A Witch's Handbook of Kisses and Curses Read Online Free PDF Page A

like to talk about your ribs, or are you going to continue ‘playing through the pain’?” I asked.
    Miranda blushed. “That obvious, is it? I thought I was doing a better job of covering.”
    “Oh, you were the soul of discretion,” I assured her. “I’m just a bit sensitive to these things.”
    She chuckled, wincing as her stomach muscles tightened. “I guess you would be, being a nurse and all.”
    I nodded, smiling blithely. Now was definitely not the time to try to squeeze “I have an extrasensory perception that allows me to feel your pain” into the conversation.
    “Would you like me to take a look?” I asked.
    “Right here?”
    “Why not?” I chuckled, stepping closer. “Want to tell me how this happened? And why you haven’t been to see a doctor?”
    “No and no,” she said, shaking her head.
    I held my hands over Miranda’s shoulders. While the pain throbbed steadily with every breath, her lungs felt clear. There was no puncture there, but her ribs were thoroughly bruised. It felt like some sort of side impact, as if she’d been thrown into a corner or a piece of furniture.
    “Miranda, did someone hurt you?” I asked, feeling a sudden urge to find this “Collin” and introduce him to an old-fashioned Kilcairy arse-whipping.
    Miranda closed her eyes, her face flushing red. “No,” she groaned, clapping a hand over her face. “As usual, I have no one to blame but myself. Let’s just say that when one is having athletic makeup sex with her vampire boyfriend, she should hold on for dear life. Particularly when there is a pointy nightstand nearby.”
    “Are you telling me you fell off your undead boyfriend while having sex and landed against a nightstand, bruising your ribs?”
    She shook her head. “I blew the dismount.”
    “I don’t think I want the details of his dismount,” I said, laughing. I held my hand against her ribs as she snickeredin response. The bones felt sound. It would be a simple enough thing to heal, but I needed to stay under the radar. So I gave her my best serious, professional expression and told her, “Ice and ibuprofen. Deep-breathing exercises and gentle stretching if you feel up to it. Just take it easy. If the pain gets worse or it becomes difficult to breathe, go to your doctor right away.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief as we climbed into the car. “I was really afraid I’d done myself permanent damage this time. What do I owe you for the consult?”
    “Tell Collin to be more careful with his breakable girlfriend,” I told her as she blushed crimson again. “You shameless sex maniac.”
    As Miranda started the car and backed out of the car park, I waited for her to relaunch her verbal barrage. But in her embarrassment, she seemed to be concentrating on maneuvering the car safely, so I took advantage of the silence. I breathed deeply, trying to center my thoughts and regain the energy it had taken to check Miranda’s ribs.
    Being a medical empath was not an easy gift. Often, when I came across people with medical problems, I felt a “tug” of pressure in my own body reflecting the area of their body where they were ailing. And I came across a lot of people with medical problems. And sometimes, if I did nothing to heal them, or at least talk to them about how to improve their problem, the pressure would get worse, and I would get sick myself.
    My gift was the reason I couldn’t practice in a large hospital setting. The discomfort and “tugging” were sodraining that I would keel over by the end of the day. It was easy to spend time with Stephen because he was a health nut who rarely came down with so much as a cold.
    Being a hereditary witch is like inheriting frizzy hair or an unfortunate nose. I had no choice in the matter. For my family, witchcraft wasn’t quite a religion. It simply was . It was part of our lives, the way we saw and interacted with the world. I couldn’t turn it off, no matter how I tried.