Keep coming to me, Libby. Hannah needs you. Can you hear her crying? Keep walking, don't stop. I'm almost there.
Libby only heard Elle's voice now and it was nearly drowned out by a strange roaring in her head. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she couldn't understand where she was or even what she was doing. She obeyed her sister blindly, stumbling down the hall toward the doors.
Before Libby managed to make it more than a few feet, a woman rushed up to her, planting herself squarely in Libby's path.
"This is your fault, Libby. All your fault!" Irene Madison shrieked the accusation at the top of her lungs. Her face was twisted with fury and she clutched her handbag like a weapon. "You're responsible for this."
Libby wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. She could see people looking at her, but she didn't know where she was. The woman shouting wasn't making much sense. Frightened, she reached for her sister. Elle? What's wrong with me?
"Surely you don't think my son's fall was an accident." Irene's voice rose to a screech. "Why would Drew be out climbing the cliff? If you had just shown a little compassion, just a little, Libby, this would never have happened."
Libby shook her head, which sent small needles drilling through her skull. She cried out and pressed her palms to her temples, looking around wildly for a way to escape.
"You never cured him. The cancer was there, eating him alive and I couldn't just watch him die. I had to do something. You left me no choice. You refused to cure him and the experimental drug program was the only option left to me. You told me the drug could cause depression. You never said a single word about suicide." Irene's tone escalated to a high-pitched scream. "You could have healed him. Why didn't you?"
Elle burst through the double doors of the hospital, running up the corridor, just as Irene hit Libby hard with her purse, not once, but repeatedly, driving her backward. Libby put up one arm in an effort to defend herself, but she was too weak and went down hard, sprawling on the floor.
Even as she ran toward her sister, Elle lifted her arms, her face a mask of fury. Wind tore down the corridor ahead of her, strong and vicious, whirling like a minitornado, slamming into Irene with such force it nearly lifted the distraught woman off the ground.
Irene screamed and covered her face as the wind whipped around her faster and faster, holding her prisoner. Her carefully styled hair stood straight up and her clothes twisted on her body. Even her earrings pulled out of her ears and hit the partition hard enough to pit the glass.
"Elle." Jackson Deveau inserted his large, stocky frame between the youngest Drake and Irene. "Stop it." His voice was very low, but carried the hard whip of command. The wind seemed to wash over the hard angles and planes of his face, whipping his hair into a turbulent frenzy, but he stood rock solid in the face of her wrath.
Elle's eyes glittered with anger. "Tell her to stop it. She assaulted my sister and you just stood there. Arrest her for battery. You're supposed to be the law."
No one argued with the deputy, not even when they were drunk out of their minds. Jackson was just too dangerous. He was always quiet and rarely spoke, but when he told someone what to do, they did it. His eyes were bleak and cold, as cold as ice. Scars ran along his face and neck and disappeared into his shirt. His dark hair was thick and unruly, his features honed by violent times. Beside Jackson, Elle looked small and fragile, her body half the size of the deputy's, but she didn't back up a step. Neither did Jackson, not even when the wild wind began to tug at his clothes.
Jonas pushed past Elle and knelt beside Libby. "Knock it off, Elle," he interrupted curtly. He'd come in with Jackson and caught the tail end of Irene's attack on Libby. "You're not helping anything. Libby's going to kick your ass when she comes out of this." He switched his furious gaze to Irene. "Libby's hurt bad. She's unconscious. Irene, damn you, what the hell did you do?" he demanded. There was blood around Libby's mouth and nose.
Irene wept hysterically. "I don't know. I just went crazy. Did I kill her?" She remained huddled against the wall, her clothes askew and her hair a tangled mess. "I didn't mean to hurt her." Her sobs increased and she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, legs outspread, clutching her purse to her as she cried.
Elle sank to her knees beside Jonas, her palm skimming just above Libby's body. She cried out and snatched her hand away, cradling her arm to her chest, turning slightly to glance at Tyson looking at them through the glass.
"She needs to go home to the others. I'll call them in and have them waiting for her. She's in bad shape. Can you carry her to the car, Jonas?"
