Hunted

“I’ve been around sick humans.” From their expressions, they didn’t believe me. I shrugged. I had enough on my plate without trying to convince them of something so mundane. “Whatever, but you need to put those weapons away before Mrs. Watts sees them and concludes we’re here to hurt her.”

We continued along a narrow hallway, following sounds to a medium-sized room. The windows were boarded up with cardboard, so the only light came from a bedside lamp on top of a dresser. The room had two twin beds and a crib.

Two boys about six shared one bed, Mrs. Watts mopping the brow of one of them as he threw up into a bucket. An older girl about eight lay curled up in another bed. She looked so pale, her psi energy weak. The youngest child sleeping in the crib was hardly breathing.

“Mrs. Watts,” Bran called out.

She looked up from her boy and frowned.

“Why are you just standing there?” she asked, refolding the wet towel and cleaning her son’s face. “Help me. They need treatment.”

“What happened to them, Mrs. Watts?” Bran asked.

“I don’t know. They were perfectly fine when we went to sleep last night,” Mrs. Watts said in a tired voice, “but they woke me up at four in the morning crying and running high fevers. I gave them over-the-counter medication and they seemed to be doing okay several hours later. They even had some soup. Then their fevers returned and they couldn’t hold down anything. I can’t drive them to the hospital because the same people who vandalized my house also broke into my car, so I called you guys.”

Bran frowned. “The broken windows happened last night?”

“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.