the children. There was a flash of light that I could see from behind my eyelids. A shockwave rang through my fingertips and I stumbled backward. Before I could fall, Tucker rushed forward to catch me in his arms.

Our eyes met and I coughed awkwardly before stepping away from him. I almost stumbled again, feeling nauseous and dizzy. The two adults in the kitchen started yelling and my head whipped in their direction. Dread filled me as I thought something must have gone wrong with the two children.

Relief spread through me when I looked back at them. My vision was fuzzy but I could still see that the wounds had closed. The blue liquid no longer leaked out of them. They were being cradled in the arms of the adults.

"I need to sit down," I whispered faintly to Tucker.

His eyebrows raised and he rushed me to the couch in the living room. Vaguely, I heard celebrations from the kitchen and I smiled. I was exhausted both mentally and physically. It was getting impossible to keep my eyes open. I sunk into the couch and Tucker sat beside me, the anxiety on his face was not well hidden.

"Lou?"

His voice was full of concern.

"I'm okay," I mumbled. "Just need rest."

His eyes darted around my face and I gave him a dopey smile. Whether it was the exhaustion that led me to it or something else, I don't know, but I reached for his hand. A sigh escaped my lips as his fingers interlaced with mine.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

With that, sleep found me.

And it was not peaceful.

I dreamed of an abyss. A hole that never ended and voices that echoed out of the pitch-black calling to me. I stood on the precipice of the darkness and a voice that needed me. It urged me forward, pulled me closer to the edge of the awaiting darkness. My neck craned over to peer down the hole.

The voice became clearer, but it was unfamiliar. It wanted me to jump, dive into the oblivion. My feet prepped for the jump, I bent my knees and took another step forward only inches from the edge.

Then I felt the tug. There was something wrapped around my finger. It was a string. The voice got louder now, commanding me to jump. I tugged my arm away but the gold twine wouldn't let me budge. The commands were coming at a louder crescendo and more forceful, yelling. 

JUMP JUMP JUMP. YOU HAVE TO JUMP.

I wanted to jump, my body wanted to descend into the abyss, let the darkness surround my body and sink into it. I tried yanking the string again, but it was no use. It tethered me to the ground. As the desire to jump became stronger, the tighter the gold string kept me in place. The voice became voices. They were at odds with each other. The string had now begun to wrap itself around the length of my arm, shimmering as it curled itself around my elbow.

One pulled and the other pulled harder. The voices yelled, but I couldn't move. I couldn't make the jump and I couldn't step away from the edge. Stuck.