The Fifth Harmonic Read Free Page A

distracted.”
    She now began rotating the tine over his lower abdomen. Once she seemed satisfied there, she switched to another tine, this with golden highlights, plucked it, and rotated it over his solar plexus. After a short stay there, she glided it up to his heart. A moment or two later, she gave a faint nod. No problem there, apparently.
    Will held his breath as she plucked the tine that gave off greenish hues and brought it toward his throat. This is it, lady. This is where you blow it.
    She poised the tine over his turtleneck collar, then—
    “Oh!”
    She blinked and snatched her hand back; he felt the tine drop against his throat.
    “What's the matter?” he said, feeling an uneasy chill dance up his spine. Had she really sensed something?
    “Wait,” she said. “Just give me a minute.”
    She retrieved the tine and again poised it over his throat. He couldn't see the metal but he thought he heard its hum change in pitch. He watched her troubled expression. Finally she rose and turned away.
    “Your fifth chakra—your throat—you are very ill.”
    Will lay still a moment. How did she know? How could she know?
    “What's wrong?” he said, trying to sound calm, hiding his agitation by pushing himself to his feet and brushing the sand off his clothes.
    “There is a traitor in your fifth chakra. Mutiny.” She turned to him now, pain in her eyes. “You need to see a doctor.”
    “I have. I've had all the necessary tests.” He pulled down the turtleneck collar to reveal the two-inch scar on the right side of his throat. “Even a lymph node biopsy.”
    “What did they find?”
    “A very aggressive tumor at the base of my tongue; it's already begun to infiltrate my larynx—my voice box.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    Will felt a hot blast of anger—Like hell you do!—but it cooled quickly as he remembered what she'd said a moment ago: There is a traitor in your fifth chakra. Mutiny. She was right. What else was a tumor but a traitor—a cluster of his own cells that had gone mutinous and turned against him?
    “Can you help me?” he said.
    She shook her head. “You must see a specialist. I can recommend some.”
    That floored him. She was sending him away—referring him. A bitter laugh rose in his throat.
    “Been there, done that,” he said. “I've been to the best.”
    “It is incurable?”
    “No. It's curable. But the cure is unacceptable.”
    “What—?”
    “I don't want to go into all that now. All I want to know is if you can do for me what you did for Savanna.”
    Or what Savanna thinks you did for her.
    How pathetic. Am I so desperate that I'll stoop to humoring a new-age nutcase on the outside chance that some sort of miracle lightning will strike?
    Yes. He was that desperate. Because he had no other options, nowhere else to go.
    “I don't know,” she said slowly. “It is possible, but it will be especially difficult with one such as you.”
    “What's that mean?”
    “You are closed off—you are one of the most closed-off people I have ever met.”
    I'll take that as a compliment, he thought. He seated himself and began slipping back into his socks and shoes.
    “You must be open if I am to help you. I must think on this. May I get back to you?”
    Will wasn't sure if he should feel disappointed that she was putting him off, or elated because he didn't have to decide right here and now whether or not to commit to a course of hocus-pocus medicine.
    “Sure. But don't wait too long. One thing I don't have a lot of is time.”
    “How long do you have?”
    Will felt his throat constrict. “Well, if I don't go for the surgery and the umpteen radiation treatments it'll take to kill this thing— and I'm doing neither—they tell me that I've definitely seen my last Christmas tree. Maybe even my last Thanksgiving turkey.”
    Will saw her shudder. He wondered how he'd looked when he first heard the news. He found himself still unable to accept the fact that the remaining months of his life could