More bass. These vibrations were even stronger than the others, registering in Carreon’s belly. They paused for a second. During it, there was another sharp intake of air, though not from Ernez.
Carreon regarded Maria, warning himself not to expect too much.
Her chest actually rose with her next gasp.
He stared, relief, then joy flooding him. Trinidad had actually brought the woman back.
“Turn that shit off,” Carreon ordered Ernez.
He hurried out of the office into the club.
Carreon concentrated on Maria. As quickly as his hope had risen, it now fell. She was breathing, but her eyes were still vacant, her limbs slack. The same as Oscar’s and Anthony’s had been when Liz’s father claimed he couldn’t heal the men.
“The damage to their brains was too extensive because of their wounds,” he’d said. “There’s nothing I or anyone else can do for them.”
Because he’d held back. He’d lied.
“Keep trying,” Carreon ordered Trinidad.
Annoyance darkened her expression.
“Now,” he insisted.
“She’s alive,” Trinidad argued. “Breathing on her own. Exactly what you wanted.”
“Bullshit. I want her back to the way she was when she came in here.”
“Why?” She sat back on her heels, palms on her knees, thighs spread widely, cunt exposed. “I found her annoying.”
He smiled at her cockiness, then sobered just as quickly. “Restore her to the way she should be.”
“And if I can’t?”
“I don’t accept failure.”
“You should have thought of that when you told Ernez to strangle her.”
Before Carreon could comment, or grab and squeeze Trinidad’s throat to prove he’d lost all patience with her fucking banter, Ernez returned. The club was now blessedly silent, which accentuated the way Maria wheezed. As though she were drowning in air.
“Go on,” Carreon ordered Trinidad.
On an exasperated sigh, she lay on Maria again and ministered to her, breathing more air into her mouth, touching each part of the woman’s limp body.
For a moment, there was a spark of awareness in Maria’s expression. A what’s happening? look. It extinguished quickly, leaving that same vacant stare.
Minutes later, Carreon finally snapped, “Enough.”
Without objection, Trinidad rolled to the side and rummaged through Maria’s purse, pulling out a pack of Camels. The unfiltered kind that gave the most kick. With her cigarette lit, she pulled deeply on it as one would after great sex. Ignoring the previous warning that she wasn’t supposed to smoke in here.
Trinidad’s insolence was the least of Carreon’s concerns. He’d deal with it later when he could focus solely on her, teaching obedience, submission to his will. Lessons he’d enjoy and she’d endure.
“Finish her off,” Carreon ordered Ernez, gesturing to Maria.
“He should leave her here,” Trinidad said.
Carreon looked over. “Why?”
Did she want to practice on the woman? Had Trinidad considered, as he had, that she might strengthen her gift by using it?
“Who healed for you before you came here last night?” Trinidad asked.
“What business is that of yours?” Carreon answered.
She filled her lungs with more smoke, releasing it with her words. “My guess is you’ve lost that person. To Neekoma? I heard rumors earlier about a battle with his men over a woman called Liz.”
Carreon said nothing.
Trinidad picked a piece of tobacco from her tongue. “I’ve heard she’s not only a healer, but painfully honorable.” She smiled as though she found the thought decidedly naive. “You want her back.”
He didn’t answer.
She regarded Maria. The woman’s chest rose and fell with her labored breathing while the rest of her body had absolutely no muscle tone. “Before Ernez finishes Maria off for good, I think there’s a way you can use her to get Liz back.”
Having joined Liz and Jacob at their table, Zeke had encouraged Liz to eat.
“You need to keep up your strength,” he said.
“I’ve had enough, really.” She pushed her barely touched plate aside.
He brought it right back. “We don’t waste food here. We’ve stored a lot, but we still need to send our men out for provisions at times. They’re always risking an ambush from Carreon’s men just to make certain everyone here is well fed.”
Zeke’s heavy dose of guilt worked. Liz finally finished everything on her plate.
He and Jacob escorted her from the dining hall. No one watched them depart, not even Kele. She’d left the kitchen minutes before. On the way to Dr. Munez’s room, Zeke, Jacob and Liz happened upon the women who’d voted for them to leave. Each of those ladies avoided eye contact and conversation, ducking into whatever rooms happened to be available, closing and locking those doors as they passed.
Jacob pretended not to notice the lingering resentment. Zeke did the same. Liz sighed repeatedly.
At the door to her father’s room, Zeke spoke to his brother. “Don’t leave. This will only take a minute; then I want to see the prisoners.”
“Do they need to be healed?” Liz asked.
Zeke was about to exchange a glance with Jacob but thought better of it, not wanting Liz to see and interpret it as something bad. That would come soon enough. “No. Your father’s already seen to everyone. We have something we’d like to talk to you about.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“Let’s go inside.”
He gestured her into the room. Jacob watched Liz with that same yearning expression he’d worn in the dining hall. Zeke’s chest ached with sorrow rather than jealousy. He loved them both and wished this hadn’t gotten so complicated, but it had. However, right now all that mattered was Liz’s continuing survival.
“Don’t leave,” he murmured to Jacob.
His brother screwed up his face. “I’m not, all right?”
“Make certain Kele doesn’t come anywhere near here.”
“Why would she?” Jacob seemed surprised at Zeke’s worry. He spoke quietly as Liz and her father embraced. “Kele knows she’s lucky you let her stay with the clan. I don’t think anyone could be more ashamed. It’s my guess she’d risk her life to protect Liz and her father as she did with us last night.”
Deep down, Zeke believed the same, until the disturbing images from his vision returned. That hand around a knife. Blood on the blade. The thumbnail polished a deep red or black.
He went into the room, closed the door and spoke to Liz’s father. “Do you want to start this or should I?”
“Start what?” she asked.
“You can’t heal anymore,” Dr. Munez said.
Liz regarded the man, then Zeke, her lack of emotion saying she’d suspected this intervention. “Why not?” she argued with her dad. “You can’t possibly mean I’ve lost the ability to do so. That’s not true.” She gestured to his leg. “I healed your ankle.”
“Then you passed out in the Jeep,” Zeke said.
She frowned. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did,” her father said. “You don’t recall it, but I saw. Zeke shouted your name several times. You didn’t respond, not until I laid my hand on your shoulder and poured more of my healing gift into you.”
Even though she kept shaking her head to deny her father’s words, blood continued to drain from her face.
Zeke went to her. “You better sit down.”
Liz pushed his hands away and stepped back. “What does my healing have to do with any of this?”
“Each time you pour your gift into anyone,” Zeke said, “you drain yourself. That never happened before the reanimation, but it’s doing so now.”
“So what?” She said to her father, “Even if I deplete myself to the point of death, you can keep reanimating me.”