"Maybe she should be seen by a doctor," Jonas ventured. "I've seen you all in various states of collapse, but not like this. This seems too real."
"She needs to be home. We can take care of her," Elle repeated and this time there was a definite order in her tone.
Jackson's gaze narrowed on Elle's face. "You're giving her your strength." He towered over her, reaching down to brush fiery red strands from her face. "You're already trembling, Elle."
Elle pushed his hand away. "She's my sister. Whatever she needs. She gives to everyone all the time." She glanced at Irene, censure plain on her face. "No one is more compassionate or caring than Libby. She gives and gives until she's exhausted."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Irene made an effort to get herself under control, blowing her nose loudly.
"Not at the risk of your own life. She wouldn't want that." Jackson reached down, his fingers wrapping around Elle's wrist. "Back the hell off, Drake."
It was impossible for Elle to remove the deputy's hand and she allowed him to pull her up without a struggle, but she kept her gaze fixed on her sister as Jonas lifted Libby into his arms. Libby's dark hair spilled from the knot and cascaded down Jonas's arm. Her face was stark white, eyes closed, dark red blood dripping slowly down her face. Jonas exchanged a long look with Jackson.
"I don't have a choice, Jackson." Elle made it a statement. "I feel what she's feeling and I can't disconnect. She's not going to make it without my support. Hannah's already with us and the others will be here soon. Hannah shouldered the worst of it. Once we all share the pain and injuries, it will be easier."
Irene pushed herself up off the floor. "Elle. I really am sorry. I don't know what got into me. I think I went a little crazy. Libby's always been good to us. Did I hurt her? Please tell me I didn't hurt her."
Elle glanced up at Jackson's rough-edged features, the dark shadow of his jaw and his bleak, cold eyes. He was staring down at her without expression, but his fingers tightened around her arm. She sighed. "The worst harm was done before you hit her, Irene. You'd better go see Drew."
"He won't let me into the room."
Elle closed her eyes briefly, shadows playing across her face as she concentrated. She sighed again as she gazed at Irene, looking suddenly weary. "He needs comfort and he wants you there. He's very confused and scared. You need to go to him."
Irene nodded and, still clutching her purse, she hurried down the corridor toward the room where the orthopedic surgeon was preparing to take the boy to the operating room.
"That was nice of you, Elle," Jonas said as he began to walk down the hall toward the double doors, Libby in his arms.
"I'm not nice, Jonas." Elle looked at Jackson when she made the admission.
A faint smile briefly touched the deputy's mouth and was gone before it could reach his eyes or warm his expression.
Jonas glanced down at the youngest Drake sister. She was obviously in pain, Jackson supporting her as she walked. "Yeah, you are, Elle. Protecting Libby when someone is pummeling her wasn't such a bad thing. You didn't hurt Irene."
Tears shimmered and Elle ducked her head. "I wanted to hurt her."
"I know, baby," Jonas said gently, "but you didn't, and that's what matters."
Elle flashed a wan grin. "Thanks, Jonas. You aren't all bad either."
Jonas laid Libby in the back of his car, her head in Elle's lap. "Get Pete's statement, Jackson, see if
you can get anything out of him while I take Libby home. I'll get back as soon as possible. They're taking Drew into surgery and it will be awhile before we can talk to him again. He didn't admit it, but he definitely went over that cliff on purpose. He would have gone into the ocean if he hadn't hit that outcropping. I want him seeing someone before he ever leaves the hospital."
Jackson nodded, brushed back Elle's hair again, the gesture casual, but his fingertips lingered on her skin. She scowled as she watched him stride away.
"Why do you deliberately try to provoke him?" Jonas slid behind the wheel, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.
Elle picked up Libby's hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around her sister's palm as if she could hold her to them. "He's always so in control and he thinks everyone should do whatever he says. And everyone caters to him. Big bad Jackson. We're all supposed to be so scared." She bent and kissed her sister's brow. "No one orders me around, Jonas, least of all him. He thinks he can tell me what to do."
