Annie's Song

by Cate Dean

  “It was our pleasure, Zach.” Michelle laid one hand on Penn’s shoulder when she opened her mouth. Zach blinked; it was like watching his mom and Annie. “Feel free to look around. Penn will help you if you have any questions. I need to—damn. Sorry.”

  She covered her mouth and turned away. But not before Zach felt the tingle, moving quickly up to slick pain. Then the emotion-blurred image popped into his head. She lost something.

  “Michelle?” Penn rubbed her back. “Talk to me.”

  “I can’t find the locket,” Michelle whispered. “Mom’s locket.” Zach dropped his cap, clutched the shelf next to him as the pain became a slow, twisting knife in his gut. “Zach?”

  Her voice sounded distant, and the hands that guided him through the shop only intensified the pain, since they belonged to the person who lost. He needed to find . . .

  “Find what, honey?”

  Blinking past the film of tears, he found Michelle in front of him. Kneeling in front of him. Awareness of the chair that held him filtered in through the pain. Taking in a shaky breath, he whispered.

  “Your locket. Need to—find it.”

  “No—he can’t be.” Penn’s disbelief slammed into him like a tidal wave, and he doubled. “Zach—breathe now, that’s it.” He felt her power, a cool wave washing over the heat of his pain. “Sweet God in Heaven—he’s a seeker, Chelle.”

  “That’s not possible. They’re a myth, Penn.”

  “Apparently not. Zach,” her voice was gentle when she said his name. For some reason it twisted the pain in his gut tighter. “Does it hurt you if you can’t look for something you know is lost?”

  “Duh,” he whispered. Annie would have been proud.

  Penn laughed. “Sense of humor intact. That’s good. Michelle, tell him you want him to find the locket.”

  “This is absurd.”

  “Tell him.”

  “Zach.” Her quiet voice touched him like a soft, soothing breeze. “Can you find my locket for me?”

  “No.” Penn sounded impatient. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

  “Right. I want you to find my locket, Zach.”

  “Okay.” The pain eased, like it did before, as soon as she said the words. Two sets of hands helped him sit upright. “I’m okay.”

  “You look like death. Michelle, bring him in back. I know I have some of my roast beef sandwich left from lunch.”

  “Roast beef?” His stomach clenched. As much as he wanted that sandwich, it would have to wait. “Maybe after.” He met Michelle’s gaze, tried not to flinch from the loss he saw there. It was all he could see, all he could feel beyond the pain. “I need to see the locket. I can’t get it clear. Too much emotion attached to it.” He held out his hand.

  Eyebrows raised, Michelle took his hand, her eyes widening. The image snapped into focus, as vivid as if it hung in front of him. And he knew.

  He pushed himself up, every muscle screaming in protest, and limped to the long black marble counter. Michelle followed after him. “No, it can’t be there. I haven’t worn it in the shop all week.”

  “Hush,” Penn said. “Let him do this.”

  The locket in his head got brighter, almost blinding, the closer he got to the counter. One hand caught the edge, the marble cold under his fingers as he slid them along the length of it. He hunched over the counter as a flash burst through his head. Shaking fingers closed over a scarf on the shelf under the counter. He dragged it up, the soft wool feeling like pounds instead of ounces. With a harsh breath he dropped it on the counter.

  The locket glinted against the black marble.

  “Oh God.” Michelle touched the locket. As soon as she did, the pain died, the image fading from his mind. “Oh, my God.” Scooping up the locket, she wrapped her arms around Zach. “Thank you.”

  He felt her shaking, heard the tears in her voice. He still didn’t know how to deal with this part of it. The gratitude, the gushing emotion. He patted her back, awkward, let her hold on to him.

  “The locket is important to her.” Penn stepped into his line of sight, one hand rubbing Michelle’s back. “It belonged to her mother.”

  “I know.” Zach swallowed, not saying what else he knew.

  That her mother died in a car accident. That the locket was the only thing to survive the fire that engulfed the car on impact. He hated the intimate details he learned about the people, the items. But he kept them to himself. He certainly wouldn’t want someone spewing out his secrets. The ones he remembered, anyway.

