Chapter One
Miz swerved in and out of traffic as she climbed the ridge on her Harley. A coal truck traveling fast from the other side had lost its brakes, plummeting down the curving road until it crashed and flipped on its side. It was five o’clock in the afternoon and anyone leaving town to head back across the mountain was screwed. No cars were going to get through that way for at least an hour or two.
But she would. She tightened her grip and slowed down as she approached the load of coal blocking the road. Swearing uselessly, one man paced beside the truck. Fifteen or more men, some in suits and ties, were frantically digging with their hands, trying to make a dent in the pile.
Miz inched forward, studying the far right of the road. The truck had belched its contents, scattering coal all the way to the edge of the mountain and pelting the houses below with black dust and stone. She aimed her bike for the narrow gap between piles, intent on leaving the scene behind.
“Get the hell out of here, bitch.” Eldon Brown stepped in her path, reaching for her handlebars. Considering that he was at the top of her despise list, it was a stupid move.
Miz kicked her motor into gear and caught his hand, bending it backward until she felt the wrist pop and he buckled to his knees. Her glove burned hot when she released her grip on him and sped past, aiming her bike again for the narrow path.
“Got him.” A shout went up from the men digging and though she tried to ignore the scene, she could see from the corner of her eye the body being pulled free. Dumbasses. If he wasn’t dead already he would be by the time they finished mauling him. She stopped her bike, set the kickstand and stalked to where the truck driver lay broken and bleeding. “Get the fuck out of my way,” she said, elbowing one of the men. Heat pulsed inside her gloves and she gritted her teeth at the pain.
“Let her through,” Hank Wyatt ordered.
“Jesus, Wyatt. What the hell you think she’s going to do? Ask him how he feels?” Eldon cursed her and her ancestors before he shut up and moved aside.
“I said let her through.”
Miz didn’t look at him or any of the other men muttering insults. She dropped to her knees next to the driver and wiped dust and debris from features so covered in black she didn’t recognize Donnie Haskell until she’d cleared his nose and cleaned his face.
His breathing was shallow, barely discernible, his spirit already reaching for the beyond. Miz shuddered, fighting death as it pulled on him.
“Take off your goddamned gloves and lay hands on him, Miz.” Hank Wyatt had seen her heal a wolf once. They’d been friends and lovers up until that day. “Do it. You know he’ll be dead by the time the ambulance gets here.”
As if she had a choice about what came next. When her healing gift kicked in, the force of its power took charge and Miz was only a servant who obeyed. She swiped her sleeve across her brow, already dripping with sweat. The muttering in the background receded as she concentrated on Donnie, trying to get him stable without frying his brain.
Then she forgot everything as the heat pulsed from her into Donnie’s chest. Her eyes were closed as she saw a haze of dirt and debris clouding his lungs. Her hands lay flat on him but in her mind, they fisted around the dark poison.
Burn ash, burn rubble, burn wood, burn stone… She whispered the words in her mind, watching the murky stain decrease in size until Donnie arched up under her touch, spasming for a moment before he began to choke and cough.
Miz slumped back on her heels, exhausted and sick with the noxious poison she’d sucked out of her patient. Her voice was thick, hardly recognizable when she muttered, “He’s in shock. Keep him warm, Hank. He’ll hold now until the EMT gets here.”
Weakly she staggered up from her crouch and stumbled to her bike. The men opened a path for her but none offered to help her clear the scatter of coal
Miz swerved in and out of traffic as she climbed the ridge on her Harley. A coal truck traveling fast from the other side had lost its brakes, plummeting down the curving road until it crashed and flipped on its side. It was five o’clock in the afternoon and anyone leaving town to head back across the mountain was screwed. No cars were going to get through that way for at least an hour or two.
But she would. She tightened her grip and slowed down as she approached the load of coal blocking the road. Swearing uselessly, one man paced beside the truck. Fifteen or more men, some in suits and ties, were frantically digging with their hands, trying to make a dent in the pile.
Miz inched forward, studying the far right of the road. The truck had belched its contents, scattering coal all the way to the edge of the mountain and pelting the houses below with black dust and stone. She aimed her bike for the narrow gap between piles, intent on leaving the scene behind.
“Get the hell out of here, bitch.” Eldon Brown stepped in her path, reaching for her handlebars. Considering that he was at the top of her despise list, it was a stupid move.
Miz kicked her motor into gear and caught his hand, bending it backward until she felt the wrist pop and he buckled to his knees. Her glove burned hot when she released her grip on him and sped past, aiming her bike again for the narrow path.
“Got him.” A shout went up from the men digging and though she tried to ignore the scene, she could see from the corner of her eye the body being pulled free. Dumbasses. If he wasn’t dead already he would be by the time they finished mauling him. She stopped her bike, set the kickstand and stalked to where the truck driver lay broken and bleeding. “Get the fuck out of my way,” she said, elbowing one of the men. Heat pulsed inside her gloves and she gritted her teeth at the pain.
“Let her through,” Hank Wyatt ordered.
“Jesus, Wyatt. What the hell you think she’s going to do? Ask him how he feels?” Eldon cursed her and her ancestors before he shut up and moved aside.
“I said let her through.”
Miz didn’t look at him or any of the other men muttering insults. She dropped to her knees next to the driver and wiped dust and debris from features so covered in black she didn’t recognize Donnie Haskell until she’d cleared his nose and cleaned his face.
His breathing was shallow, barely discernible, his spirit already reaching for the beyond. Miz shuddered, fighting death as it pulled on him.
“Take off your goddamned gloves and lay hands on him, Miz.” Hank Wyatt had seen her heal a wolf once. They’d been friends and lovers up until that day. “Do it. You know he’ll be dead by the time the ambulance gets here.”
As if she had a choice about what came next. When her healing gift kicked in, the force of its power took charge and Miz was only a servant who obeyed. She swiped her sleeve across her brow, already dripping with sweat. The muttering in the background receded as she concentrated on Donnie, trying to get him stable without frying his brain.
Then she forgot everything as the heat pulsed from her into Donnie’s chest. Her eyes were closed as she saw a haze of dirt and debris clouding his lungs. Her hands lay flat on him but in her mind, they fisted around the dark poison.
Burn ash, burn rubble, burn wood, burn stone… She whispered the words in her mind, watching the murky stain decrease in size until Donnie arched up under her touch, spasming for a moment before he began to choke and cough.
Miz slumped back on her heels, exhausted and sick with the noxious poison she’d sucked out of her patient. Her voice was thick, hardly recognizable when she muttered, “He’s in shock. Keep him warm, Hank. He’ll hold now until the EMT gets here.”
Weakly she staggered up from her crouch and stumbled to her bike. The men opened a path for her but none offered to help her clear the scatter of coal
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