Jonas kept his eyes on the narrow, winding road. The highway was steep with several switchbacks. The mountain rose on one side and the ocean shimmered on the other. "You're the only one who gives that man guff."
"Someone has to do it." Elle leaned back and closed her eyes. "And I'm really good at it." Her head pounded and her chest felt broken into pieces. She could feel the presence of her sisters as they joined with her to hold Libby close. She had taken on the grave injuries of another and all they could do was shoulder part of the pain to give Libby's body a chance to try to heal.
"What is it between you and Jackson?" Jonas asked curiously.
"Absolutely nothing." Elle frowned. "Jonas? Who was the man that was treated just before Irene went crazy? Do you know how severe his injuries were?"
"Tyson Derrick. He pulled Drew off the cliff. They were being lifted up to the top of the cliffs when something went wrong with his safety harness; he fell about thirty feet into the rocks. Dr. Shayner said he was in bad shape, head trauma, internal injuries." He paused and glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "If he was that bad, how the hell was he watching everything through the glass? Damn it, she healed him, didn't she? Sometimes you girls set my teeth on edge."
"Why would Libby take such a chance? She's normally very careful. I mean she might have tried to take the edge off, but to take on the injuries, that's too risky, not just to her, but to all of us and she knows better."
"I don't understand any of you, so don't be asking me."
"You love us," Elle said with complete confidence.
He ignored that. It might be true but he wasn't admitting anything out loud. "How did you know Irene was going to attack Libby?" Before Elle could answer, he held up one hand. "Forget I asked. I don't want to know." He parked his car as close to the Drake home as possible.
The Drake house sat at the top of the cliffs, the rising tower and captain's walk giving a breathtaking view of the ocean below. Jonas carried Libby up the stairs and over the covered porch to the living room where her other sisters were waiting.
"Take her to her room, Jonas," Sarah, the eldest, advised. "We can make her more comfortable there. Hannah says this might take some time."
Jonas watched as Libby's sisters surrounded the bed. He could feel the surge of power as they joined hands. He had known them all of their lives and they still never failed to astound him with their combined power. Libby was the healer, the compassionate Drake. He couldn't imagine a world without Libby in it and right now he could barely detect her breathing. He stifled the urge to feel for her pulse and stepped out of the way.
He had watched over the Drake sisters for as long as he could remember. It wasn't always easy and more often than not, they were aggravated with him, accusing him of being a bully. But they always took risks in dangerous situations. He scowled down at Libby. Like now. He had the urge to shake her, shake all of them, for putting themselves continually in harm's way.
Sarah sighed. "Jonas. Go downstairs and make tea."
"Why? If you want tea, all Hannah has to do is wave her arms around and a cup will come floating." He sounded more sarcastic than he intended, but the feminine power in the house always threw him.
"We're trying to work here," she said, "and you're broadcasting your disapproval loud and clear."
"I don't broadcast. I'm the normal one," he insisted. "Is she going to be all right?"
Six pairs of eyes bored into him. He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm going to make tea. What kind? You have a tea shop down there. I wouldn't want to make the one with crushed lizard tongue in it."
"The canister is on the sink waiting for you," Sarah said. "And of course Libby will be all right. We wouldn't allow anything else."
4
LIBBY laid her head against the back of the chair and stared at the shimmering blue of the sea. There was something incredibly soothing about the ebb and flow of waves and the white foam capping the crests far out in the ocean. The continual cry of gulls and the fresh smell of the coast always lightened the sadness she couldn't quite shake. The weather was cool but there was little wind and it felt good to sit in the sun and listen to the surf.
She pulled the thin wrap around her legs and kept her eyes on the sparkling water. She had been so careless of her life, and worse, of her sisters' lives. Healing Tyson Derrick's head injuries had been criminally stupid. She couldn't remember the events leading up to touching him. She couldn't remember most of what happened afterward. For nearly two weeks she'd lain dangerously ill. Without the help of her sisters, she probably would have died, or worse, been left in a vegetative state. As it was, her head still throbbed if she moved around too much and she was often sick to her stomach.
