Shadowed Read online

  “Hey,” he shouted. “Easy with the water, sweetheart. We don’t know if the reclamation unit’s been damaged or not. We won’t last a solar week out here if you use up all the available resources.”

  The water shut off, and he was certain she was probably standing in the next room fuming silently. Probably, she wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night—or day—or whatever time it was here. But then, to his surprise, she came back after all. She was carrying a bowl of steaming water and a white washing cloth she must have found among the ship’s linens.

  Reddix eyed her mistrustfully. “What are you planning to do with that?”

  “You said you wanted to be ugly—well, you’re making a pretty good start,” Nina said tartly. She sat the steaming bowl down on the floor and crouched beside him. “That gash on your forehead is going to leave a nasty scar, and it’ll probably get infected if I don’t wash it out.” She wrung out the cloth and held it in one hand while she reached for his face with the other. “Now just hold still—”

  “Don’t.” Reddix felt a surge of panic. He might be numb to her emotions now, but he was sure he would be able to feel them the minute she touched his bare skin. He didn’t want that—didn’t want the comforting numbness to go away, only to be replaced by the horrible crawling sensation of her feelings worming their way over his body. The very idea made him nauseous.

  “But—” Nina looked confused, but her hand still hovered in the air, right in front of his face.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled at her. “I mean it!”

  Nina drew back. “Okay, okay, I get it—you think I want to hurt you because you hurt me. An eye for an eye, right? Well, that’s probably what you deserve, but I’m not that kind of person. I’m into healing—not hurting. I want to go back to school and become a PA—a physician’s assistant. So you don’t have to worry that I’ll try to harm you.”

  “It’s not that.” Reddix’s voice sounded harsh, even in his own ears. “I remember what I saw in the dreams we shared—I know you’re a healer.”

  “Then you know I won’t hurt you.” She dipped the cloth in the steaming water again and wrung it out. “So if you’ll just hold still—”

  “No,” he snapped, evading her hand.

  She frowned. “Look, I worked my way through massage therapy school as an aide in a nursing home. I’ve seen some nasty injuries, and I can tell when a cut looks bad. I can promise you that’s going to get infected if I don’t clean it out. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Reddix admitted grudgingly. “But why don’t you just let me loose and let me clean it out myself? I’ll swear not to hurt you.”

  “Fat chance, buddy.” Nina crossed her arms over her chest, apparently heedless of the dripping cloth. “You’re not going anywhere. So you have two options—let me clean the cut, or get a nasty infection and possibly die of it while we’re out here marooned on an alien planet. Your choice.”

  Reddix considered her for a long moment. It was true that the area above his left eyebrow ached and stung, and he could feel the tackiness of dried blood across his forehead and down his cheek. The last thing he needed was to be undermined by an infection—especially now when he would probably need all his strength to fix the ship—if it was even fixable.

  “Well?” Nina raised an eyebrow at him. “The water’s getting cold. Make up your mind.”

  “Fine,” he said at last, grudgingly. “But only if you can clean it without touching my skin.” Seeing her uncomprehending look, he continued. “Just use the cloth—don’t put your hand on me, don’t touch your bare skin to mine in any way. Got it?”

  Nina looked offended. “Are you some kind of germaphobe? You’re afraid I’ll contaminate you with my Earth germs or something?”

  “No,” Reddix said shortly. “With your feelings. Can you clean it without touching me or not?”

  “Sure, I guess.” Still frowning, she shrugged and dipped the cloth in the water a third time. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “That’s the only way I want it,” Reddix growled. “Just don’t touch me, and I’ll be fine.”

  “All right, all right.” She still looked offended as she began to wipe the stinging cut carefully. “You didn’t seem to have any problem with bare skin contact when you grabbed me.”

  “That was different,” Reddix muttered, closing his eyes as she continued to dab at the wound. “An exception. I usually never touch anyone.”

  “What—never?” She sounded surprised. “Is that some kind of an OCD thing?”

  He frowned. “OCD? I don’t know that word.”

  “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Sometimes people who have it feel the need to wash their hands over and over or—”

  “No, nothing like that.” Reddix shook his head. “It’s an RTS thing.”

  “RTS? What’s that?”

  “Reverse Touch Syndrome,” he said and was immediately irritated with himself for revealing another personal detail to her when he ought to be keeping her at an arm’s length.

  “Reverse Touch Syndrome? I’ve worked with a lot of clients that have different problems, but I’ve never heard of that. What is it? Like Fibromyalgia or something?”

  “It’s nothing—nothing that concerns you.” He jerked his head away from the dabbing cloth. “Are you almost done?”

  “Just need to clean off the blood on your face.” She dipped the cloth again and wrung it out. “You’re not very grateful, you know. In fact, you’re a grumpy bastard.”

  “Yeah, well, I—” he began, and then his stomach growled loudly.

  Nina looked amused. “Okay, that explains it—at least partially.”

  Reddix frowned, angry at his body for showing weakness.

  “Explains what?”

  “You’re hungry. Mehoo always says hunger turns a man into a bear.”

  “Thought I was already a bear,” he said. “What in the Seven Hells is a bear, anyway?”

  Nina frowned as she wiped his face, being careful not to touch his skin.

  “A big, shaggy, solitary animal that lives by itself in the forest. As long as you leave them alone, they’re harmless. But if you make one angry…” She shook her head and shivered.

  “What?” Reddix was interested despite himself. “Tell me—what’s so bad about a bear?”

  Nina sighed and put the cloth back in the water.

  “My dad had a friend once who liked to go hunting—Uncle Jerry we called him. Dad went with him on a trip to Alaska to do some photography. I was little at the time, only eight, but I still remember when my father came home he hugged me so hard it hurt…and he cried. My dad never cries, but that one time he did.”

  “Because…?” Reddix nodded for her to go on.

  “Basically because during the trip, he thought he was never going to see me again.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dad and Uncle Jerry were attacked by a Kodiak bear up there—a kind of really big grizzly. They can get over nine feet tall on their hind legs, and they’re massive.” She shivered again. “I heard my dad telling my mom about it later. He got up into a tree in time, but his friend wasn’t fast enough and neither one of them had their rifles. Dad saw the whole thing. I can still remember him saying, ‘It ripped his fucking head off, baby. I sat up there in that tree while it gnawed on Jerry like a dog with a chew toy, and I couldn’t do a Goddamn thing to stop it.’” Nina shook her head. “I was just a kid, and I really liked Uncle Jerry. I used to have these nightmares about what happened to him, and later I had dreams about a talking bear. Maybe that’s why Mehoo-Jimmy says the bear is my spirit animal.”

  She wiped her face with her free hand, and Reddix realized she was crying a little. Normally he hated to be around anyone having emotional trauma—sorrow and grief pierced him like knives and made his stomach feel like it was filled with sharp, pointy rocks. His first reaction when someone started crying was to get away. But sitting here with Nina, still unable to feel her emotions, he