The words turned from a plea into a sob, and as I sobbed, a small tingle of energy finally flowed through my feet. It crawled its way slowly up my legs, through my body, and into my fingertips.

Thank the Goddess. I pushed my fingers deep into his wound. I didn't need to say the next word. Instead, it seemed to resound from the very depths of me. Heal. As the word grew louder in my mind and took root in my body, the small bit of energy I had summoned flowed through me and into Luke. Time stood still, and for a long moment nothing existed but the sound of his shallow breathing.

I felt something graze my cheek. I opened my eyes and realized I was lying on the ground. Luke kneeled over me, one handheld against his side. Darla was next to him, tears streaming down her face. Red slowly dripped from between Luke's fingers. It all rushed back to me.

"Colina, are you okay?" he asked.

The rain had stopped. I pushed myself off the ground.

"I thought you were no longer a healer." He took away his hand and looked down at his side.

He was bleeding, but not like before. I had stopped the gushing river of blood. He wouldn't bleed to death in front of me. I resisted the urge to slump back in exhaustion. "I'm not a proper healer. You're still bleeding."

"Yeah, but I'm alive, and that's only because of you." His voice sounded weak.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"The woman, she had a knife," he said, a grim expression on his face.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "She stabbed you! But you were trying to save her."

"Life throws you curveballs sometimes." He stood up and then reached down to help me to my feet. "We better get out of here before those guys decide to come back. Darla, stop crying. I'm okay."

But he wasn't. He slumped forward as he moved. Darla reached out and slid her body under his arm, but his weight was too much for her. I scrambled around to his other side and lifted his arm around my shoulder.

We staggered out of the alley and to the shop's front entrance.

"Anyone think to bring keys?" Not bothering to wait for a response, Luke pushed away from us and supported himself against the door. He leaned over, picked up a nearby rock, and broke a pane of glass before reaching in and unlocking the door. I waited for him to move, but he slumped to the ground again.

Darla and I, as if on cue, moved to either side of him and propped him up once more. Darla pushed the door open, and we made our way inside. I kicked the door shut behind me, but the broken pane provided little protection. Anyone could follow us into the store.

We eased him down to the floor.

I looked over at the broken window.

Luke followed my gaze. "Worried someone might steal something? Normally our reputation keeps people at bay." His voice was laced with pain.

Sometimes a reputation was a double-edged sword. Hatred toward death dealers was widespread. He'd almost been killed a few minutes ago because of it—the very nature of his powers horrified the woman he'd tried to rescue so much that she'd actually stabbed her savior.

Darla unwound her braid and started to wring out her hair. She was drenched, and I realized she wasn't the only one. I was shivering. We were all soaking wet, and it was a chilly night.

"We need to get out of these wet clothes." I stomped my feet a few times and rubbed my arms. I was keeping myself moving by sheer force of will. If I sat down now, I worried I would never get back up.

"I'll get blankets," Darla said, moving swiftly across the room to the doorway behind the counter.

Luke watched his sister go and then turned to me. "Do you have any medical skills beyond the magic kind?"

"Keep pressure on the wound," I said.

"We do sell some salves and herbs." He pointed toward the back of the shop.

I nodded and made my way to the back. I wandered around, picking up bottles and pouches, looking for names I recognized. There were chest ointments for colds, remedies for stomach aches, and solutions for joint pain. I found a few things I could use, but I couldn't treat a serious injury with the stuff in this shop.

I did find something I could use to clean the wound and something I could give him that might help with the pain, but what we needed was a proper healer.

A healer. I used to be a healer. A sob escaped my mouth. I touched my cheeks in surprise and realized tears were streaming down my face.

I panicked out there. Luke almost died because I froze. I had to keep it together. I forced myself to take a deep breath. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I made my way back to his side.

I uncorked a brown bottle and passed it to him. "Drink half the bottle."

He looked at me. "Are you sure? You're not trying to poison me, are you?" His voice was weak, but he sounded amused.

"It'll help with the pain."

He drank from the bottle and nodded.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Still alive and kicking," he answered. His voice sounded a bit stronger.

I went to the front window and looked out. The street was deserted, and it had started raining again. We needed to get upstairs and put a few more locked doors between us and any bad guys.

