Once we were in the hallway, Javis snapped the edge of his rubber glove and offered Sloe and me a sad smirk. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Sloe waved a hand. “Have fun.”
“Yeah,” chuckled Javis. “Fun.”
I shook my head. “He likes his work more than he lets on,” I said, keeping my voice low. “He’s rather popular here.”
“Popular?” The scrunching of his face made me laugh.
“The female residents love him. Some more than others.”
I blanched at narrowed eyes.
“He keeps it professional, though,” I said, raising my palms. “And his presence here seems to make people happy.”
Sloe didn’t say anything. He stared across the hallway, his brow furrowed and eyes alert, as if he were searching for something.
“So, you’re here now. What would you like to see?”
His lower lip puckered, and he passed a hand through his dark hair.
“Whatever you’re willing to show me, I guess.” He said this with what seemed like a forced calm. Was he nervous, too?
I didn’t think it appropriate to take Sloe into the residents’ rooms, to have him shadow me on my rounds. But the kitchens weren’t exactly interesting. Neither was the gym.
“Let’s walk around the perimeter of the building and poke our heads into some of the common areas,” I said. “That shouldn’t take long, and if we get bored, I can show you the house, where Father, Javis, and I live.”
Taking that as my cue to begin what would likely be the most boring, and awkward, tour in the worlds, I stepped forward and gestured for him to follow. He walked as if stepping too loudly would wake up the recovering Lost.
“We don’t have to be so quiet,” I said. “The days here tend to be calm and uneventful. Twice a day, I go from room to room to check in on the residents. And then—”
As if catching me in a lie, someone wailed a high-pitched scream.
Sloe looked at me, worried and visibly puzzled.
“This is unusual,” I breathed.
I ran forward, following the screaming, and stopped when I reached a bathroom situated in the hallway. I turned to Sloe who’d caught up with me and asked him to wait outside. It was a ladies’ room.
My heart thudded against the insides of my chest as I pushed the door open.
Past the stalls, a young woman alternated between sobbing and screaming. Her back was turned away from me, and her shoulders shook the braid that trailed across her back.
As I approached, I reached out with my palm.
“You’re safe, Carmen” I whispered. My fingers curled around her shoulder. “Catch your breath, and tell me what’s happened.”
She turned and looked at me over her shoulder, with watery eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “No, no, it’s not me.”
“If it’s not you, then who is it?”
She wiped a trail of tears and pointed to a stall.
The stall door was wedged open. A bundle of ropes fanned across the floor. It looked like the bottom of a mop. My heartbeat rose into my throat as I pushed the door further.
Next to the mop’s pole was a shoe. I had trouble swallowing a scream of my own. Draped over the toilet was the body of my brother.
“Javis! What happened?”
He didn’t respond, but Carmen murmured at my shoulder. “I was in one of the other stalls when he came in to clean the bathroom. He mustn’t have known I was here.” Her eyes darted to the mop. “I heard something fall.”
I tried to lift Javis, then thought better of it. There was no way Carmen and I could carry him out of here.
I stepped into the hallway. Sloe stood, hunched over with his hands in his pockets. He stared at me wide-eyed. “Silvie, what happened?”
“It’s Javis. He fell over in one of the stalls.”
His cheeks paled and slackened. “Can I help?”
I nodded, hating the lump in my throat that kept me from replying with words. It was then that I noticed Javis’s cleaning bin parked against the wall. I’d completely missed it on my way to find out the source of the screaming.
When we reached the stall, Sloe propped Javis up over his shoulder and backed out of the stall. He had more strength than I gave his thin and gangly body credit for.
“Wrap your arm around his side,” he said.
As I did, I heard the whisper of Javis’s breathing, for which I gave a silent thanks.
“Help me get him out to the hallway.”
Gently, we helped Javis onto the floor. He fluttered his eyelids. Through them, I could see recognition in his eyes before he closed them again.
“It’s okay, Javis,” I said, wrapping my hands around his shoulders. “Breathe.”
Sloe stood and took a step backward, then leaned against the wall. I could feel his lavender eyes staring at me. I fought the urge to look up and measure his reaction, and focused on Javis, instead.
