Shadowrun - Novel - 18 - Worlds Without End.pdf

Shadowrun Caroline Spector - Worlds Without End
Why these people were so ill from it I didn't
know. It was a common enough problem—not as
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Caroline Spector
frightening as the plague or cholera, which could
pass through a town and leave it devastated hi a matter
of days or weeks.
At my feet lay an elderly woman. I knelt down
beside her and took her wrist in my hand. Under my
fingers her pulse felt erratic. I was closer to the
power here; the pull of it too tempting to resist. As
my eyes closed I began to see the pattern of her life.
Thin and threadbare. Bleak colors woven together
with an odd shock of bright blue.
It was so difficult to hold on to what I was seeing.
The images were blurred and hazy, slipping away
from me if I hesitated for a moment. But, healing
her would be simple enough, I saw suddenly. It had
been so long since I'd taken the risk. Since I'd
wanted to.
There was a faint sound. It broke my concentration
and I turned toward it. There, shadowed in the
doorway, stood the girl. For a moment her image
blurred with one from my memory. I knew then I
would help them, regardless of the risk.
Again, I took the woman's wrist. Tapping into
what little reserves I'd tucked away, I focused all my
concentration into bringing back the weave of her
life. The heat flew through me then, sliding into her
body, burning out her fever and pain. Hot ribbons of
health wove themselves into her body.
I released her wrist then, exhausted by this minor
act. I smiled a bit at this, I who had brought armies
to their knees with a flick of my wrist, swooning at
this child's play.
And what did my generosity get me?
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WORLDS WITHOUT END
A private room in the bloody Tower.
The people I helped weren't to blame. They
couldn't have been expected to keep quiet about
their miraculous healings, I suppose. Though I suspect
the tale was embellished by the time it reached
the ears of the clergy.
The Protestants and the Catholics had been going
at it ever since Mary came to the throne, but the one
thing they agreed on was that anything smacking of
witchcraft was to be dealt with severely.
For some reason the local priest, who was the first
person to see me after I was captured, didn't want to
kill me right off. Perhaps it was my skin, or maybe
he hoped to gain points with bishop. At any rate, I
was taken to London and then sent to the Tower.
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