“Really?” Oliver complained. “You have the worst timing, Sammy.”
Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t even be surprised you’re not in your room.”
“Nope,” Oliver agreed.
“Please save me some gray hairs and remove yourself from Lucille’s bed so I can finish healing her.”
“I could appreciate a silver fox.”
“Oliver!” Sam barked.
“Moving.” He lifted his hands in surrender and plopped into the chair next to my bed, a hint of mirth in his tone.
Sam read the clipboard in his hand. “Lucille, I need to perform another diagnostic check. You’ll feel more pressure this time.”
Wonderful.
He touched his amulet, and a gold light erupted in both hands. He raised them above my body, then sent his light into me. The pressure drilled into me more intensely than Amelia’s power, but I handled it. Until my insides started to sting.
I tensed, fisting my sheets.
“It’s okay. Some of your connective tissue was seared, but I’m healing it. I’m almost done.”
Oliver reached for my hand.
“Do not touch her,” Sam chided, sending more of his misleading golden light into my body.
I clenched my teeth for five insanely long seconds before he finished.
“Your power sucks,” I grumbled.
Sam’s lip twitched. “Now you sound like Oliver.”
“Except my reaction was a little more colorful.”
“Yes. That it was,” Sam said, something passing between them that I didn’t understand. He returned his attention to me. “The process of healing isn’t meant to feel good, only the end result. Do you feel a little better?”
“Yes.”
Sam nodded. “Do you want to explain how you burned the inside of your body?”
“I had some outside help. But I’m not entirely sure what happened.”
Sam surveyed me, waiting for me to say more. When I shrugged, he shook his head. “Well, if you know the source. I’d advise avoiding it. If the burns had proceeded any deeper, your organs would’ve been in danger. Luckily, most of your puncture wounds only damaged muscle, cleansing and healing will be quick, and I’ll give you a shot to numb the areas when I stitch.”
Marcus flashed before me, a needle stabbing into my vein. His taunting laughter echoed in my ears as he did it again and again while I was pinned to the metal table.
“No.”
Oliver and Sam both frowned.
“No needles.”
“Lucille, this will be painful,” Sam warned.
Oliver grabbed my hand and squeezed. “What if you just look away, Luce?”
The cold cement room sank into my bones. Marcus jabbed my leg, pulled the needle out, and tried again. Shallow. Deep. Repeating the process until he “got it just right.”
