areas of the building or loved ones to where they could wait for news. No body stood still. All looked tired and bewildered.
Seeing the child in Roque’s arms, a woman in a white dress and a crisp hat sliding off dark hair rushed over, calling out to two men in uniforms to bring over a little padded cart on wheels.
When the girl had been settled, Edeen looked up at the woman and gasped. “Charity.”
The woman blinked at her as she tiredly pushed back loose strands off her hair that had come out of her bun. She looked so much like Charity, Edeen was stunned into silence.
“We’ll take good care of her. Is she yours?”
Edeen didn’t answer. The events of the day and now this were wearing on her.
“No,” Roque filled in. “We found her in a fallen house. Her mother was dead beside her.”
The woman blanched but quickly recovered, steeling her spine and nodded. Her gaze lowered to Edeen’s bare feet.
“Come with me. There’s a bit of a loll. Let me see what you’ve done to yourself.”
Roque followed her gaze down and it seemed as though the life the past hours had sucked from him flooded back. “My gods. Edeen, I didn’t think…”
She took his hand. “’Tis only cuts and bruising. There were more urgent concerns.”
Roque’s frown suggested he wasn’t going to take her absolution so easily.
“Come,” the woman beckoned, but before Edeen could take one step, Roque swept her up into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have realized.”
Nay, he was definitely not going to let it go. “What is this place? A convent?”
“A con--?” He looked around at all the women scurrying about in the same white dresses and crisp headwear and smiled. ‘Twas good to see and filled her with a different kind of warmth than what his dragon fire provided.
“This is a place of healing. Those women are all nurses.” His forehead drew tight. “The doctors, I guess, are all occupied.”
The nurse took them to a small cluttered room with a desk of metal where Roque settled her into a wooden slatted chair. The nurse got right to business, kneeling and taking Edeen’s foot in her palms. Her manner was so like Charity’s, Edeen stared at the top of her head.
The nurse swabbed the worst of the cuts with puffed linen and some substance that stung, yet Edeen felt the trace stirrings of a healing, though the nurse acted as though naught was happening.
“Ye’re a Healer Sorceress?”
The woman’s head snapped up so abruptly ‘twas a wonder her head remained attached. Her eyes were wide as though her healing ability was a deep secret.
Edeen wrinkled her brow. ‘Twas a place devoted to healing, was it not? “Should there not be healers here?”
The nurse gave her a wry look-over. “None in our family has been called Healer Sorceress for a long time.” She stared at Edeen a while longer, taking her measure and then glanced up at Roque to find confirmation of what she must suspect.
Edeen was not sure what passed between them. She was lost in the subtleties of what could be spoken of magic and what could not here. Gremlins and vampires were accepted easily, yet apparently a healer needed to keep her skills hidden.
Mayhap it had to do with Hitler seeking magical wielders for his own dark purposes. A group of ghouls or gremlins had a chance of withstanding soldiers. A healer alone did not.
Her feet tingled as a flow of magic reknit the flesh around the worst of the wounds.
The nurse’s forehead was tight. Shadows smudged beneath her eyes. “I’ve taken care of the worse. The rest will heal on their own. My gift isn’t so strong as others, and I’m trying to help as many as I can, though…” Her skin grayed, showing a glimpse of the despair she held back by a tenuous thread. “…there’s so many.”
Edeen reached down and took her hand. “Thank you. I’m sure whatever ye’re able to do for any of them makes a difference.”
She nodded. “I just wish I had more to give.”
Seeing the child in Roque’s arms, a woman in a white dress and a crisp hat sliding off dark hair rushed over, calling out to two men in uniforms to bring over a little padded cart on wheels.
When the girl had been settled, Edeen looked up at the woman and gasped. “Charity.”
The woman blinked at her as she tiredly pushed back loose strands off her hair that had come out of her bun. She looked so much like Charity, Edeen was stunned into silence.
“We’ll take good care of her. Is she yours?”
Edeen didn’t answer. The events of the day and now this were wearing on her.
“No,” Roque filled in. “We found her in a fallen house. Her mother was dead beside her.”
The woman blanched but quickly recovered, steeling her spine and nodded. Her gaze lowered to Edeen’s bare feet.
“Come with me. There’s a bit of a loll. Let me see what you’ve done to yourself.”
Roque followed her gaze down and it seemed as though the life the past hours had sucked from him flooded back. “My gods. Edeen, I didn’t think…”
She took his hand. “’Tis only cuts and bruising. There were more urgent concerns.”
Roque’s frown suggested he wasn’t going to take her absolution so easily.
“Come,” the woman beckoned, but before Edeen could take one step, Roque swept her up into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have realized.”
Nay, he was definitely not going to let it go. “What is this place? A convent?”
“A con--?” He looked around at all the women scurrying about in the same white dresses and crisp headwear and smiled. ‘Twas good to see and filled her with a different kind of warmth than what his dragon fire provided.
“This is a place of healing. Those women are all nurses.” His forehead drew tight. “The doctors, I guess, are all occupied.”
The nurse took them to a small cluttered room with a desk of metal where Roque settled her into a wooden slatted chair. The nurse got right to business, kneeling and taking Edeen’s foot in her palms. Her manner was so like Charity’s, Edeen stared at the top of her head.
The nurse swabbed the worst of the cuts with puffed linen and some substance that stung, yet Edeen felt the trace stirrings of a healing, though the nurse acted as though naught was happening.
“Ye’re a Healer Sorceress?”
The woman’s head snapped up so abruptly ‘twas a wonder her head remained attached. Her eyes were wide as though her healing ability was a deep secret.
Edeen wrinkled her brow. ‘Twas a place devoted to healing, was it not? “Should there not be healers here?”
The nurse gave her a wry look-over. “None in our family has been called Healer Sorceress for a long time.” She stared at Edeen a while longer, taking her measure and then glanced up at Roque to find confirmation of what she must suspect.
Edeen was not sure what passed between them. She was lost in the subtleties of what could be spoken of magic and what could not here. Gremlins and vampires were accepted easily, yet apparently a healer needed to keep her skills hidden.
Mayhap it had to do with Hitler seeking magical wielders for his own dark purposes. A group of ghouls or gremlins had a chance of withstanding soldiers. A healer alone did not.
Her feet tingled as a flow of magic reknit the flesh around the worst of the wounds.
The nurse’s forehead was tight. Shadows smudged beneath her eyes. “I’ve taken care of the worse. The rest will heal on their own. My gift isn’t so strong as others, and I’m trying to help as many as I can, though…” Her skin grayed, showing a glimpse of the despair she held back by a tenuous thread. “…there’s so many.”
Edeen reached down and took her hand. “Thank you. I’m sure whatever ye’re able to do for any of them makes a difference.”
She nodded. “I just wish I had more to give.”
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