Darla came bounding back into the room, her arms piled high with blankets.

I grabbed one from her, went over to Luke, and wrapped it gently around him. "Hang in there."

I looked up at Darla, who was busy wrapping herself up in a pink and white Afghan. "We need to dress that wound. What about a first aid kit?" I asked.

"I think there's one behind the counter. I'll look for it," she answered.

Luke reached out and touched my arm. "Colina, you're shivering."

I pulled my arm back. "I'm okay."

"Last thing I need is the person saving me succumbing to frostbite."

Hypothermia was a distinct possibility. I was chilled to the bone, my clothes were drenched, and I was covered in mud. I leaned over, grabbed a blanket from the pile Darla had dropped onto the floor, and wrapped it around my shoulders. "There, satisfied?" I asked, smiling at him.

"Much better." He suddenly winced and pain filled his eyes.

"We need to get you to a proper healer."

"I know someone, but we can't risk going out again tonight. That crew wasn't so happy with the way things turned out. They can be vindictive. I wouldn't put it past them to come back and hang around, waiting for a chance to get even."

"What about the cops?"

"Did Darla call them? I doubt they'll even come. This isn't their favorite part of town."

"Banshees, is that something you do a lot?"

"Not if I can help it."

I leaned down and looked at his injury. "The whole scene was pretty freaky."

"You got hurt." He touched the scratches on my arm and glanced over the ones on my cheek. "I brought them forth. I'm sorry they hurt you. I wouldn't have let them seriously injure anyone."

He was still bleeding, more than I would have liked. "Not even the bad guys?"

He kept silent and winced as I reached forward, and my fingers gently moved around his wound.

I was still trying to get my mind around the fact Luke had conjured up the unsettled dead and, even worse, had them do his bidding.

The dead must be left alone. It was my pa's voice this time that whispered in the corners of my mind. Don't get involved with anyone who conjures up the Death Arts. They're wicked people, Colina.

Luke didn't seem wicked, but what did I actually know about the guy? He'd gone into an alley to save an innocent woman. Okay, not so innocent—she'd tried to shish kebab him—but as far as he knew, he was helping a victim. That meant he was someone with good intentions. Right?

Only the blackest souls mess with the dead. The dead should be left alone. It's sacrilegious, the way those people call up spirits and parade them in front of their kinfolk.

My pa's voice again. And with it, a memory...

Pa was sitting by the fireplace. It was a week before Christmas, and most of the clan had started making their way to the winter festival. We were leaving in the morning. I was beyond excited. It would be the first time I was allowed to see the more difficult magics performed. My mother had promised that, in a few years, I would begin my healing lessons. I was young, innocent and the world seemed like a place with so many possibilities. I don't remember how the discussion moved on to the death dealers, but I remember the way my mama's face changed when she began talking about them, the look of disgust that filled her eyes at the mention of them.

"And what right do they have? Who made them judge and juror? How can they decide when someone should meet their maker?" my mama asked.

My mama's whole life had been about healing. The death dealers were the antithesis of her very existence. As powerful as she was, there were those she tried to heal who were too far gone, too ill to be healed. Sometimes those dying souls would call on death dealers to help them make the transition from this life to the next. To me it seemed, at the time, a kindness to stop their suffering, but my mother corrected me, telling me it was unnatural. She warned me that they were challenging the very balance of things.

I knew those who practiced the blackest forms of the Death Arts often sacrificed animals to gain more power for their spells. But I'd also heard darker rumors. Whisperings that it wasn't just when the sick were on their deathbeds that the death dealers took a life. But those rumblings were only rumors, and it was hard for me to imagine anyone trying to practice those most forbidden magics.

Have you ever called on that same energy? Ever felt its pulse swirling and circling around you? It's not for the faint of heart, Luke had said. That worried me more than I wanted to admit. What I was doing was lunacy. No one stumbled into a magic shop and demanded to learn the Death Arts. Those who practice it were despised and often hated. Dark magic was something I both feared and desperately needed.

Darla knelt beside me and handed over a blue plastic box with a medical symbol on its cover. I pulled it open and started taking out bandages, tape, and a pair of scissors. "This is going to hurt."

Luke nodded and closed his eyes.