  Michelle finally let him go, then promptly shoved him on the stool behind the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed to sit?”

  Penn chimed in before Zach had the chance. “Because you were too busy slobbering all over him. Ready for that sandwich now?” He nodded, knowing better than to get in the middle of two women bickering. Mom and Annie did it all the time, and their friendship stayed intact. “Sit here,” she said. “And I’ll—why am I smelling patchouli? We don’t carry any of that disgusting hippie scent.” She headed to a shelf, and Zach caught a whiff of it just before she let out a gasp. “Oh, Lord, Diana. You nearly scared the life out of me.”

  A short, chubby woman stepped out of a niche created by two shelves. Zach knew who it was before she appeared, and regretted his earlier impulse. She was the spooky-eyed woman he ran into on the street, wearing the black cloak that would have been perfect for Halloween. The woman who lost her key, who needed something so badly it kept her up at night.

  “I did not wish to interfere.” She studied Zach, those spooky eyes intense in a way that made his neck hair itchy. “You were obviously too busy to attend to another patron.”

  Penn crossed her arms. Zach could almost see the temper rolling off her, but she kept her voice level. “What can I do for you?”

  Diana pushed one hand through her dull brown hair. It made her look even more unhealthy. “I would like to know if my order arrived.”

  “Not yet,” Michelle said, stepping between the two of them. “I just got the email for the tracking. It will be here by the end of the week.”

  Diana frowned. “And it would have been faster had I gone to Scotland and fetched it myself.” She lifted her chin. “I will accept this delay, but do not expect orders from me in the future.” Her gaze moved past them, and landed on Zach. Those pale grey eyes studied him, and he felt like a specimen under that cold, unblinking scrutiny. He knew she recognized him, but she didn’t say anything about their slap bang meeting. He closed one hand over the amethyst at his throat, forced himself to keep eye contact. “A new errand boy?”

  “The son of a friend.” Penn’s tone clearly told Diana her welcome had worn itself out. “We’ll phone you when your package is here. Unless you came for something else.”

  “No.” She glanced at Zach one last time. “I will expect to hear from you before the week is out.”

  Penn watched her, and after the fairy bell over the door chimed, she let her temper explode. “Overbearing, talentless, meddling bit . . .” Her voice faded when she turned and spotted Zach. “Sorry, kid. She just pushes my buttons, every time.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”

  Laughing, Penn reached over the counter and ruffled his hair. “I’ll get that sandwich for you.”

  Zach waited until she was out of sight before he asked Michelle the question that had been gnawing at him. “What is a seeker?”

  “Oh, Zach.” Michelle took his hands. “I didn’t think you heard that part of the conversation. It’s a myth—someone compelled to find, whether it’s a thing, a person, an idea. I think it depends on the seeker, but, God, they’re not supposed to be real.”

  “How?” He whispered past the lump in his throat. “How does someone become a seeker?”

  Michelle studied him, as if debating whether or not to answer. “They endure a life-altering event, and survive it. And by life-altering, I mean they become something else, something different. You’re a kid, Zach. A normal teenager, who has a gift.
Don’t let Penn’s fanciful ideas sway you. Come on,” She picked up his cap, handed it to him and helped him stand, wrapping one arm around his waist. “You can eat in the back room, and then we’ll take you home.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be fine once I eat.”

  Zach kept quiet while the two women talked around him, eating the sandwich and the big bag of chips—or crisps, as they were called here. Penn’s insistence, and Michelle’s explanation, ran through his mind on a loop, getting louder and louder.

  He wasn’t a normal teenager. Not since the accident. If he was before, he didn’t remember—couldn’t remember, no matter how hard he tried.

  As soon as he knew he’d be able to stand on his own, he thanked them for the food and made his way out of the shop, shoving the cap in his back pocket. He got as far as the side of the building and leaned against it, already sweating and shaky.

  “Good afternoon, young man.” The voice made him jump. He looked up, and met familiar, spooky grey eyes. The salty, nose curling reek of sweat pouring off her almost covered the patchouli. “Do you remember me?”

