Plague

kill it,” Sanjit said.
    “And failed.”
    “But tried. If you were a guy, I’d say you had a big brass pair.”
    Lana laughed, caught herself, laughed again. Then she kept laughing, stopping, trying not to laugh again, and failing.
    “I don’t know why I’m laughing,” she said, almost apologizing and definitely puzzled.
    Sanjit smiled.
    “I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Lana said again.
    “You’re probably a little stressed,” Sanjit said dryly.
    “You think?”
    Lana laughed again and Sanjit realized he was really enjoying her laugh. It wasn’t silly or hysterical. It was, like everything about this strange girl, wise, sardonic. Profound. Mesmerizing.
    “Oh, dude,” she said, sobering. “Is that what you’re here for? Laughter is the best medicine? Is that it? Am I your act of charity or whatever? Heal the Healer with the power of laughter?”
    The full force of her cynicism was back on display.
    “I don’t think I want to heal you,” Sanjit said.
    “Why not?” she snapped. “I mean, let’s not lie, huh? I’m about as screwed up as a girl can be. I am a monument to screwed up. Why don’t you want to heal me? I’m a freaking mess!”
    Sanjit shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “You think I’m so messed up, it will be easy to get into my pants, is that it? I’m an easy target?”
    “Lana,” Sanjit said, “you carry a pistol and look like you’ll use it. You have a dog. You tried to kill a monster all on your own. Trust me when I say, no one. No. One. No one looks at you and thinks, ‘She’ll be easy.’”
    Lana sighed wearily, but Sanjit didn’t believe the sigh or the weariness. No. She wasn’t tired of him.
    He said, “I saw you. I heard your voice. I connected. It’s not very complicated. I just had a feeling. . . .”
    “Feeling?”
    Sanjit shrugged. “Yeah. A feeling. Like the whole point of my life, from the alleys in Bangkok, to the yachts and private island, to coming here like a crazy person trying to fly a helicopter, like all of it, from birth to here, point A to point Z, was all some big cosmic trick to get me to meet you.”
    “Whatever,” she said dismissively.
    He waited.
    “The other day you said I was the second bravest girl you ever met. Who was number one?”
    Sanjit’s smile disappeared. In the space of a heartbeat he was back there, in that filthy alley smelling of rotten fish, curry, and urine.
    “The pimp who knocked my teeth out? He was going to finish me off,” Sanjit said. “You know? To send the message that you couldn’t refuse him. He had a knife. And man, I was already half dead. I couldn’t even move. And this girl was there. No idea where she came from. I never saw her before. She, uh . . .”
    Suddenly, to his own amazement, he couldn’t talk. Lana waited until he found his voice again. “She came up to the guy and just said, ‘Don’t hurt him anymore.’”
    “So he let you go? Just like that?”
    “Not quite. Not quite. She was a pretty girl, maybe eleven, twelve years old. So, you know, a nice-looking young boy is worth some cash to a pimp. But a pretty young girl, well, she was worth more.”
    “He took her?”
    Sanjit nodded. “I was sick for about a week, I guess. Thought I was going to die. Crawled as far as a pile of garbage and just . . . Anyway, when I was able to move again I looked for her. But I didn’t find her.”
    The two of them sat there looking at each other. It seemed to go on for quite a while.
    “I have to go to town,” Lana said finally. “I can’t seem to cure the flu thing. So much for being the Healer. But I can at least deal with the usual broken bones and burns and so on.”
    “Of course,” Sanjit said and stood up. “I’ll let you go.”
    “I didn’t say you couldn’t come with me,” Lana practically snarled.
    Sanjit suppressed the smile that wanted badly to break out across his face. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Chapter Seventeen
33 HOURS, 14 MINUTES

    “DEKKA. WAKE UP.”
    Her eyes opened. She blinked up at Sam. It was full daylight. Not even early morning, later. She had slept a long time.
    A sharp intake of breath. She jumped up and began patting her body, probing, pushing, feeling for anything that shouldn’t be there.
    The divot in her shoulder burned like fire.
    Her stomach growled. Her feet ached. Her scraped shins hurt. So did her back from sleeping on a rock.
    “I hurt all over,” Dekka said.
    Sam looked concerned.
    “I mean, that’s good. Hunter couldn’t