I’d never been allowed near the child, but Lacey was already one of them. Trusted.

We went straight to the south tunnel, Jared and Ian laboring under the weight of the Healers. Ian had the heavier one, the man, and sweat ran down his fair face. Jeb shooed the others back at the tunnel entrance and then followed us.

Doc was waiting for us in the hospital, rubbing his hands together absently, as if washing them.

Time continued to speed up. The brighter lamp was lit. The Healers were given No Pain and laid out facedown on the cots. Jared showed Ian how to activate the tanks. They held them ready, Ian wincing at the stunning cold. Doc stood over the female, scalpel in hand and medicines laid out in a row.

“Wanda?” he asked.

My heart squeezed inward painfully. “Do you swear, Doc? All of my terms? Do you promise me on your own life?”

“I do. I will meet all of your terms, Wanda. I swear it.”

“Jared?”

“Yes. Absolutely no killing, ever.”

“Ian?”

“I’ll protect them with my own life, Wanda.”

“Jeb?”

“It’s my house. Anyone who can’t abide by this agreement will have to get out.”

I nodded, tears in my eyes. “Okay, then. Let’s get it over with.”

Doc, excited again, cut into the Healer until he could see the silver gleam. He set the scalpel quickly aside. “Now what?”

I put my hand on his.

“Trace up the back ridge. Can you feel that? Feel the shape of the segments. They get smaller toward the anterior section. Okay, at the end you should feel three small… stubby things. Do you feel what I’m talking about?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Good. Those are the anterior antennae. Start there. Now, very gently, roll your finger under the body. Find the line of attachments. They’ll feel tight, like wires.”

He nodded.

I guided him a third of the way down, told him how to count if he wasn’t sure. We didn’t have time for counting with all the blood flowing free. I was sure the Healer’s body, if she came around, would be able to help us—there must be something for that. I helped him find the biggest nodule.

“Now, rub softly in toward the body. Knead it lightly.”

Doc’s voice went up in pitch, turned a little panicky. “It’s moving.”

“That’s good—it means you’re doing it right. Give it time to retract. Wait till it rolls up a bit, then take it into your hand.”

“Okay.” His voice shook.

I reached toward Ian. “Give me your hand.”

I felt Ian’s hand wind around mine. I turned it over, curled his hand into a cup, and pulled it close to Doc’s operation site.

“Give the soul to Ian—gently, please.”

Ian would be the perfect assistant. When I was gone, who else would take such care with my little relatives?