Sunny - Mona Lisa Eclipsing

“We do not get infections,” I said as I felt the gentle flare of Hannah’s power. “Our body naturally heals our injury. He should have been half healed by now.”

Agent Stanton snorted. “Then why hasn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” I said, watching Hannah.

Agent Stanton and the doctor, whose name tag read Dr. T. Hubert , came around the bed to stand next to me, and saw most clearly what was happening as Hannah swept her hands down Jarvis’s arms. Wherever her hands touched, the wounds healed into perfect unblemished skin, but only for a second. As soon as her hands moved on, the healed skin quickly melted back into angry, raw wounds.

“Dear lord!” gasped Dr. Hubert. At his words and expression, the rest of the onlookers crowded closer for a better view.

“Everyone stay where you are,” Agent Stanton ordered sharply. “Agents Dutton and Maloney—over here.”

The two agents made their way over to Stanton, McManus following behind them.

“I’m his attorney,” McManus said, returning Stanton’s glare. His jaw dropped, however, when he caught sight of what Hannah was doing to Jarvis’s hands—the all too brief, temporary healing.

Hannah lifted her hands to Jarvis’s unburned chest, hovered a moment over his heart, then moved her fingers down his abdomen.

“Is it the gel smeared over his skin, Hannah?” I asked. “Is it interfering with the healing?”

Pain and sadness darkened her compassionate eyes as she drew her hands away. “No, milady,” Hannah said. “He’s too injured for me to heal . . . too weak.”

“Weak? How can he be too weak?” I asked. “He was powerful enough to be a threat to his Queen. Powerful enough to do a partial shift of just his arms.”

“What energy he had, he used in their escape from the fire. He does not have any reserves left to heal himself. Mona Lisa . . . he’s dying.”

Kelly made a choked sound.

“I didn’t know we could die from burn wounds,” I said, astonished. Other than sun poisoning, I thought we could be killed only by having our heads severed or our hearts removed. Jarvis’s head and heart were obviously intact.

“Neither did I. His heart is severely damaged—much like Amber’s was when you first met him, almost dying from the punishment his Queen inflicted on him.”

Hannah was talking about sunlight. Amber’s former Queen had roasted Amber in bright sunlight. Was heat the common element? Had the burning heat of fire done to Jarvis what several hours of direct sunlight had done to Amber?

“There’s nothing you can do?” I asked.

“No, I’m sorry, milady. It’s beyond my ability—his heart and other organs are starting to shut down. He will start to fade soon. It’s been too many years since he has Basked and it has weakened him.”

“You and your family didn’t appear weak, and you were rogues for twenty years. He’s only been without a Queen’s light for three years.”

“We did weaken, but none of us were ever injured as severely as Jarvis. If we were, we might not have recovered, even with my healing talent.”

“Who the hell are you people?” Agent Stanton said in a blustery demand.

“Quiet, please,” I said. “I need to think.”

The FBI agent bristled like a rooster. “I demand an explanation.”

“I’ll be happy to give you one,” I said sharply, “but I’d like to see first if there’s a way to save this man—if that’s all right with you? Or do you not care if he lives or dies?”

“Your healer just said she can’t save him,” Dr. Hubert said, subdued, all his anger gone, eyeing us with curiosity and wariness now.

“Please, milady Queen,” said Jarvis. “I don’t mind dying. But Kelly—she’s innocent. I’ve told her nothing of us. Please, I beg you to keep her safe from our people.” Placing his injured hands on the floor with a squishy sound, he abased himself before me.

Kelly cried out and reached for him, but there was no safe place to put her hand. His back and shoulders were as raw and damaged as his poor arms and hands, and his head was too far away, bowed down at my feet.

I hadn’t been flustered before—excited and nervous, yes, but not flustered like I was now.

People gasped. I felt my face flushing. “Um, Jarvis?”

“Yes, milady Queen.”

“You have my word. Kelly will not be harmed. Now, please get up off the floor.”

Jarvis slowly lifted up and rose to his feet. The relief I had started to feel evaporated as the sheet across his lap fell to the floor, leaving him naked in front of me.

He was a couple of inches taller than me, I noted, and fairly big. Maybe I should have been wary or frightened of him, a Monère warrior who was wounded, and therefore at his most dangerous. My men would certainly have had a conniption fit. But looking into those oddly defenseless, guileless blue eyes, it wasn’t fear I felt, just more embarrassment—on his behalf and mine.

Carefully keeping my eyes fixed on Jarvis’s face and chest, I bent and retrieved the fallen sheet, draping it low around him like a towel, keeping it below the burns ending just above his buttocks.

Kelly grasped the sheet behind him, and I left it to the girl to preserve her companion’s modesty, more for our sakes than his—like most Monère he didn’t seem to mind being naked. “Jarvis, can you lie back down on the bed, or would you prefer to sit in a chair?”

“A chair, please,” said Jarvis.

Kelly brought her chair forward, and Jarvis eased himself down onto it.

Laying my hand on his chest, I drew away the additional pain the movement had caused, and he sighed a breath of relief. “Thank you, milady Queen.”

“You can call me Mona Lisa, or just milady.”

He nodded, ducking his head in a shy gesture that I thought hugely ironic. Flashing a roomful of people didn’t faze him the slightest, but being allowed to address me by name made him shy. It made me want to crush the neck of the idiot Queen who had turned him rogue. He was a gallant blend of meekness, courage, and odd innocence. He would never be a threat to her or any other woman. His friend Kelly, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter for all that he sought to protect her. Though she was young, she had a toughness in her eyes that he lacked. I wondered if that was their relationship: he protected her physically, but she watched over him in all other ways.

I closed my eyes a moment to shut out all the distraction. I had a choice here. I could let Jarvis die. His death would not hurt our cause; it might even help it, cementing his heroism in the public eye. Or I could try to save him, and in doing so, show more than I had intended this first round and risk alienating people, frightening humans, and outraging Monère.

But I had no choice, really. I could not stand by and let this valiant rogue die when I had the means and ability to save him. I could only try to do it in the least shocking way possible. Grabbing him and running was out of the question; the bright rays of the morning sun outside would finish Jarvis off. It would have to be here, in front of witnesses.

I turned to Agent Stanton. He was the real authority I had to deal with here. “I can save him and heal him,” I told Stanton, “and everyone can stay and watch, but I will need the help of one of my men. He’ll be unarmed and won’t make any trouble as long as your men don’t make any threatening moves like drawing their guns.”

“Our guns will stay in their holsters,” Stanton said, “as long as your guy doesn’t make any aggressive moves in turn.”

“He won’t. I would appreciate it if you can inform the policemen stationed outside.”

Stanton nodded to the agent next to him, and the man began winding his way through the crowd.