I turn around to find Justin standing and blocking me in the corner. He puts his hands on his hips and says, “So, you think you can just waltz out of here and do whatever you like without telling anybody? You put us all at risk when you did that. What if the lights had gone out and a Shadow Demon got someone?”
“Leave me alone, Justin.” I try to push past him.
He reaches up and pushes my shoulders back, making me bump into the end stand, knocking the phone to the floor. His face moves close to mine. “You can’t tell me what to do, muck.”
“Don’t call me a muck,” I threaten, my heart still pounding from the encounter with the men.
“I’ll call you whatever I want, and you can’t stop me.” He sounds like a second-grader out on the playground.
I wish he’d move away from me. “Yes, I suppose you can call me whatever you want, but I can make you stop.”
“What?” His eyes widen as he straightens his back, pulling his face away from mine.
I reach inside of him and irritate his stomach so much he literally has to jump across the bed to make it to the bathroom in time to vomit.
I sit on the bed, shaking. This ability to cause pain or injury astounds me. I will never have to worry about being mugged, kidnapped, or bullied again. I won’t have to put up with Justin calling me a muck either. To prove my point, I go to the bathroom door.
“How’s it goin’ in there, buddy?”
“Leave me alone, muck!”
I twist his stomach again, and he wretches even more. “Justin, I don’t want you calling me a muck anymore.”
“Shut up, muck!”
More dry heaving.
“Justin, stop calling me that. I’m asking nicely now.”
“Muck.”
I wrench his gut and hear, along with everyone else in the two rooms, Justin struggle to get his pants off in time to unload the biggest grumbly tummy ever. Nasty.
“Oh God!” he screams in pain and disgust.
“Justin, please don’t call me a muck anymore,” I say letting my voice rise an octave to sound sweeter. “And before you do it again to spite me, think about the fact you’ll dehydrate if you keep it up.”
After a small stretch of silence, Justin manages to say, “It’s wrong to use your abilities to cause pain, Calli.”
“It’s equally wrong to bully and tease others, Justin. Can we call a truce?” I ask through the door. Through the door! I hadn’t even realized I’d continued to affect Justin even though he was out of eyesight. Is that a normal practice for Healers? Of course, hurting his stomach isn’t something a Healer would probably do—it would be something a Death Clan member would do.
Chris’s lecture on the Death Clan and the natural order of things springs to my mind. Uh oh. Am I turning to the tantalizing evil side of the healing ability?
“Truce.” Justin’s muffled voice comes from the other side of the door.
“Thank you.” I walk away and sit on my bed.
The phone rings and Jessica answers. She greets Chris on the other end. Justin must have called him to report me missing. Jessica hangs up the phone and throws a concerned glance in my direction, then turns away and goes into the other room. Was Chris worried about me?
When, oh when, will this assignment be over? I can’t wait to . . . to what? To meet the Death Clan, lose my powers, and watch Chris die? This new life of mine positively sucks!
Justin comes out of the bathroom, pale and trembling, looking like death warmed over. His eyes shoot daggers through the air at me. Jessica informs him Chris wants him to call back.
I listened as Justin whines and complains to Chris on the phone, claiming I’ve tortured him, that I used my powers to harm him, and I’m turning evil. But what about his bullying? The whole “sticks-n-stones” saying isn’t true at all. I wonder if it is absolutely imperative for Justin to be with us when the diamond is delivered. I imagine the possibility, picturing the details in my mind, and now all I have to do is peek into someone’s future to see the outcome.
I wait for Justin to come tell me Chris wants to speak with me, but that never happens. I fall asleep and don’t wake until morning.