I used an antiseptic wipe to clean my hands and then got to work. I cleaned the wound and bandaged it as quickly as I could. I could tell he was in pain by the way he was breathing. Every time I came in contact with the wound, his breathing hitched or increased, and he let out a soft moan. I tried to focus on the task at hand and not the pain I was inflicting.

Darla sat beside me and quietly handed me bandages and ointments.

Finally, I had done all I could. I sat back on my knees and wiped the hair out of my face. The injury wasn't bad enough to kill him, but if left unattended for too long it could get infected and become serious.

I turned to Darla. "We need to get him upstairs."

"I can walk," he said, pushing himself up slowly, but unsteadily, to his feet.

"Last thing I need is to have you fall over and get a concussion because you're being a macho idiot," I said, giving him a hard stare.

He gave me a sheepish grin and I stood up, looping my arm around his waist.

We made our way across the room and up the stairs, Darla following closely. It was slow going. Once upstairs, I helped him into his room and onto his bed. I turned away while he finished getting undressed. When he was done and settled on the bed, I pulled a black and red striped duvet over him.

He laid his head back against the pillow. "Darla, go make some tea. It will help warm us up."

She nodded and headed out of the room.

"There you go. Snug as a bug in a rug." I leaned over and brushed my hand across his forehead. He didn't have a fever.

He smiled. "My mom used to say that to me when I was a kid."

His bedroom was bigger than it looked from the outside. He had a king-size bed with a padded headboard. On either side of the bed were two large, black nightstands, each sporting a black shaded lamp. A large black dresser stood off to one side. The other wall housed a black wooden desk and office chair.

"I bet your favorite color is black."

"Now you're the mind reader."

I looked around the room and laughed. "Call it a lucky guess."

"You need to change out of those wet clothes."

"That's the next thing on my to do list. I'll be right outside. If you need anything, just shout," I said, heading toward the door.

"Colina...thanks."

I turned back, unsure of what to say. I shrugged and smiled. "Sure, anytime."

"I'm serious. I'm glad you're here. I would hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't been. If Darla had been alone..."

The way he was staring at me and the intensity in his eyes sent a small, delicious shiver through me. I found myself searching his face, wondering what he was thinking. It was a good face. He was a handsome guy. My glance ventured down to his lips. I realized I was staring, and I could feel a blush spread across my cheeks. I tried to keep the embarrassment I felt from my voice when I said, "Try to get some sleep." Without waiting for his reply, I walked quickly out of the room.

Back in the living room, I found Darla on the couch curled up in a big pink blanket. Her face was pale, and her hair hung down around her like a wet golden curtain.

She looked up at me. "The tea's brewing."

"Why don't you go take a hot shower? I'll stand guard in case he needs anything."

"You're staying?" She suddenly looked much younger. Her eyes were filled with panic.

I remembered that she'd just watched her brother get stabbed almost to death. I felt uncomfortable seeing the panic in her eyes and turned away.

"I don't have any place to go. Not with the bad guys out there."

"Is he going to die?" Her voice was but a whisper.

I walked over and sat down next to her. "No, he's fine."

Tears spilled down her face. "There was so much blood. I thought..."

I patted her shoulder. "He's going to be okay. He needs to see someone who can properly heal him. You can take him tomorrow. When the coast is clear."

She grabbed my hand. "Promise me you'll come with us."

"Darla, I don't know—" I started to pull my hand out of her grasp.

Her grip tightened. "Colina, promise me you'll stay until we know for sure he's going to be alright."

I had come here with a single-minded purpose: to learn the Death Arts. I'd had my fill of pain and suffering. I didn't want to become involved in other people's dramas. If I were smart, I would walk out the door and come back in a few days when Luke was all healed and the Triad chaos had blown over.

I glanced over at Darla. She looked so scared. I can't leave her, not now. Not when she's so afraid. "I promise. Now go get in the shower." I looked down at my wet, muddy, and now covered in bits of blood, outfit. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow some more clothes."

"Look in my dresser or my closet. Take whatever you want."

"It's going to be okay." Even as I said the words, I knew I couldn't make that promise. I learned the hard way that the universe can reach out at any time and take away what you love most in the world. When the universe decides to mess with your life and your loved ones, you have no choice but to sit back and watch in horror as your worst nightmares came true.