Sarah had tried to talk to her about why she had risked her life, but Libby honestly didn't know. It was frightening. She'd lost ten days of her life. Gone. No memories. She'd never experienced such a blackout before. Elle had simply told her sisters and Libby that the compulsion to heal Tyson had been beyond Libby's ability to resist.
A shadow fell across her and she looked up. Her heart began to race and her mouth went dry. The book she'd been holding slipped from her fingers to the sand. "Ty." His name came out a croak. He was the last person she expected to see.
Libby was grateful for her dark glasses and instantly switched her gaze to the ocean. Where were her sisters? Why had she told them she wanted to be left alone for a while? She didn't feel up to facing him, she felt fragile and near tears and guilty as sin.
Tyson stared down at her for a long time. He had no idea why she affected him the way she did, but just the sight of her always changed something lonely inside of him and made him feel strangely alive. He had tried to see her numerous times over the last week and a half. No one had ever captured his interest the way Libby Drake had managed to do. Everything about her intrigued him.
One time, on the university campus, he'd seen her rush to the side of a young woman who had been hit by a car. He had watched as the woman went from writhing in pain, to a few bloody scratches, while Libby had been hospitalized for two days. Everyone thought Libby had been the one hit by the car. The real victim had been shielded by the car, so he couldn't really tell if she'd been hurt bad, but Libby had believed it.
That was the day he had begun to suspect Libby Drake needed help. Her family had brainwashed her into thinking she could heal people. The memory of the victim had faded until he could only remember the agony on Libby's face. Someone had to save her, to convince her that magic didn't exist. She was smart and intriguing and yet so caught up in the legacy of her con artist family she actually took on the symptoms of a reputed victim much like a false pregnancy.
He drew up the wooden chair beside her. Close. Allowing the armrests to touch. "Do you mind if I sit down and visit with you for a few minutes?"
Libby twisted her fingers in the thin wrap. "How did you get down here? The beach is private."
He didn't wait for her to give him permission, seating himself beside her
so that his arm brushed hers. Libby shifted a little away from him in her chair and pulled up her legs to make herself smaller.
"I spotted you from up above. Did your sisters tell you I came by to see you a few days ago? They said you were ill."
"It's nothing serious." Could she sound any more stilted? Wasn't Elle supposed to have telepathy? And where was Sarah? Sarah knew things, didn't she? Didn't she know Libby was in trouble? What was the point of having sisters if they didn't rush to her aid? "How are you?"
"I've got a few broken ribs and sternum. Ripped cartilage, torn muscle, that sort of thing, but my head is in one piece."
"You got Drew off the rocks and saved his life," Libby said. Her sisters had been forced to repeat the events leading up to her injury numerous times before she could retain the knowledge. She didn't remember the events firsthand and felt vulnerable discussing anything to do with that day at the hospital.
"Do you realize the tide isn't as low or as high as it normally is?"
A small frown appeared. Libby had absolutely no idea where he was going with the conversation. The jump between the accident and the tide sent a small pulse of frustration ricocheting through her. She was trying to appear normal even though her brain was still recovering from last week's trauma. "It's a neap tide," she replied.
"Exactly." He sounded like a pleased professor. "When the moon is in the first or last quarter, the sun's gravitational pull is in a perpendicular direction of that of the moon. The sun pulls water away from areas of high to areas of low tide, resulting in lower high tides and higher low tides. That's how we get neap tides."
Up close he was even better-looking than at a distance-- and up close he flustered her, but if he wanted to play science geek and start spouting little science facts, she could match him fact for fact. "Absolutely fascinating. Did you know that when oceans tides are at their highest they're called spring tides?"
A slow smile softened the hard edges of his face. "I do believe that was Libby Drake, her royal highness, putting me in my place." He liked it, too. He liked that she could match him fact for fact. His mind just threw random things out and most people stared at him as if he'd grown two heads. Libby stuck her chin out and threw facts back in his face. She had the same data stored at her fingertips as he did. Somehow that made him feel less of a freak.