Chapter 52: Non-Negotiable

Maria spun in a circle, making Rachel’s ears go stiff as she shoved her back with a curse; she managed to twist around to stumble between some of her shouting gang members, with the unicorn’s energy mending her.

"Eres un maldito desastre!" she snarled. "Why is your condition getting worse?! Shit. Are you trying to merk me, chica—take me down with you?"

The unicorn’s teenage brother had woken up from the shouts. "Eh, hermana?"

"Uh... I guess my lunar energy is reinforcing my organs?" Rachel guessed. "If I go in the sun—"

"I get it! Shit... Aye, hermanito, get a blanket, huh? The damn banana-eared moon hare is trying to give me a heart attack! How the hell do you let yourself get so torn up—brain damage?"

Her brother jumped into action with another beastkin girl who looked like a honey badger, tossing it to him to run over; Maria ordered them to put it up by a wall so she could stand in the unfiltered beams by the door and remain in sight of her to allow her horn’s rays to restore her body—unfortunately, it didn’t help much.

Rachel’s smile strained under her cross-armed scowl; the pain eased with her golden horn’s glow, but she was also growing weaker. "Umm... Is your healing solar-based when using the sun’s energy?"

"Tsk... You owe me, chica. And what do you think, stupid?"

The unicorn grimaced, light intensifying as a crowd started to form; it took fifteen minutes, with Maria’s face pinching further with every minute, making it look like she had a stomach ache. Once it was done, not an ounce of lunar energy was left in her, leaving Rachel as weak or weaker than most of the women watching the magical operation.

"Maria..."

The woman’s nose twisted with agitation as her brother brought over a chair for her to sit on, with a towel to wipe away the sweat on her brow. "Aye, you owe me after that, chica—I practically healed ten people on you, bitch... Shit. What?"

Rachel crossed her arms, studying the unicorn as her crew rushed to bring her fruit, drinks, or anything else to help. "No disrespect, but have you ever considered you’re wasting your talents?"

"The hell are you talking about?" she muttered before drinking some water.

"Listen, I do owe you... Do you want to make money to set up your entire block for life—live the good life—and learn how to really use your powers? Come to the fourth floor and talk to me when you want to enter the big leagues. I’m not talking millions... You’re worth more than that."

Laughter and Spanish conversations followed her statement as Rachel turned around and walked away, but Maria didn’t join in; after all, she knew she wasn’t joking.

Roy met her at the exit to return upstairs. "Organ failure, huh?"

"Yeah. Crazy, huh?" she smiled. "Now I know my limits and threshold."

"Pfft! What a way to look at almost dying. You really are insane, Rachel; you know what they were saying?"

She shook her head. "What?"

"A cold-blooded monster—basically, they think you’re a robot with the way Maria talked about how torn up your organs and muscles were and how nonchalant you were acting... You weren’t going to heal with time, Rachel."

Rachel shot an impish smirk his way, hands held behind her back with a spring in her step now that she was right as rain. "Concerned about me? That’s sweet, Roy. Hehe. No, I understand, but didn’t I tell you I had a plan? Oh! I don’t feel super tired now—I’ll need to sleep, but why don’t we stop off on floor six real fast?"

"Anthony?" Roy asked with a lifted eyebrow as they stopped before the elevator, waiting for it to come down. "Look, I’m just trying to say, maybe it would be better to take a break from the training and relax; you can’t train twenty-four-seven."

"Oh?" Rachel watched the numbers descend with a tilt to her lips. "With Maria, I think I can, and I have another method to try tonight. Let’s go."

Heading up to the top floor, they stopped outside the door to Amelia’s room. The two Green Berets greeted Roy as Rachel held a finger to her lips while slipping inside. A silent chuckle shook her stomach upon seeing Anthony’s flaming head resting on the foot of the young woman’s bed.

Amelia’s gaze drifted from her passed-out fiancé to her, focus rising to her ears before sweeping the rest of her appearance; the terminal cancer patient had lost all of her hair, and black rings were under her brown eyes, but she wore a soft smile.

"Rachel, I presume," the woman whispered, careful with how she shifted in bed as her morphine drip continued to ease her pain. Rachel had heard from the doctors’ conversations that she only had a few months to live. "How many times have you heard me ask you to come?"

"Three," she casually responded, taking a nearby seat.

"Hmm? I guess you aren’t as omniscient as Anthony thinks," she quietly giggled. "I actually did it five times."

"Sly, Mrs. Fiancée." Rachel smiled, trying to draw favor from the girl by recognizing that she was practically already married to Anthony while she leaned back and crossed her legs. "I’ve tried to give you some privacy, but I couldn’t help overhearing his plan to find a cure through his quests. You don’t sound convinced, though."

Amelia leaned over to take one of the Jell-O cups one of the nurses had brought earlier. "Only because he doesn’t sound convinced... Tell me, Rachel, does Anthony think my worsening condition is due to his change?"

Sighing, Rachel gave a helpless shrug. "It’s...seemingly connected to his legend. Still, a cure might be found in other ways; there are other options we can consider."

"Maria?" she asked, eyes downcast before moving to her man and ruffling her hair. Amelia doubled over, stifling a cough and dropping her jello. "Anthony already tried before you arrived... She says it’s immutable—at least for now."

"Ah...So that’s why he blames himself," Rachel whispered, vision falling to the floor as she pondered the response, watching the woman recover. "I wouldn’t give up hope; magical curses are real now, but so are cures."

Amelia gave her a dubious smile. "From everything I’ve heard, Rachel, you don’t do anything without a purpose. You want my fiancé’s help with dangerous tasks...danger he might throw himself at in grief, anguish, or as a form of punishment. I don’t want that. So let me clarify this: if you can’t make his life more positive, I don’t want you in it."

Rachel’s lips drew in at the steel in Amelia’s voice and eyes as she made her feelings known; it was a threat, and she wasn’t finished.

"I won’t let you use me as a ball and chain around his heart to pull him into the madness you seem to crave. I will convince him to reject whatever you offer, and you know I’m not bluffing. I want Anthony to live...to feel alive again—I don’t like seeing him depressed and desperate," she whispered, face pinched with frustration. "Tell me how your plan will make him happy, and I’ll make sure he goes down that path...because I don’t have an answer anymore, which scares me."

Looking away, Rachel chewed on the inside of her cheek for a minute, deep in thought; it was a challenge, but she loved challenges. Nodding without a word, she got up and left; she had adjustments to make.