“Or this morning, I don’t know. I woke up and the glass was everywhere and my children were sick.”
“We’ll take the children to the hospital. In the meantime, come with me.” Bran extended a hand toward the woman.
“I want to ride with them to the ER.”
“You will,” Izzy reassured her gently. “As soon as we figure out what’s wrong with them.”
Mrs. Watts hesitated, a haunted look entering her eyes.
Go with him, I projected into her thoughts. Everything will be okay.
She allowed Bran to lead her out of the room. Sykes lifted the cell phone from the dresser and showed it to us. It looked like road kill.
“Unless the demons were here after her kids got sick, I doubt she used this. I’ll check the houseline.” He threw the phone to Remy and left the room.
Remy’s ability to manipulate solids came in handy at a time like this. Within seconds, the cell phone was whole again. He flipped it open and checked the calls.
“There’s no record of a call to the emergency room,” he said.
“So the demons were here before the kids became ill,” Kim said.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe this is the result of food poisoning.” Izzy placed a hand on one of the twins’ chest. She moved to the next child, then the older girl and finally the baby. “Forget I said that. They’re dying.”
“Of what?” Kim mumbled. She stood close to the window as she tried to breathe the fresh air from outside.
“Bone cancer,” Izzy said. “The same illness the oldest had before their mother sold her soul. Why is this happening?”
No one answered her, but my mind started racing. What were the chances of an entire family coming down with the same cancer overnight? Nil. This could be an attempt to scare Mrs. Watts against canceling her contract.
“Can you heal them, Izzy?” I asked.
“I could try.” Izzy placed a hand above the baby’s chest. Aglow started in the middle of her palms and spread until her fingers sparkled. Tiny electrical bolts shot from her hands to the baby, filling her and making her skin iridescent under the pink blanket.
A movement to my right showed Remy getting busy too. He pressed a hand on the plank covering the window. The wood shimmered and grew light and transparent as it transformed from wood to glass. He opened the glass windows to let the stale air out. He moved to the next window.
Sykes appeared in the doorway. “Her phone’s working. She made a call about an hour ago.”
“The paramedics should have been here by now,” Kim murmured in a muffled voice, hand covering both mouth and nose now. “I have to do something. I can’t breathe.” She lifted her hands, creating a soft gust. It swept the stale air out of the room and through the window. Air scented with wild roses drifted inside.
My gaze moved back to the baby Izzy was healing. Color appeared to be returning to his cheeks.
Guys, you need to come to the living room, Bran telepathed us.
What is it? Remy asked.
Mrs. Watts doesn’t remember us. The demons who jerked her house wiped out her memories too.
Only one kind of demon did that. We looked at each other and hurried out of the room. Izzy stayed, her focus on the kids.
Mrs. Watts’ voice reached us before we joined her and Bran in the living room.
“Why should I?” she said, sounding frustrated. “I’m good with faces, and I’m telling you I’ve never met you before. Or them,” she waved toward us as we entered the room. “What does remembering you have to do with my children? Are you the paramedics or the police?” she studied our outfits. “Your uniform is…is…who are you?”
My headache got worse as I listened to them as they tried to convince Mrs. Watts they were the good guys. Then Izzy walked into the room with her youngest.
Mrs. Watts jumped to her feet and plucked the baby from Izzy’s arms. She touched her forehead. “Her fever broke.”
“Izzy healed her,” Bran said and indicated the couch. “Please sit down, Mrs. Watts. We need to finish our talk.”
“Are the others okay?” His gaze clung desperately to Izzy’s face.
“They will be when I’m done with them.” Izzy answered confidently. She glanced at us. Lightning demons did this to her?
We think so, Bran said.
Why? She asked.
We are still trying to figure that out, Bran said. Why don’t you finish with the other children while we figure out how to deal with this?
“I’ll take care of the broken glass while you guys deal with her,” Remy said, drawing our attention.
From her confused expression, Mrs. Watts didn’t understand what Remy meant, until some glass bits lifted from the floor like weightless crystals, while others raced across the floor as though they’d grown legs.
Mrs. Watts screeched and moved back, her little girl clenched in her arms. The child laughed gleefully and wiggled her pudgy fingers, wanting to play with the moving things. The shards coalesced into mirrors, vases, cabinet doors and picture frames. The cracked TV screen shifted and flowed until it was whole again while the discarded toys pooled in the middle of the room.
Bran had explained that we often demonstrated our abilities to convince Damned Humans that we were the good guys, but Mrs. Watts wasn’t impressed. She was totally freaked out.
It’s okay, I reassured her. We’re not here to hurt you. We wouldn’t heal your child if we were bad.
“I’ll take care of the other rooms, then your van,” Remy said. She’s all yours, guys, he telepathed as he left the living room.
“How did he do that?” Mrs. Watts whispered, her gaze following Remy, her arms tightening around her child.
“We already explained who we are, our abilities, and why we are here,” Kim snapped. “Make up your mind already.” She left the room to join Izzy.
“What my friend meant to say was we can’t force you to cancel your contract, Mrs. Watts,” Bran said, leaning forward and flashing his signature, charming smile. He reached inside his coat, pulled out the contract and unrolled it on the coffee table. “You get to decide whether you want to or not.”
She still hesitated. This was taking forever. How in Tartarus had we canceled hundreds of contracts when it took forever to convince one human to make up her mind?
“Mommy!”
Mrs. Watts whipped around as Kim entered the room with the twins. They let go of her hand and ran to their mother. Mrs. Watts fussed over them, touching a cheek here, a nape there, kissing their foreheads.
“Their fevers are gone.” Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face. “Thank you. Thank you for healing them.”
“My friend healed them, Mrs. Watts, not me,” Kim said.
The woman craned her neck and looked expectantly behind Kim. “Where’s my Michele?”
Kim indicated the hallway. “Izzy’s working on her.”
“Stay here,” Mrs. Watts told the twins, then jumped to her feet and ran from the room. The children followed her anyway. The two year old continued to play with her toys, oblivious to the drama.
“How bad is her daughter?” I asked.
“Bad. Izzy can’t heal her, but you know Izzy. She’ll keep trying, until she exhausts her powers.” Kim brushed something off the arm of the sofa and gingerly sat on the edge. She picked up the contract from the table. “She refused to cancel again?”
Bran nodded and scrubbed his face.
“Does it always take this long to convince them, or is her case just special because of her lost memories?” I asked, not masking my frustration.