Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,104

wiser and kinder than they had been.

“Wait a minute,” Diego said. “You were shot up on the ridge like this? And you made it all the way down to your house? There were no tracks, Luther.”

Luther had already cut the material away from the wound and tried to clean it. He’d attempted to build a fire and clearly was going to cauterize it in an effort to stop the bleeding. Rubin ignored the two men and began to work as fast as he could on the older man. He handed him water. He was clearly dehydrated. Running his palms just above his leg, he found he could see the damage done to the muscles and bone. The artery wasn’t hit, but the veins were a mess.

“You think you’re the only one any good in the woods, boy?” Luther challenged.

Diego thought about it. “Well.” He rubbed the bristles on his chin, distracting the older man as Rubin examined the wound. “Yeah. There aren’t very many as good as me. Rubin’s pretty good. I thought you were getting up there in age and maybe had lost a few of your abilities.”

Luther visibly objected. “I can still run rings around you. Don’t let age fool you.”

“I can see where I may have gone wrong there,” Diego said. “And this cave system, Luther. It’s unbelievable. Really, amazing and beautiful.”

Luther’s body shuddered with pain. Diego glanced anxiously at Rubin. To find him and then lose him at this late date would be terrible. Neither brother wanted that. Rubin was very aware of Diego counting on him. He was always aware of the GhostWalkers counting on him when those they loved were so close to death—and Luther was close to death. They both could smell it there in the cavern.

He pushed all thoughts away but the well of healing fire in his body. He didn’t have his surgical instruments, or IVs to save Luther, but he had his gifts. “Do you know your blood type?”

“Yeah. I served,” Luther told him abruptly. “What are you doing here?”

“The men that came to your place want to land a plane in your meadow. Other soldiers took my woman, and they’re bringing her down the mountain to fly her out of here. We got here first,” Rubin said. “I need to know your blood type.”

“You let candy-ass babies take your woman, Rubin?” Luther demanded, pouring outrage into his voice, but he closed his eyes. “Was going to go join my Lotty, but guess you’re going to need me.” He murmured his blood type and then seemed to drift into a sleep.

“Rubin?” Diego asked. He was already rolling up his sleeve. He reached into Rubin’s field kit and began hastily preparing for a blood transfusion.

“I don’t know. Don’t interrupt me.”

Rubin couldn’t think about anything but taking the repairs one step at a time. The inside of Luther’s leg was mangled. He hadn’t done it any favors by dragging himself through the fields over rocks and then the cave through the water. Rubin had no idea what kind of bacteria had gotten into the wound. Infections happened fast and killed easily. He shoved that out of his head so he could concentrate.

Just using his healing abilities on Luther wasn’t going to be enough to save him. Rubin could see that immediately. He had no choice if he was going to save the old man. Being a psychic surgeon wasn’t quite as cool as everyone thought it was. There was an exchange taking place. It was an extremely dangerous practice. One couldn’t cure cancer. No matter how much he might be tempted to save someone on the battlefield, he knew he might be exchanging his life for theirs or losing both their lives. It was always a balance.

When he desperately wanted to save an individual or a loved one, it was difficult if not impossible to make the decision to walk away. He knew he should walk away now, but Luther belonged to his past. He was a connection bridging the time between his youth, the family he couldn’t save and the present. And there was Lotty. They all adored Lotty. She tied them together even with her beloved songbirds and her azaleas. Jonquille was his future. She was his Lotty, and she would want this as much as he did.

He opened the well of healing energy and began to do the surgery through his mind, moving the shattered pieces of Luther’s bone, muscle and veins back into place and meticulously mending each