  “Diana. You were in the shop—”

  “Yes, yes. Good boy. Now give me your hand.” He recognized a spell when it was thrown at him, especially a clumsy spell. Diana looked miffed when he didn’t obey like a willing puppet. “I said, give me your hand.”

  “It doesn’t work on me.”

  “What?” Her voice rose an octave, scraped against his ears. “What are you talking about?”

  “Spell casting. It doesn’t work on me. Never has.”

  “Well.” She caught his arm and dragged him down the narrow alley, surprisingly strong for a chubby woman. Before he could react she pushed him against the wall and pressed a wicked dagger to his throat. His heart skipped as the cold steel slid up until the tip bit into his skin. “I guess we will have to do this the old fashioned way. Come with me, quietly, and your sweet witch mum will not be harmed.”

  Panic burst through him. “How do you know—”

  “I always know when a witch enters my domain. Your friend wore the haze of love over her power, and she posed little danger. Your mother,” she pressed the length of the blade into his throat, until it drew blood. Zach tried not to jerk at the pain, somehow knowing it would only provoke her. “And the man with her, they are trouble. But you, young Zach—you are a boon, sent by the Goddess. When I thought failure would haunt my every attempt, here you are, with your special gift.”

  He met her gaze, feeling the knife blade move as he swallowed. “I find whatever it is you’re looking for, and you leave them alone.”

  She smiled, and it sent a chill through him. “Smart and talented. Explaining my every move does get tiresome. Are we on the same page, Zach?”

  “Yes.” He knew Mom would look for him, but he would do his best to keep this pseudo witch from harming her. No matter what it took. “We are on the same page.”

  “Excellent.” She pulled the knife away, and before he could let out a breath in relief, poked it against his ribs. He felt blood trickle down his side under his sweater. “Now it is time to perform your magic.”

  She pushed him forward, heading away from town, and any help. Zach stumbled, and let out a harsh cry as the blade scraped across his ribs.

  Diana jerked him up, her strength surprising him again. “Quiet, boy. Make another sound and this blade will take a good, long taste. Trust me, you do not want that to happen.”

  Her laughter raised the hair on his arms. Swallowing, flinching as the shallow cut on his throat stung from the movement, he focused on staying upright as she dragged him across an uneven field. Pain licked at the knife wounds, deeper and more draining than it should have been with such minor cuts.

  When his vision blurred, Zach knew the knife that wounded him was more than just a knife. He just hoped the spell on it wasn’t fatal.

  ELEVEN

  “Where’s Zach?” Annie looked up at Claire’s sharp voice. Busy settling Eric in, supervising Marcus—much to his annoyance—she lost track of time, and was surprised to see the sun heading for the horizon.

  “He went to Penn and Michelle’s store, to thank them for helping us. And to poke around, I’m sure. You know how much he loves hanging around the store at home.”

  “He should have been back by now.” Claire grabbed her jacket off the rack near the door. “I’m going to—”

  “Check on him?”

  “We’re in a foreign country, Annie. I have every right to be worried.”

  “Yeah—and he has every right to explore.” She eased Claire away from the door. “You got him a phone. Call him.”

  Letting out her breath, Claire pulled the phone out of her pocket and tapped in his number. “Zach, where are . . .” Her voice faded, and she stared at the phone. “It went to voicemail.”

  “So he turned it off—”

  “He hasn’t turned that phone off since I gave it to him. I think he sleeps with it. Something is wrong.”

  “Claire.” Marcus horned in on the conversation. “What is it?”

  “Zach. I know I’m being the overprotective mother, but I feel off. And I don’t like it.” Annie grabbed her coat. “No, Annie. I need to do this alone. Zach will be embarrassed enough when I come charging in and he’s just sightseeing. Both of us may leave him scarred for life.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just keep your phone on. I’ll call if I need the cavalry. And you two, behave. Eric needs his rest.”

  Annie crossed her arms. “I will, if he will.” She glared over at Marcus, tried not to smile when he bowed.

  “As you command.”

  “Smartass.”

