Healing Hands Books Novels & Stories

She exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Is it that bad?" I asked and looked down at my legs just to discover that my skin was torn and I could already see my flesh. I exclaimed loudly, my voice echoing through the whole dark forest. "Oh my gosh!" The pain suddenly electrified my whole body as my eyes found it. My breathing became uneven as I looked at my leg. I managed to swim out of the river with that. Serena pushed my head back down on the grass. "Take a deep breath," she told me as she began to twist and make shapes with her hands. "I will heal your wounds."

How good it must feel to be one with him. He dropped the glass and licked his lips. A heat rose in my cheeks and I immediately pressed my thighs together. How could I be getting hot for a sick man. “I wasn't dead, you know. I saw you screaming my name, and I felt your hand in mine.” “It could have been anybody's hand.” I said, heat rising up my cheeks quickly. I scratched the back of my head. How the hell did he know that I was the one? “I know what your hand feels like.” He said like he could hear my thoughts.

She encouraged me to keep bending my fingers, even though it often hurt. She had removed the splints from my hand, but I still needed to keep my three fingers bandaged for a couple more days to ensure they healed correctly. The splints had made me itch terribly, so I was relieved when they were removed. Xander’s healing ability had been a significant factor in speeding up the healing process.

He closed his eyes with the pain and when he opened them again, the sight of the dog met him. The dog came to him and healed the small joint injuries that were still left from the time the Guards took him. The injuries they inflicted were permanent, which no one could heal. He felt relieved, but then looked at a book. This was a unique book, not like the one he had seen before. It did not have the names of both of them. It only showed his name. This book was about him.

He would never be the same. I read over an array of salves, of healing ointments and cosmetic fixes, but nothing about repairing bone or life. It was all surface layer healing. In my witch books, there were no solutions to bringing someone back to life besides sacrificing your own self. I found nothing useful, not even aid for a head wound. By the time there was a stacked pile upon the table, I realized I never found the book I was waiting to discover in the section. I got up to look for it, but it was clearly missing.

She closed her eyes and touched her index finger and thumb together on both hands and brought them together on her chest level, twisting her hand until on hand was on top and the other under, her fingers on each hand pointing in the opposite direction as described in the book, then in one swift move, she twisted her hand around, wrapping it into the shape of a ball and then gradually drew them apart, a small ball of white light began to form from between her palms. She felt the sizzling energy and opened her eyes, her face shone with excitement at what she had just done and she glowed in happiness. The ball grew to a sizeable amount and then she held it with just one hand, the ball of energy

I flip to another page, reading her mother’s notes on cures and medicines that she has made for many diseases and illnesses that both Lycans and Werewolves succumb to. These pages are filled with endless information that is basically unknown to the Healers inside of my pack. I wonder how much good Healer Anderson — and Celia if I am able to find and rescue her — can do with these notes. Can we heal as many people as we possibly can? Would we be able to eradicate diseases and make society healthier than it ever will be? I continue to flip through the pages. I stop at a page that has a faded photograph on the inside. I take it out and look at the smiling faces.

The memory flashed so bright in my mind that I almost dropped the scalpel. But I also remembered something else. I remembered Pa Orloff holding my hands and telling me that healing was not something you did only for people you liked. It was something you did because life was precious, even when the person was not. That memory gave me courage. I made the cut. The line opened across his chest and blood rose in a thin dark stripe. The healers gasped. One of them murmured something like a prayer. I kept going. My hands moved exactly the way Pa Orloff taught me. Slow but steady. Careful but not scared.

I knocked on the door. "Come in," his deep voice said. Noah sat at his big desk. His grandmother's journals were open in front of him. He looked up when I entered. His eyes moved right away to my hand. "Your hand," he said. His voice was flat. No emotion. "It's healed." I nodded. I took out my notepad. I wrote carefully. The healer came this morning. She said the fire made my wolf healing slow. But my body fought it off. She said I am completely healed now.

He only glanced away when I looked at him. He nodded in satisfaction and put on white medical gloves before going behind me. "Now, we'll begin the first step." Before I was ready, he popped out from behind me. "Doctor!" I grabbed his hand reflexively to stop him. "Let go," he said. His breath blew on my ear, feeling hot and scalding. My ears were burning, and I didn't even have to see myself to know that I had turned bright red. I had no choice but to put my hands down obediently while Nicholas continued pressing with his hands.