What the Devil? Glancing at his hands, he saw a faint blue glow around them, like a penumbra. Intuitively, he put his hand on the green substance. The feel of it made his hand writhe, but he persisted, brought his concentration up to a higher pitch.
Then, he knew! Pitting his will against the substance, he strangled the life out of it, with a grim but satisfying will. When he removed his hand, the green was gone. A great calm seemed to spread through him, then, and using his hands, he pressed the healing blue aura into Deborah’s flesh. Within moments, some colour came back into her cheeks, and her breathing steadied.
Moving to Theuli, who was breathing in shallow gasps from the pain, he pressed his hands to her back. Pushing his concentration to the limit, he reached his senses inside to her injured lung, the torn ligaments and flesh, the severed nerves and blood vessels.
Pran, who could see none of this, said, ‘Doc, my wife . . . will she live?’
The moment he was done, however, Doc levered himself to the ground where he sat, oblivious, staring at his hands as though wondering how the life he thought he knew had slipped so effortlessly through his fingers.
Pran was startled out of his fear by Theuli’s gentle touch on his cheek. ‘Leave him be, my husband. He has succoured my life. It is enough. I will live.’ She managed to smile at him and closed her eyes. ‘Promise that you will not fear for me as I sleep. I’m very tired now.’