Heart Secret (23 page)

Artemisia shook off her own distraction—the sharp pain of seeing, being with Garrett a little,
smelling
him—and started moving her feet before he and Rusby finished their lunch.

*  *  *

G
arrett watched Artemisia walk out with the priest.
Good to see Healer outside TQ
,
Rusby said from his perch on Garrett's shoulder. Garrett could hear the small slurping sounds of the kitten grooming.
She remembered ME!

“Yes,” Garrett said.

And I liked her man.

Garrett's mind had screeched a loud warning. She'd meant it; she was cutting her losses with him and moving on.

So soon. He didn't change easily. That Artemisia could slide so soon into change, accept his words and not fight against the circumstances, not fight to change his mind . . . was inconceivable.

Zoom. Right to another guy.

Options in her life, she'd said.

He'd been discarded as a viable option. His own damn fault. He wasn't going to have the time he needed to process this. He sat back down at his table, and when Rusby saw that Garrett wasn't eating, the kitten marched over to the grilled clucker strips.

Garrett had no appetite.

*  *  *

A
rtemisia decided to walk home through a series of parks—and burn
some energy to offset the heavy meal.

For some reason her memory flashed on an image of a slender and active Dinni that she'd gotten from Garrett's mind. The peek at the woman he'd loved and lost haunted Artemisia, making her less self-confident about her body than she usually was.

If he liked slender pixie women, Artemisia would never be a fit. She got her curves from her mother, and they weren't sleek.

Finding that she was grinding her teeth, she stopped. No help for it, the man was her HeartMate and they would have bonded well. But that didn't mean there wasn't another man out there she could love and have children with.

A short scream pulled her from her thoughts; hurt-panic swept over her. She turned to see a woman staring at her hand, which was turning red and swelling alarmingly. Her gaze fastened on Artemisia and she stumbled toward her. “Healer, help me!”

Artemisia plunged toward her. “What is it?”

“A stingsect. I'm allergic.”

Artemisia could see that, could almost sense the poison pumping through the woman's body. No time to get her to the HealingHall. Grasping the woman's hand in both of hers, Artemisia drew in a deep breath, concentrated, and sent her Flair from herself into the woman's body, making it magnetic to the venom. The woman's system was already reacting and Artemisia braced her patient against her as she worked.

Not difficult. Tiring, but also satisfying as she used her talent to help. She held her patient as she vomited, sent much of the venom out that way, as well as pulling it from the wound.

Soon they were both sitting down on the grass, her patient's skin skimmed with perspiration as she panted.

Artemisia handed her a few softleaves.

“Thank . . . thank you.”

Satisfaction infused Artemisia. “You're quite welcome.”

“And thank the Lady and Lord you were here.”

Artemisia nodded. “Yes.” She leaned close and wrapped her arm around the other's waist, feeling more than one set of eyes on them. “Let's get you to a HealingHall to be checked out. I work at Primary HealingHall—”

The woman clutched Artemisia's arm. “No! My council health care is through MidClass HealingHall.”

Artemisia frowned, shaking her head. “I'm sorry. I don't know the teleportation pads there, and you aren't in any shape to 'port us both. I do know those at AllClass HealingHall—and I know FirstLevel Healer Lark Holly, who works there.”

Leaning against her, the woman said, “That's fine.”

A few minutes later, Artemisia left her unexpected patient in good hands with Healers at AllClass HealingHall and walked out with a spring in her step.

She
was
a good Healer. She
did
have skills to benefit to the community. All the time with Garrett when she could only sit by and alleviate pain, not fully cure him, was an anomaly in her life. Past and done.

She was a better Healer, a better woman than most gave her credit for. Because she was quiet and didn't like risk or confrontation. Because she wasn't ambitious and only wanted a good and stable—and fulfilling—job.

And previous to Garrett, she'd helped the Turquoise House, who valued her for what she was.

She wouldn't settle for a man who didn't respect and value her as she deserved. She didn't have to. And she tripped over a gnarly root that extruded from under the wall encasing BalmHeal estate because she couldn't see it. Her vision was blurred from the tears in her eyes that dribbled down her cheeks.

