Christine Feehan: Dark Legend (Dark Series - Book 8)

A slow smile lit up the little girl’s face. “You aren’t going to poke and prod and stick me with needles?”

Francesca returned the smile. “I think we can safely leave that job to Brice.” She took the small hand in hers. The skin was very thin, almost translucent. This child was wasting away. “I’m just going to sit here with you and concentrate. You might feel warm in spots, but it won’t hurt.”

Chelsea’s eyes rested on Francesca’s face, studying her expression before she decided to trust her. She nodded solemnly. “Go ahead, I’m ready.”

Francesca closed her eyes, focused on the child and only the child, driving every other thought from her head. She sent herself seeking outside her own body, becoming as insubstantial as energy, heat and light. Entering the child, she began a slow, careful examination. The child’s blood was a mess. Massive attacks were being launched in the bloodstream and her pitiful antibodies could not possibly make inroads against the invading army. Francesca continued to look at each organ, the tissue and muscle, the brain itself. Sorrow swamped her for a moment, endangering her position within the child’s body. She felt great empathy with this little girl who had suffered for so many years of her young life.

She swayed, blinking rapidly, bringing herself back into her own body. As always, she felt disoriented and weak after an out-of-body experience. She sat for a moment in silence before she looked up at Brice.

“Francesca.” He said her name softly, in great hope. It wasn’t a question. He was a doctor. He knew medically that Chelsea was dying, her body succumbing to the terrible army so ferociously attacking it. He looked exhausted, and sorrow etched his face. He had done everything within his power and it was nowhere near enough.

“Maybe.” Francesca glanced at the clock on the wall. It was three-thirty in the morning. How much time would it take to heal this child, to rid this worn-out body of every scrap of cancer? Would she be able to finish and still make it home before the sun came up? Did it matter? The child’s life was worth the risk. And she didn’t mind walking into the sun.

“Leave me alone with her, Brice, and let me see what I can do.” Francesca stroked back Chelsea’s hair. “You go to sleep, honey, and we’ll see if we can make you a little more comfortable.” She waited until Brice had closed the door before she once more sent herself into the child’s body.

Time meant nothing at all when she worked as a healer. She was in Chelsea’s small human form, holding her safe and warm with her mind, even as her energy fought the terrible battle for Chelsea’s life. She was meticulous in her work, tireless, careful to ensure that not one vestige of the vile disease remained in Chelsea’s body. She had no idea of the hours that passed or of her own strength waning until she found herself faltering, her body wearing out before her spirit had time to finish the task. At once she was flooded with power, a strong surge of enormous energy coming from a source outside her. She accepted the energy without question, certain of the origin. Of course Gabriel would know when she was risking her health; he was tied to her through their blood bond. Naturally he would reach out to help her. He was, after all, a male Carpathian. There was no deeper meaning to his aid. He certainly wasn’t doing it because he cared for her.

Francesca utilized the energy immediately, grateful even though she wanted nothing to do with Gabriel. Only one thing mattered: healing Chelsea’s worn-out body and restoring her to good health. When she was certain she had eradicated every last bit of disease, Francesca returned to her own body.

She was breathing heavily, trembling from head to toe. For a moment she remained slumped over the little girl, slowly recovering from the difficult task she had set herself. Added to the drain of healing was the effort necessary to shield her activity from all outsiders. Over the years she had learned to put up a barrier to hide the surge of power from Carpathians and vampires alike.

Glancing up at the clock, she realized it was nearly five in the morning. She had to get home. As tired as she was, it wouldn’t do to be caught out when the sun came up. As often as she said it didn’t matter, Francesca was still secretly afraid of dying in such a painful way. Gabriel had seen to it that the sun could harm her again.

“It was not intentional, sweetheart.” “But the result is the same.”

Brice was waiting for her, leaning against the wall just outside the door. “So, could you help her?”

“I hope so.” Francesca was noncommittal even though she knew very well the child would recover fully. “Please do me the courtesy of not mentioning me to anyone. Really, Brice, we had an agreement. I can’t afford to have people knocking down my door expecting miracles. Give her a day or two before you perform any tests on her. You know I hate publicity. You take the credit if it works.”

He fell into step beside her. “I’m off. Would you like to have breakfast? A little thank you for staying up all night for one of my patients.”

Francesca pushed back the heavy fall of her blue-black hair. “I’m tired, Brice. You know it always wears me out.”

“If I knew what you did, maybe I could help and you wouldn’t get so tired,” he teased. “You walked here, didn’t you? Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.” He took her arm and led her to his car.

Francesca went willingly. It would only take minutes to get home by car, and she was exhausted. Settling into the leather seat, she snapped her seat belt in place automatically and smiled up at him. “You do like your luxury, Brice.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I know what I want and I go after it.” His dark eyes moved over her suggestively.

“Don’t start,” she cautioned, a laugh in her voice. “What is it with you, Brice? I’ve told you over and over we can’t see each other.”

“We see each other every day, Francesca,” he pointed out with a grin. “We do quite well seeing each other.”

“I’m too tired to argue with you. Just take me home and be nice.”

“What did you do with the old man? You’ve got to quit picking people up off the street, Francesca. That’s why you need me. You’re too nice for your own good. Sooner or later you’re going to pick up an ax murderer.”

“I don’t think there’s much danger of that.” Francesca watched out the window as her house loomed large at the end of the driveway.

“He isn’t in your house, is he?” Brice asked suspiciously as he parked the car and threw his seat belt off. She flashed him a quick smile. “I take it you think I’m going to invite you in.”

Brice rushed around the car to open her door. “I’m definitely going in. I don’t want to find out you’ve got that flea-bitten old man in there. It would be so like you.”

As if on cue, the front door suddenly opened and Gabriel’s large frame filled the doorway. He certainly didn’t look like a flea-bitten old man. Francesca felt the color drain from her face and her heart definitely somersaulted. She glanced uneasily at Brice. Gabriel looked invincible, a predator. He looked capable of eating Brice alive. He stood tall and elegant, his sensual features carefully expressionless. Gabriel looked like a dark prince of old; the power in him was so obvious it clung like a second skin. He was incredibly handsome and she couldn’t help noticing despite her resolve not to do so.

Brice effectively stopped her by grabbing her arm and holding her still. “Who the hell is that?” He actually thrust Francesca behind him protectively.

The gesture was so sweet it brought a lump to her throat. No one had ever been so protective and attentive to her as Brice. No matter how often she rebuffed him, Brice was determined in his pursuit of her.