I was a little dazed by the time Angel strode up to us, leading a small girl by the hand.
“Hi,” said Angel, her face still caked with dust and grit. Her blond curly hair stood out around her head like a halo — which was a bit misleading in her case. “This is Jeanne. Jeanne, this is Max and Fang.”
Angel had that look that made me brace myself and prepare to explain that we could not adopt this sweet little girl. We’d already adopted two dogs (Total and Akila, now back in the States with my mom, Dr. Valencia Martinez, in Arizona). But this Jeanne was so adorable, I was almost afraid I’d just say what the hey.
Jeanne smiled. “Merci pour tout les aides.”
“Uh, okay,” I said. Jeanne came and gave me a hug, her thin arms wrapping around me. She patted my shoulder, her small hand rough against the back of my neck. Then she hugged Angel the same way.
“Jeanne has gifts,” Angel said seriously. “Kind of like us. She’s very special. Let’s show Max, Jeanne.”
Jeanne smiled shyly and held out her hand, palm up, as if she were waiting for us to put something in it. Another hungry child, desperate for food.
Angel pulled an arrowhead-shaped rock from the pocket of her cargo shorts. It was so sharp it looked like the tip of a spear.
“Angel, what the —?”
“Just watch, Max,” she said, as she started to drag the rock’s point across the heel of Jeanne’s open hand.
And blood began to flow.
5
“STOP!” I SCREAMED. Lightning fast, I swept the sharp rock right out of Angel’s grasp, and it went spinning off into the dust. “Have you completely lost your mind, Angel?”
“It’s okay, Max,” Angel assured me, and Jeanne nodded. “Oui, oui.”
I dropped to my knees and examined Jeanne’s hand while she sucked a finger on her other. She had a thin puncture at least an inch long. “Wait here. I’m gonna run to get a first aid kit,” I said breathlessly.
Jeanne grabbed my arm with her nonbloody hand. “Non, non,” she said. “Voici.” She pointed to her oozing wound.
“I know, I know. I’m so sorry, Jeanne!” I babbled. “Please forgive Angel. She’s a little … unbalanced. I’ll fix you up right now. You’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Yes, she will,” Angel said calmly. How badly was I going to kick her butt later?
Jeanne placed the finger she’d been sucking on at one end of the incision and started pressing it.
“Jeepers, don’t touch that!” I said. “We need to keep the wound clean — keep it from getting infected.” I looked around. “Someone here who speaks French! Tell her not to —”
I broke off as I witnessed something unlike anything I’d seen before. And I’d seen a lot of weird stuff — including brains-on-a-stick (check out book three if you’re curious). Most of the weird stuff I’d seen had been nightmarish. But this was … something beautiful. Breathtaking. Miraculous.
As Jeanne ran her finger slowly along the bloody slash, pressing as she went, it closed up right before my eyes.
She had healed herself.
6
“ALL RIGHT, any second now …” The words were clipped, his accent thick. Mr. Chu leaned over his assistant’s shoulder, impatiently looking at a blank computer screen. And then, right on time, the screen flickered and split to show two charts, side by side. Points started blinking faintly, and small words began running along different lines: heart rate, temperature, blood oxygen saturation level, and so on.
His assistant peered at the charts for a moment, then typed “Maximum” on one side and “Angel” on the other. Mr. Chu became lost in reviewing the biological data streaming in from the microscopic monitors.
“Mr. Chu? You have a visitor, sir.” An
other assistant stood in the trailer doorway, one hand on his weapon, as required.
Mr. Chu went down the short, narrow hall to the small receiving room. A young girl in a yellow dress stood there, twisting one of her thin braids between nervous fingers.
“Hello, Jeanne,” said Mr. Chu, smiling. Jeanne managed a tiny smile back. “You were successful in your mission,” said Mr. Chu, motioning to an assistant.