Help! Help me, Healer!

This time the voice was telepathic, small and squeaky. Artemisia jolted to a stop. “What? Who's there?”

A whimpering cry had her moving again, searching. Her Family kept the brush heavy along the walls so they were obscured. But there had always been an animal path. She scanned the area to fix her position along the long concave wall that faced the city.

She was closest to the door that led to the Healing pools, fine. Backtracking a few steps, she pushed through a light illusion spell that led her behind the dense bushes.

I . . . am . . . here . . .
There was a ragged gasp.

Artemisia trotted along the path, ducking, weaving. Keeping her senses open to find the injured . . . someone. If not a person, a child, it must be a Fam. Breathing in liquid gulps, tears falling more at the hurt that throbbed through her from
someone
else, she followed the weak mental pattern. Easier to sense the hurt and follow it. Biting her lip, she did.

And found a young and bloody animal—Fam animal.

Pain filled its dark eyes. She wasn't sure exactly what it was—its fur was thick and mostly matched the brown of the dead leaves it was in.

Help . . .

Twenty-two

S
he wet her lips and stooped—seeing enough of its muzzle to know it
had sharp teeth. “I'm picking you up now.” Sliding her hands under the thing that was about the size of a cat, she lifted it. Again it cried out in pain. And she felt an object sticking from it, something she couldn't take care of now because her arms were full of animal.

It closed its eyes and went limp, though she believed it was still conscious.
Saw you. Earlier. Saw you help. Saw you touch nice. Felt your Healing energy. Safe . . . now.

“I'm not an animal—Fam—Healer. Let me take you to D'Ash.”

It screamed—aloud and mentally, pain filled her head.
No. No. No, no, no!

Drawing in a shaky breath and the animal's musky scent, Artemisia soothed, “Very well. You'll be all right with me, with my Family.” She felt,
smelled
blood and urine trickle onto her sleeves. Wouldn't be the first tunic she'd ruined that way. As she brought the animal closer, angled to cradle it in the crook of her arm, she saw its muzzle was very pointed and its fur was black around its eyes, like it wore a mask. Then she knew she should be able to name the animal—an
Earthan
animal—but it escaped her.

I am a raccoon. A female raccoon,
it—she—said.

Artemisia swallowed. “All right, then. We're close to the door and will be inside BalmHeal soon. I'll take you to a Healing pool.”

Bad person threw knife. I 'ported AWAY fast, then rested and 'ported again. I was drawn here, whisper in mind. Came. Hurt for a long time.

“This is a good place for the desperate. I know you're hurt.” Now she was able to feel the wound. Not to mention seeing the object still stuck in the raccoon—a hilt?—sticking out. A knife?

The spit in her mouth dried as she studied the weapon, the handle wasn't long, equal to the cross-piece arms. She didn't think the blade was very long, either, but it was plunged completely into the animal—who had rallied a little.

But the internal wound was bad. Artemisia must get to a safe spot quickly, remove the knife, cleanse, and Heal the wound.

Fast. Fast. Fast! In a stumbling run, she hurried to the door. The Word opening the door to BalmHeal trembled off her lips, and the arched wood swung open. Artemisia picked up the pace on the well-kept path—most of the desperate came this way—straight to the Healing pool.

Then she was there and putting the unconscious raccoon on the soft moss near the edge of the pool—moss that would comfort and help Heal. She wiped her face, her tears and her own snot, with her ruined sleeve, sucked in a breath, and reached for the knife.

She pulled it out quickly; the hilt seemed to burn her hands with negative energy and she flung it away, heard it splash in the large Healing pool. She didn't think it would harm the pool, but—
Mom, Dad, come quick to the big pool!

Artemisia put her hand over the raccoon's wound and
saw
the injuries with an inner vision. She summoned her Healing Flair and concentrated on suctioning any internal bleeding or hurtful fluids from the knife wound, pulling them from the cavity of the raccoon's body through the wound to the creature's skin and into the thick underfur. Then she began mending—drawing the sliced tissue together, sending Flair to weave, to meld the hurt.

She sighed, sucked in a breath. Not so bad, really. Didn't take too much Flair. The raccoon's organs weren't too different than a human's.