  With a smile, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Now I have been properly welcomed. Go find your son, Claire.”

  The kiss he gave Claire was much less platonic. Rolling her eyes, Annie moved to the bed and checked on Eric again. He was sleeping, his face no longer etched with pain. The last bit of weight slid off her heart. Pressing her lips to his forehead, she stood, relieved that he didn’t have a fever. Just one broken ankle and a mess of bruises.

  Marcus still had his arms around Claire. Annie cleared her throat.

  Taking the hint, he stepped back. “Call if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.” She moved out into the hall, Annie following after her. “Am I being overprotective?”

  “I think you’re entitled, Claire. It’s been, what—less than six months? And you have no idea what new talent is going to pop up. If anything, you’re remarkably well adjusted. And so is Zach.” She draped one arm over Claire’s shoulders and led her to the elevator. “He is loved and he knows it. You’ve got one great kid, honey. Now you have to trust him a little.”

  *

  Penn frowned when Claire showed up, asking for Zach. “He left more than an hour ago. Chelle?” Michelle stepped out of the back room. “Did you see where Zach headed when he left?”

  “Toward the hotel.” Those clear brown eyes studied Claire. “He wouldn’t have gone much farther. He was exhausted.”

  Claire nodded. “Jet lag. We just arrived today—”

  “He found Michelle’s missing locket.”

  Silence wrapped around them. Claire let out a shaky breath. “You didn’t prevent him from doing so?”

  “Hell, no,” Penn said. “I saw how much he was hurting over it. We both did. And you didn’t know.” She touched Claire’s wrist, fingers brushing the triquetra tattooed there, the scar cutting it in half. “He said it hurts if he can’t find something once he knows where it is. I thought he was going to keel over before he—”

  “Enough, Penn.” Michelle gently pushed her aside, took Claire’s hand when she started to leave. “We will help you. We’ve been here a couple of years now, and the locals will talk to us more readily than a stranger. Zach is a striking boy; he’ll be remembered. We’ll split up, cover more ground.”

  “Thank you.” Claire felt her nerves shredding. Standing here talking, when Zac
h could be hurt, or worse—

  Don’t head down that path.

  “We’ll find him,” Michelle said. She closed her other hand over Claire’s, started rubbing it. “You’re like ice. Are you okay?”

  “Once we find Zach, I will be fine . . .” Heat flared through her amethyst heart. She closed her hand over it—and her fingers clenched as an image of Zach burst into her mind.

  “Claire?” Penn’s voice filtered through the panic. “Come on now, open your eyes.” She obeyed, flinching at the bright light, met Penn’s worried gaze. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Zach,” she whispered. “He’s in trouble.”

  *

  Zach felt his amethyst flare, and could do nothing to stop it, or the message he knew it flashed straight to his mom. It was the one solid connection to her he couldn’t control. He just hoped she didn’t understand what it meant.

  Diana pulled him toward the standing stones he’d read about in the guidebook. They shimmered in the late afternoon light, the power from the ley lines like a rainbow around them. Whatever Diana wanted, if it was inside that ring of stone and power, he wouldn’t find it easily. And he was sure she wouldn’t take that news well.

  “It is a simple thing, really.” Her voice grated, jumping higher with her excitement. “I found it quite by accident, and kept it to myself.” Wind lifted the ends of her short brown hair. She shoved at it, her movements almost frantic. And that scared Zach more than the knife she kept waving around. “I may not be the most talented witch in Briarton, but I understand real power. This will give me what I have always wanted. What I deserve.”

  They had just reached the first stone when he heard the shout.

  Mom—no—

  She came straight at them, halting when Diana jerked him in front of her and dug the knife into his jaw.

  Mom clenched her fists, but her voice came out calm. “Let him go.”

  “Get out of here! You don’t belong, you can’t have it—I won’t let you have it!”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want it.” Mom raised her hands, opened them. Next to this crazy, manic woman, she looked serene, beautiful. Power she didn’t think she had glowed from the amethyst heart, surrounding her. Zach blinked, like he was really seeing her for the first time. Her next words drove straight into his heart. “I only want my son.”