Twenty Years Previous
The pregnant woman was going to die. Ryder couldn't stop that -- but if he wanted to, he could postpone it. He could give the baby in her womb a chance to live. He had explained that to her, but he had left off a very important piece of information. That was why he was hesitating.
"Please," the woman whispered. Ryder gazed sadly at her, looking past the skin and seeing the cancer growing in her cells. If he didn't heal her, both she and the baby would die. "Please," she said again.
"You have to understand something," Ryder began.
The woman shook her head. "Anything," she hissed between clenched teeth. Her fists balled the sheets of the hospital bed. "Anything is better than this."
Ryder closed his eyes. The woman had given him permission. He had no reason to withhold his help. "Very well," he said. He turned and stuck his head outside the door, peering through the darkness of the hallway to make sure he wouldn't be interrupted. Satisfied that they were alone, he closed the door and returned to the woman's side.
He took her wrist in his gentle hands and plucked the IV from it. Rubbing his thumb over the drop of blood that came from the hole, he sealed the wound. He looked around for a chair, but finding none, perched on the edge of her bed.
"I need to know your name," he said. "Your full, given name."
The woman swallowed, and for a moment, Ryder believed he was too late. Then her lips parted and she breathed out. "Anna McCallum."
Ryder let her name flow through his ears, listening to its unique melody. "Anna McCallum," he said, and the air sparked with his power. Even Anna, in her terribly weakened state, sensed his power and tensed her body. He saw fear dance in her eyes for a moment, as if she was regretting her decision to let him help her. He murmured reassuringly, pressing her hand between his. Gradually, her pulse calmed and he was able to move forward.
He sought for the connection that would allow him to banish the cancer. He reached out mentally, gently probing the recesses of Anna's mind. He found the connection there, weak as it was, and clamped his mind on it.
He began forcing power through the connection. It was still raw at this point, pure and unfettered, tearing through her system to cleanse her of the disease. If he had been better trained, he would have been able to refine it and perhaps give her a few years to live, instead of a few months. But he was still young, and Anna was his first charge.
Anna jerked, almost tearing her hand away from him. He leaned against her hip, trying to keep contact with her skin and keep her from moving at the same time. She could seriously hurt herself if she jerked the wrong way with his power flowing through her.
Her body bucked, and Ryder closed his eyes, feeling the energy reaching its breaking point. He steeled himself, and as he pushed a final time, the back of his shirt ripped with an obscene tearing sound. If Anna had been in a healthier state, she would have noticed that a large pair of jet-black wing had appeared out of Ryder's back.
He slowed his breathing, willing the power flow to stop. Gradually, it trickled off, and Anna sank back into the sheets, gasping for air.
Ryder got to his feet and smoothed his rumpled clothes. He sheathed his wings with a sigh. "I'm finished," he said, turning his back and walking toward the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob.
"Thank you," Anna said. "I thank you with all my heart. And my child does as well."
Ryder felt a pained smile cross his face. As he stepped out the door, he wondered if her child really would thank him, when the time came. Or if she, for the child was a girl, would hate him for what was to come.
He put his face in his hands, leaning against the wall. "What have you done?"
Present Day
Angel peered over the top of her sunglasses at the man sitting at the bar. He looked nervous, out of place, and generally alienated from the rest of the clientele. A slow grin spread over Angel's face. He was just the kind of man she was looking for. His jet-lagged face told her he was most likely a West-Coaster, and his clothes said his annual income was over three hundred grand. She was surprised he didn't already have a posse of girls around him.
Ignoring the look she got from Jordan, her associate, she went up to the bar and pulled a chair out beside the anxious-looking man. He did a double-take when he saw her, which Angel was used to.
She smiled at the man, then turned to the bartender and ordered a Cosmo. When he'd gone to mix her drink, she propped her head on her hand and swiveled in her chair to look at him.
He was about thirty, and of the business class. Here on vacation, she guessed. She smiled again and extended her hand. "Angel," she said, and shook his hand when he offered it.
"Jim." He put his hand back on the bar when she let go. Angel let her body shift closer to him, and when he didn't tense or lean away, she leaned against him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she mentally calculated how long this was going to take.
"Off from work?" she asked when the bartender had brought her drink. She turned her head up to look at Jim.
He managed a smile down at her. "Yeah. Three fucking days in New York City. As you can tell I'm having one helluva time."
Angel put her hand over his on the bar. "Well maybe I can help with that."
