Keepers of the Flame

“Neither one of them looks like the woman we’ve been having those intense dreams about.” Alexa shrugged, peered at them. Then said, “How long are you going to sit there and let us stare at you and talk about you?”

I vote forever, Bri said to Elizabeth. Hallucinations have to end sometime. Someone will find us in the elevator.

Elizabeth chuckled.

The blond woman’s, Calli’s, eyes narrowed. “Do you get the idea that they’re mentally talking to each other?”

“Twins,” said the short one, Alexa, philosophically. “And they’re very Powerful, you can hear the strength of their Songs. Telepathy might be the first thing they notice.”

Good guess, Elizabeth said to Bri.

They’re all sharp. And now that she mentioned it, I, uh, hear tunes coming from everybody.

Elizabeth tilted her head. She was concentrating on her own vital signs, her pulse, her breathing, and Bri’s, but beyond that she could hear small tunes emanating from each person. Sometimes it was comprised of more than one melody. She focused on Marian’s and discovered the tune became less of a string and more of a woven rope—and led to a black-haired, blue-eyed man standing behind her.

Bri had followed her thoughts. Interesting.

“Time for plan B,” Alexa said. She gestured to a tall man with powerful shoulders dressed in gray raw silk shirt and trousers. He gave them a half-bow. His expression was serious, his eyes haunted. He left.

Bri’s fingers twined in Elizabeth’s. That bad feeling is back.

Yes.

“The baby thing worked for me,” Alexa said conversationally. “Twice.”

I definitely don’t like where this might be leading, Elizabeth said.

“Children worked for me, too, in a different way,” Calli said softly. She held out her hand and a man came up and stood with her. A definite couple. Their Song spiraled out and snagged Elizabeth, so strong and loving and tender that she had to block it out because it reminded her of what she’d lost with Cassidy. She turned away from the sight of them.

Bri squeezed her hand. They look very married, and he’s definitely a native. Marian’s guy, too.

Elizabeth shivered. At that moment the large door opened and the man wearing gray strode back in. He held a small, limp body in his arms.

“Oh, no!” Elizabeth and Bri said.

He walked straight up to where they sat and carefully laid the boy of about three before them. The man’s expression was stark. “Mortee.” He dies.

3

Elizabeth and Bri went to opposite sides of the boy, reached for him. His breath wheezed, his face was pale and grayish compared to the golden-peach complexions of the healthy adults. He opened his eyelids. A horrified noise escaped Bri at the milky film covering his eyes.

“Do you recognize these symptoms?” Bri asked, staring at her sister. She pushed the boy’s limp hair back from his forehead, gently turned his head to look in his ears, opened his mouth. His tongue showed a white coating too.

“Um,” Elizabeth unbuttoned the boy’s shirt, put her hand on his chest. “Erratic and thready.”

“Don’t give me doctor-speak comparisons. Do you recognize this?”

“You never left people without hope,” Elizabeth muttered.

“Twin,” Bri said, “there’s magical energy all around us.”

“Illusion.” Elizabeth glared. “He needs a hospital.”

“We’ve already tried everything. People are dying every day.” Tears dribbled down Calli’s cheeks. She and the other two women who spoke English kept close.

“We can help him with our healing gift!” Bri said.

Elizabeth lifted her palms from the small boy. “I can’t do anything without my instruments. Antibiotics, drugs!”

Alexa shifted her weight, looked at Elizabeth, met Bri’s gaze. “We’ve done all we could.”

Elizabeth folded her arms, held her opposite elbows tight. “Everything’s too strange,” she whispered. “Magic doesn’t work.”

With a set mouth and steady stare at Elizabeth, Bri stretched her arms, flexed her fingers, placed her hand on the boy’s forehead and groin. She blinked as the air around her glowed, hummed.

Bri looked at Elizabeth, neat and tidy. It would be so much easier with her sister helping. Too bad. She’d have to fling herself into the healingstream alone, as usual. Elizabeth hunched her shoulders, glanced away. She wasn’t used to working outside a clean hospital, depending on the healingstream and herself. Focusing on the boy, Bri opened herself to the healingstream. Only complete dedication would save the boy’s life. She grabbed for the current.

Energy slammed into her, through her. She thought she heard Elizabeth gasp. Bri’s hands turned fiery with green flames. The boy’s body arched and jumped. Oh, God, oh, God, she’d killed him.

She flung herself back. Her legs tangled. Her head hit hard stone. Commotion erupted around her. Her mind spun, she was afraid to look at her hands. Her fingertips must have blackened from the force of what she’d taken hold of.

She was used to a stream of healing energy, not a raging river. Awesome.

Fearsome.

Her heart stopped thundering the same time her vision cleared—or she had enough sense to blink. She stared up at a circular room, with windows high in the wall. Stained glass alternated with clear. Rough beams were studded with opaque white crystals. Stones that held energy like batteries. Too many crystals to count. She’d plugged into a huge power source.

Would any place on Earth have such a potent psi-magical energy current? Doubt gnawed. The more she ignored it, the stronger it became.

The flow had held a tang of otherness. Usually she’d tap into the healingstream, taste what she only knew as Mother Earth. A current of energy straight from the core, smelling like molten lava, tasting like the richest soil. Those sensations had been absent, other sensual cues had come instead.

“Twin,” she croaked, and turned her head.

Elizabeth didn’t look at her. She was on her feet, next to the man who’d scooped up the boy. Bri felt her mouth drop open. The kid was squirming like any healthy and active youngster. Ohmygod.

The boy’s eyes were wide open, bright and brown. His skin looked rosier than most everyone else’s. Pale and trembling, Elizabeth had turned doctor and was lifting her hand from his forehead. Then she stuck out her tongue at him and he returned the gesture. Appeared red enough to Bri.

Ohmygod.

Not God, you, Elizabeth said stiltedly in Bri’s mind.

Bri swallowed and watched her twin trail her fingers over the boy’s cheek. Now well hydrated, almost chubby.

Elizabeth shuddered. You saved a life. Slowly, she met Bri’s gaze, her own full of shocked disbelief. You saved a life with…with….

Healing hands. She glanced down, they weren’t black.

The man holding the boy said something and the redhead—Marian—translated the twisted French-like words. “There are other sick outside in the cloister walk. We brought everyone from Castleton, fifteen sick. One died before you came.”