Healing Hands Books Novels & Stories

My name is Henry Parker, I own the bookstore. An attendant passed by Henry and he handed him Amelia's order. "Can I sit down?" Henry asked, pointing to a nearby armchair. 'Sure, it's your bookshop. ' Amelia joked, and he sat down. "Are you a doctor, Miss Jones?" he asked curiously. " Nurse. And you can call me Amelia. ' She quickly asked. "And what are you reading?" Henry asked, Amelia soon noticing that he was too interested. 'The Hill of the Howling Winds. ' She said as she showed him the cover of the book.

--- He starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, slow, uncoordinated, and turns slightly away from me like some instinct in him still remembers manners even three drinks past sober. I reach over and turn him back. His hands are warm when I take them, steadier than I expect for how far gone he is. I should let go. I don't. He watches me, eyes heavy from exhaustion and alcohol. I let my hand move to his chest before I think about it and feel his shirt still half open, feel his heart beating too fast under my palm. Regret flashes through me immediately. It doesn't stop my hands from going further. He keeps watching me without pulling away.

even if it meant I would suffer his pain. When I got my voice, something else came with it. A kind of healing power that made me able to heal people by placing my hands on them. The catch was that I was going to feel their pain. “Who are you?” I asked no one in particular. I didn’t understand why the thought of him never waking up terrified me. I placed my hands above its body and closed my eyes. This was the only way. I felt my palm grow warmer under his fur and soon, I felt searing pain through my hands. It was low at first, but it intensified so much, I had to bite down on my lips. I didn't take my hands away and shut my eyes tighter to concentrate.

Normal life, continuing despite everything. People greeted me warmly as we passed, offering congratulations on the pregnancy, asking about the Alpha, expressing hope that the troubles would soon be over. I smiled and nodded and tried to project a confidence I didn't entirely feel. We stopped at the healer's house first, where an elderly woman was recovering from a fall. I placed my hands on her fractured arm, letting the golden light flow from my palms, feeling the bone knit back together beneath my touch. It felt good. Right. This was what I was meant to do.

Love raise his hand and proudly smiled but as Zayn glared at him, he coughed. "Z e k e." Zayn exhaled deeply. He was right because they had nothing but empty space in place of their brain. Hyun tugged on the sleeve of God of healing. "M y... h e a r t... i s... c r y i n g. I... n e e d... h e a l i n g. I... n e e d... m y... h e a l e r." He cried as Zayn pulled his sleeve out of his grip.

I slowly let go of his hand, blinking as I look down. “Where’d you learn that?” He asked. God, that voice. “Umm, I learnt healing from yoga, our pack healer. She visited our university to teach us simple self-healing hacks that could help during pack training. And when, during our private counselling, she said I had the skill to heal, so she taught me how to heal. Plus, healing is one of my minor papers.”

It echoes inside me. Images flicker behind my eyes. Flashes of a lone figure standing beneath a split sky with sunlight and moonlight pouring down at once. Wolves kneeling in a circle around her. A burst of gold and silver fire blooms from her hands, burning away anything corrupt, erasing anything negative, purifying them, healing them not just of physical wounds, but emotional ones too, lighting the wolves from the inside, until they’re brand new.

I heard her whisper in my ear, her breath tickling my ears. Remembering the book was in my bag I let go of Williams hand and grabbed the book opening it to the small pages I found. Reading through them I knew it was some kind of ancient grimoire, nothing made sense for what to do to heal someone in this state. There were spells for fatal wounds, specifying that these were for physical wounds which William had none of them, others mentioned fixing a broken heart but again he didn’t have a broken heart. I made a mental note to look into that one more in the hopes it could help Ashton in the future.

The book is published on a Tuesday in October. It arrives in boxes at the foundation. Real physical books with my name on the cover and the story of everything that came after inside. The second book. The one about healing and ice rituals and children growing up and the specific mundane work of choosing someone again and again.

“This one. Can you get it, please?” Daniel’s hand wrapped around the spine, then he tugged it out and handed it to Rosemary. As she walked back to the table, she hurriedly flipped through it, then tapped her fingers on it and smiled. She set it in front of Daniel as she hovered over his shoulder. “They’re the original Healers, the ones witches like me learned from. They can heal the most deadly wound with just their touch and drive out darkness with a wave of their hand.” She shook her head and twisted her lips as her fingers traced the ancient words. “When they are working, using their healing touch, they glow as bright as the sun. Can you just imagine?”