Kat looked up. Grace smiled at her from the door to the living room. She looked drained, pale. “I’ve saved her life, repaired the worst of the damage to her body. But her brain . . . She’s very, very ill.” The woman dropped into the chair next to her husband. “She’s been suffering for years. It’s going to take a lot of neurochemical work, plus some very delicate repairs of all that burned-in psychic trauma. All beyond my skill. I’ve made arrangements to gate her to the Healing Clinic.”
“Good.” Lancelot gave Kat a reassuring smile. “They’ll be able to help your mother there.” Kat frowned. “Healing Clinic?”
“The Magekind can heal most physical injuries, but sometimes we—or our mortal relatives—need outside help,” Grace explained. “There’s very little the clinic’s healers can’t do something about.”
“Good,” Kat said grimly. “My mother needs all the help she can get.” SEVEN
When the four trooped back upstairs, they found Mary still deeply asleep, though Grace assured Kat it was no longer the unhealthy coma they’d found her in.
Grace conjured another gate, and Lancelot carried Mary through it, directly into the room his wife had arranged at the clinic.
It was reassuringly pleasant, Kat decided, glancing around as she helped tuck her mother into bed. The furniture was homey rather than the kind of stark, utilitarian setup one would find in a regular clinic.
The blond wood of the bed, nightstand, and dresser was engraved with twining vines and flowers, and the thick quilt appeared handmade.
Her attention fell uneasily on a pretty ceramic pitcher and matching mug on the bedside table. Both were painted with elegant pink roses. “You may want to take those out of here,” Kat told the woman Grace had identified as the healer on duty. “The mood she’s in now, she might try to break one and use the shards on herself.”
The healer, a slender redhead, gave her a steady, sympathetic look. “You couldn’t break either of those with a sledgehammer. Don’t worry, dear. We’ll take good care of your mother.”
“When will she wake up?”
“We’ll keep her asleep until Petra, the spiritual healer, arrives in the morning. They’ll begin work then.
We’ll call you when she’s recovered.”
Kat frowned. “Shouldn’t I be there when she wakes? Mom won’t know where she is.”
“She won’t be afraid, Kat. Petra is very good with this kind of case.”
“She is,” Lancelot put in. “Petra helped my daughter-in-law Caroline deal with the aftereffects of the Dragon War.” He grimaced. “Post-traumatic stress from the final battle has kept all our healers busy.”
“Yeah,” Ridge agreed. “I’ve been meaning to see Petra myself.” Well, that was a pretty solid recommendation. “So when will I be able to see my mother?” The healer shrugged. “I can’t say for sure, since I’m not a psyche specialist. But given her condition, I’d say at least a week.”
“By then, Petra will have her healthier than she’s been since Karen died,” Grace told Kat kindly.
“She’ll feel as if she’s been reborn.”
Kat stared in astonishment. “In one week?” God, what if they’d been able to get this kind of help fifteen years ago? How much pain could have been avoided? For that matter, what about all the other mentally ill people on Earth? What about all the sick and dying, the starving, the victims of war and genocide? “Well, aren’t we fortunate,” she said, then winced at the bitterness in her own voice. She sounded like an ungrateful bitch. “I’m sorry. Thank you so much for everything you’re doing for my mother. I’m very grateful, and I know she will be.”
The healer waved the thanks away. “Think nothing of it, dear.” She studied Kat a moment, her gaze penetrating. “When was the last time you ate? You look a little pale.”
“Ah.” Kat frowned, trying to remember. “I had dinner around five P.M.”
“It’s almost three in the morning now. You should get something.”
“I’ll take care of her.” Ridge rested a strong hand on her shoulder. She gave him yet another tired smile.
Seemed she’d been doing that a lot tonight, probably because he’d been beside her for every step of this ordeal.
Something to think about, there.
“Sounds good.” The healer touched Kat on the shoulder. “Try to get some rest. You’ve had a rough night.”
She nodded mutely and followed the others out of the room as the healer bustled off to check on another patient.
Together, Kat, Ridge, Grace, and Lancelot walked down the hall to a reception area. Comfortable armchairs clustered around a crackling fireplace trimmed with pine boughs and Christmas lights.
Lance opened the gleaming front door, and the four exited to descend a set of stone steps to the cobblestone street beyond.