I reached out with my healing talent. In my brother, I felt weakness—something dark and sweet that was different from the pain of external wounds, of bleeding. I’d expected there to be pain since he’d fallen over and landed on a toilet. But there was something else, something I didn’t recognize because I’d never felt it in the injured or the Lost.
I pulled Javis’s shirt back and frowned. A bruise across his stomach was already beginning to turn purple.
“Will he be all right?”
I looked up and blinked. I’d almost forgotten Sloe was there.
“Yes,” I said sharply. There was no way I wasn’t going to let Javis be all right.
I reached again with my healing talent, finding the strength within my brother and pulled at it, stretching and spreading the life in him across whatever internal and external pain I could sense. The darkness within began to fade, along with pain and injury. It was as if two forces were at play, and both were at war with my brother. Pain and injury continued to subside.
Beads of sweat formed along my temples and in the space between my brow bones. The life and strength within Javis was stuck, unable to extinguish the darkness or push it out.
I sucked in a breath and pressed harder.
Javis shook with my efforts, his eyes still closed.
Then he bolted upward and yelped.
Sloe and I gasped at the same time.
“Javis!” I called out, hugging my brother to me. I cringed. The darkness was still there, inside of him.
I pulled back, holding him at arms-distance. His eyes were bloodshot, his lids half-closed.
He frowned. “I don’t know.”
I propped him up to where he could lean against the wall, then pressed my finger along the handrail until I found an emergency button. I was certain Javis could walk, but it was good practice to call for a gurney anyway, to have someone else look him over and to convince him to rest before going home.
Footsteps sounded from down the hall, earlier than expected.
I turned my head, doubtful that the orderlies were already here with the gurney.
“Madeline,” I said under my breath. My heart twisted. She rarely left her room.
The Detail Technician stared directly at me as she approached, her bright orange hair curling around her face and fanning across her shoulders.
“I thought I heard screaming,” she said softly.
I frowned as she looked down.
A look of pain clouded her face when she saw Javis on the ground.
Sloe dipped his arms forward to catch Madeline’s thin frame before she fell.
I clasped my hand across my mouth when I caught a glimpse of Javis’s reaction. The look on his face was not good. I couldn’t tell whether he was jealous of Sloe’s arms around her or upset with himself for having been weak in that moment and unable to help Madeline. I knew it wasn’t pain that I’d already helped him take away.
After a deep breath, I sighed and reached out a hand, ready to start the healing process all over again. I touched my palm to Madeline’s shoulder, searching for the calm within—her own tranquility and peacefulness and pulled it forward, growing it inside her until the anxiety melted away.
This type of healing I was more used to—an overwhelming of emotion. There was no physical injury or pain. And none of the darkness I’d felt earlier from healing Javis. By the time I was done, all trace of worry melted away and vanished from her face. But her eyes sagged with exhaustion.
Footsteps, followed by more footsteps and the rolling of wheels, rumbled across the floor. I turned, wishing I’d ordered two gurneys, one for Javis and one for Madeline.
My breath caught. Father stalked with purpose toward me, with two orderlies and a gurney behind him.
Father pressed his hand to his chest as he took in Javis on the floor, and then Madeline who still dangled from Sloe’s arms.
“What happened here?”
“Javis fell in the bathroom,” Sloe said, surprising me. “After we pulled him out here, this girl saw him and passed out. Silvie helped them both. She was…amazing.”
I found it difficult to keep my expression professional and serious. Instead, I gave Father a meaningful look, as if to say, See, I am ready for this!
His jaw tightened.
My jaw tightened, too. But then I let my lips curl upward into the smirk I’d tried to suppress—a shadow of Father’s own smirk that I’d seen on many occasions.
As we squared off, the orderlies scrambled to lift Javis onto the gurney. Flashes of the teardrop emblem of Edgar from the patches on their uniform sleeves blurred past me.
Father squeezed his forehead with his hand. “I’m sorry you had to see this, Sloe.”
“It’s a hospital.” Sloe shrugged. “I understand.”
After responding with a slight nod, Father turned to me. “I’ll take over from here. Make sure our guest departs safely.”