“Help me,” he repeated. His words snapped me out of the strange, dreamlike trance and the city’s sounds assaulted my ears once again. Automatically, I dropped my phone on the pavement, barely noticing the cover popping off, and reached for his hand.
A burning jolt seared through my fingers and into my veins, the pain bringing tears to my eyes, and I wondered if this was what electrocution felt like. I cried out between chattering teeth as a strange scent, like scorched perfume or incense, assaulted my nose. Just as quickly as it had come, the agony began to diminish, turning into a warm, tingling sensation that lifted my hair at its roots and caused wispy tendrils to float with a static charge. There seemed to be an invisible barrier between us and the crowd. Though they snapped pictures, no one approached.
My muscles trembled from aftershock. I felt wrung out, like I’d been shoved into a dryer and tumbled around until I emerged in a fried, wrinkled heap. Someone squeezed my hand.
My eyes flew open, and suddenly remembering where I was, I yanked my hand from the man’s grip. “What was that?” I demanded. The euphoria of being a Good Samaritan had abruptly faded, replaced by shock at what had just occurred between us.
“What did you do?” I half questioned, half accused. I felt as if I had been violated, but I couldn’t really figure out why, and the uncertainty brought fresh tears to my eyes.
He studied me for a moment, and I got the distinct impression that he regretted what he’d done. Not deigning to give me an answer, he sighed, wiping the blood off his lip, and carefully stood up, testing each leg as if unsure it would hold him. The people around us gasped in amazement, snapping dozens more pictures of this miracle man.
That he was healed enough to walk was not nearly as surprising as how he handled the crowd. He was model-tall, and since I was still kneeling, I had to crane my neck to see him. The sun was right over his head, which, from my perspective, gave him a halo effect so bright I could barely look at him.
Seeming to enjoy the attention he’d brought to himself, he nodded to the people, smiling as he turned in a slow circle to look at all of them.
When he was satisfied, he stuck out his hand imperiously. “Come, Young Lily,” he said in a rich voice. “There is much to do.”
I was about to tell him where he could go stick his arrogant attitude along with his sexy accent, when he gave me the piercing gaze again. My vision blurred as everything around me took on a dreamlike quality, the urge to fight leaving me just as quickly as it had come. Feeling very unlike myself, I gathered up my phone like I didn’t have a care in the world, shoved it into my bag, and allowed him to help me up.
Standing so abruptly made me woozy, and he put his hand on my back to steady me. I was uncomfortable with his forwardness and attempted to stagger away from him to wrestle my own way through the crowd, but he wouldn’t have it. “You will stay by my side, Young Lily.”
He took my hand and placed it on his arm, as if he were escorting me to a ball, before moving forward. The people parted like the Red Sea, and he strode through the crowd as boldly and as regally as a prophet. In the now filthy and torn pleated kilt-thing he very much looked the part.
As we walked, I tried to focus. I knew there was something very fishy going on and that my behavior was out of character, but I couldn’t seem to break away from the guy or the haze that I was swimming in. Still, I vowed that, miraculous recovery or not, he would have to think twice if he presumed I was going to morph into a faithful follower, despite my actions to the contrary.
When we reached the sidewalk, we passed my openmouthed trio of classmates, their noses pressed up against the restaurant’s glass wall.
“I am sorry to involve you in this, Young Lily, but it is necessary,” he said, after we were a few blocks from the incident.
“What exactly am I involved in?” I hissed, still uncomfortable around him and itchy to escape yet compelled to stay by his side.
He covered my hand with his now-healed one and sighed. “There is too much to explain, and this is not the right place.”