There was a
swoosh
of air and the comforting scent of her mother was there. “What's . . . Oh. What's that?”

“I believe it's a female raccoon.” Her father's calm voice settled Artemisia and her energy became less spiky, stronger, quicker. She was too used to working in a HealingHall, always knowing she might face an emergency there. Her mother usually handled the urgent problems here in the sanctuary.

“I threw the knife into the pool.” She spared a glance for her father and his raised brows. “It was in the raccoon and it looks a little familiar, but I couldn't place it.”

Curiosity lit his eyes.

Another deep breath. “It had very bad energy.” She swallowed. “I think it might have been used to commit that murder yesterday.”

“And it's in the pool!” her mother cried. She stared into the water with a scanning gaze.

“Clothes off,” Artemisia's father said and dove in.

Ignoring her parents, Artemisia finished her work on the raccoon. Its—her—eyes opened and she snuffled at Artemisia.
Thank you, big human person. There are not many of us and we have been afraid of humans, but I would like to be a Fam animal.

The affection and acceptance radiating from the Fam who'd rolled over and cuddled in Artemisia's arms sheathed the cutting edge of the pain of Garrett's, her HeartMate's, rejection.

She cradled the animal—surely it wasn't full grown?—and answered, “I'd like that. But first we must wash.”

Fur is sticky and we smell bad.

Artemisia figured that wasn't the royal
we
that cats used. Her new Fam was making a comment on her person's odor. The raccoon's urine was feral and gamey. “Healing is like that. So we'll head into the pool.” Looking around she saw her parents sitting on the far side of the large multicurved Healing pool, staring at an object. Her father was dressed and dry, which meant he'd said a spell.

“First we bathe. I'll hold you.”

I can swim.

“That's wonderful. And then I'll make an appointment with Danith D'Ash to see us.”

She is SCARY.

Artemisia blinked. She hadn't met the small GreatLady very often, but even as powerful as D'Ash was, since she was one of the highest Nobles of the land, Artemisia didn't consider her frightening. She
did
tend to trust the highest Nobles, especially of the younger generation, thought they were honorable people. There was nothing wrong with that.

“Who told you D'Ash is scary?” Artemisia asked the raccoon, and muttered a Word to take her boots and liners off.

Cats told us. Cats said D'Ash TORTURED.

“The cats probably wanted to keep Danith D'Ash to themselves so they scared you.”

A small gasp, then a growly mutter.
Cats cannot always be trusted.

“You have that right. We're going in now.” Artemisia jumped over the rim of the pool and landed in warm, churning water up to her waist. Her new Fam squealed in delight and Artemisia let out a small sigh of relief.

Carefully she washed the raccoon's fur; the animal wriggled in her grip, surged up to swipe a rough tongue on her chin.
Thank you.

“You're welcome. You know you are in the city's secret sanctuary?”

All are safe here, even raccoons.

“That's true. And if you want to be my Fam”—another little spurt of love between them as Artemisia said the words—“you will have to keep the location secret.”

All animals know about this place, but not all animals can remember how to get here until hurt.

“Only hurt humans can find this, too,” Artemisia said.

The creature shivered and Artemisia slogged to the steps and out of the pool. The early-afternoon air was warm, edging into hot, so her wet and heavy clothes stuck against her skin didn't cool her much. Carefully, she set the animal on its paws. “No telling any humans of the sanctuary or where it is.”

Raccoons don't talk to humans much.

“I saw a raccoon at the Turquoise House and know that many of the animals that Garrett Primross uses as informants were there.” Yes, it hurt to say his name. She'd have to practice it aloud—when alone—until that reflexive stab no longer came.

We have never spoken to him
. The raccoon sniffed in disdain.
We keep ourselves to ourselves.
Artemisia's new Fam patted her foot.
Not all humans are bad.

“No. And not all animals are good.”

Again the animal shuddered.
Bad person hurt me! Kicked our den open and took knife. Big red anger and threw it at me and hit me and hurt me!

“Yes, we need to talk about that.” Artemisia's father crouched by the animal, his large hands soft and relaxed. Yet the raccoon skittered to the other side of Artemisia.

