Black by Ted Dekker Page B

The skin rippled. Shapes of a nose and lips and eyelids rose from the face.
    She poured the water over the rest of the man’s body now, and as quickly as the liquid spread over his skin, the blood dissipated, the redness faded, the cuts filled in with new flesh. The bruises beneath his skin lost their purple color. The man’s broken forearm suddenly jerked from where it lay and began straightening. Gabil yelped and stepped back from the flailing appendage. With a loud pop the arm snapped true.
    Rachelle gazed at the transformed man before her, amazed at his beauty. Golden skin, strong face, muscles that rippled, veins running up his arms. Elyon’s water had healed him completely.
    She’d just chosen this man as her mate, hadn’t she? The thought was almost more than she could comprehend. She had actually just chosen a man! There was still his choosing of her, naturally, but—
    The man heaved a tremendous breath. Gabil uttered a small cry, which alarmed Rachelle even more than the man’s sudden movement. She scrambled back and jumped to her feet.
    The man’s eyes flickered open.

    Bright light filtered into Tom’s eyes and slowly brought him to his senses. His mind scrambled for orientation. A blue sky above. Brilliant green canopy shimmering in the breeze.
    This wasn’t Denver.
    He wasn’t lying on the couch after consuming Demerol after all. Denver had all been a dream. Thank heavens. Which meant . . .
    The black bats.
    Tom jerked himself to a sitting position and faced a forest of trees that shone with amber- and topaz- and ruby-colored trunks. He twisted to his left. Two white creatures gazed at him with curious emerald eyes. Like white cousins to the black bats, with rounded features.
    The smaller of the two looked behind him. Tom followed his stare. A woman with long brown hair, wearing a red satin dress, stood ten feet from him, eyes wide with wonder.
    He rose to his feet, immediately aware that his body wasn’t brutalized. It wasn’t even bloody.
    The woman watched him without moving. The small furry creatures looked up quizzically. He heard rushing water nearby. Where was he? Did he know this woman? These creatures?
    â€œIs there a problem?” the larger of the two white furries asked.
    Tom stared. He had just heard speech come from the lips of an animal. But that was nothing unusual, was it? Not at all. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but they remained muddled.
    â€œYou came from the black forest,” the creature said. “Don’t worry, you didn’t drink the water. I am Michal, this is Gabil, and that” —he pointed his wing at the woman—“is Rachelle.” He said her name as if it should mean something to him. “How do you feel?”
    â€œYes, how do you feel?” the other one, Gabil, repeated.
    Details of his sprint through the black forest strung through his mind. Everything felt vaguely familiar, but his memory didn’t extend beyond last night, when he’d awakened after knocking his head on the rock. He felt for the wound on his skull. Gone.
    He looked down at his body and slowly ran a hand over his bare chest. No cuts, no bruises, not even a hint of the carnage he remembered from the chase.
    Tom looked at the woman. “I feel fine.”
    She arched a brow and smiled. “Fine?” She stepped forward on bare feet and stopped at arm’s length. “What is your name?”
    He hesitated. “Thomas Hunter?”
    â€œSo nice to make your acquaintance, Thomas Hunter.”
    She reached out her hand and he tried to take it, but instead she slid her fingers over his palm. That was the greeting. He’d forgotten even that much.
    â€œYou are a beautiful man, Thomas Hunter,” she said. “I have chosen you.” She said it softly, her eyes bright as stars. Clearly this information implied something significant, but Tom didn’t have the foggiest notion what it could be.