I am not YOURS; I am HERS
.

Her father stood and inclined his torso in a half bow. “I understand, Lady Raccoon. But Artemisia is my daughter and we are close. I heard most of your story. If you live here, you may wish to stay with Artemisia in the Residence, especially in the winter. The Residence is an intelligent House.”

A Fam House? Like TQ?

Artemisia's father's smile was quick and crooked and charming. “Yes. It is grumpy, though, and it loves Artemisia best, too. So she will have to soothe it and you will have to take care around doors and hanging objects.”

The raccoon whimpered and rose to her back feet to set her claws in Artemisia's trous. Despite the sodden fabric, it ripped nicely.

“That outfit is definitely ruined,” Artemisia's mother said as she joined them. A softleaf floated beside her on an anti-grav spell, and Artemisia realized that it covered the knife.

The raccoon stared at the shrouded knife and squealed.

“Why don't you teleport to your room with your new Fam and change clothes?” Artemisia's father said. “We'll join you shortly to discuss this matter.”

Artemisia's mother's lips tightened. “This problem you've brought into our home.”

“Quina, my love,” her father said. “BalmHeal estate is a magnet for problems.”

Her nostrils pinching, Artemisia's mother said, “I suppose so. And we wouldn't be here if I hadn't caused some of those with my religious preferences.”

“Quina,” Artemisia's father said even more gently. He put his arm around her mother's waist. “You are guilty of nothing, and what's past is past and should remain there. We have a very good life now.”

She leaned against him. “I know.”

But her eyes were haunted and Artemisia understood that the murder had brought all the circumstances of their ruin back to her mother. That hurt Artemisia's heart, too, in a different way than Garrett's rejection. Scandal and disgrace, something she lived with every day outside the estate. “Is Tiana still at the Temple?”

“Yes, her afternoon sessions.”

“Ah.” Artemisia bent down to pick up her Fam and her combs gave way and her heavy hair flopped in a long sheet around her head, hiding her face. Just as well. Her parents didn't need to hear or see the new burden on her heart. “Raccoon, I'm going to pick you up now and we will teleport home.”

I HAVE NEVER TELEPORTED WITH A PERSON BEFORE. IT WILL BE FUN!

Artemisia managed a chuckle. “I'm glad you think so. We will go on three. One, raccoon Fam. Two, new home now, and
three.
”

They alit in the corner of the sitting room/study attached to her bedroom that Artemisia had designated a teleportation area.

“What do you have there!” demanded BalmHeal Residence, then added, “It is a raccoon. Hrrmph. Long time since a raccoon was here.”

“You know of them?” Artemisia asked.

“Of course. I was built not long after all the FirstFamily Residences by the colonists. They had some domesticated pets, cats and dogs, on the ships. They also revived the DNA and bred some of the more hardy of their Earthan animals, like llamas and horses and rabbits and raccoons, to make themselves feel more at home.”

“Oh,” Artemisia said.

This is a beautiful place.
The raccoon wiggled in her arms and she put the animal down.

“What did it say?” the Residence asked.

“She is female and complimented you on your beauty.”

“Of course. If she is well behaved, she may stay.”

That was a great concession. Artemisia wasn't sure why the Residence was giving it to her but didn't question it. As she stripped and threw her wet and ruined clothes into the deconstructor, she asked the raccoon, “What is your name?”

I need a Fam name from a human,
the raccoon said, discovering the line of Artemisia's shoes in the open closet and snuffling from one to the next.

“I would like to give you a BalmHeal name. Perhaps the Residence can suggest one?” Artemisia asked.

“I'm honored,” the Residence said but made no suggestion while Artemisia stood under a waterfall foaming with cleansing herbs, dried, dressed, and cleaned up the mess of her ruined clothes.

Finally, the Residence said, “I would like to offer Diceranda as a wonderful Fam name.”

The raccoon chittered.
Randa Raccoon, I LIKE it.

“Randa loves the name Randa, Residence,” Artemisia said.

There was a little creak. “That will do. And the raccoon isn't as big as that dog was,” the House muttered.