Annie's Song

by Cate Dean

  “And I need him, to find it. He has to find it—”

  The image slammed into his mind and he doubled, barely feeling the knife scrape across his jaw as he went down.

  “Zach!”

  “Stay back.” Diana crouched next to him, and he felt the blade cut into his left side. “One step closer and I will stab him. Then there will be nothing you can do to save him.” The blade slid in deeper, and Zach recoiled, the pain like a white hot poker under his skin. “He will live long enough to find what I need. Do you want to watch him die in agony?”

  “Take the knife away from him.” Mom’s voice was deadly quiet. He only heard that tone when he was in serious trouble. “I will do as you ask. Just stop hurting him. Please.” She whispered that last word, and Zach forced his eyes open.

  Mom had backed away, near the standing stone, her face white. He wanted to tell her he’d be okay, but he didn’t believe it himself. And right now he could barely take in a breath, never mind talk. The image of what Diana wanted pressed deeper into his mind, crowding out everything but the desperate need to find it. Now.

  Diana jerked the knife free, and he let out a raw cry. The pain cleared his head, long enough for him to see the look on his mom’s face.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “I love you, Zach.”

  Panic tore through him—and she lunged forward, tackling Diana, taking them both to the ground.

  “Mom—” He crawled toward them, fresh pain dogging every move. Mom rolled over, trapping Diana, and punched her, reaching for the knife. Diana screamed, lashing out. The tip of the blade sliced across Mom’s left cheek.

  She fell backward, blood staining her face. And Diana moved faster than he thought possible.

  Silver flashed, and Zach froze, watching the knife move, almost in slow motion, as it angled down.

  “Diana—no!” He shouted the denial, and the world sped up. The knife plunged into his mom’s right shoulder, and he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t save her.

  “No . . . please—” He lurched forward, ignoring the pain “Mom—” He stilled when Diana yanked the blade free.

  “The next strike will kill her.” Diana let go, and Mom hit the ground. The low moan drove through Zach. This was his fault, all of it. She wouldn’t be hurt—she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. Diana’s voice snapped him back. “You find what I need, and I will give you what she needs to live.”

  “No, Zach—”

  “Yes,” he said, talking over the choked whisper. Tears burned his eyes as he crawled over to her. “I have to find it, Mom. I can’t—” He swallowed, the image starting to focus. “I can’t stop until I find it. I won’t stop, if it saves you.”

  Pain flared in Mom’s eyes, and something he didn’t expect, something that shook him. Pride.

  “Diana.” Her whisper hurt him, so faint, edged with so much pain. Diana leaned in, smiling. Zach wanted to wipe that smile off her face. With his fist. “You harm so much as a hair on Zach, I will come after you like the hounds of Hell. And trust me,” she said, her smile more deadly than her words. “I know more than a bit about Hell.”

  With a panicked squeak, Diana lurched backward and grabbed Zach’s arm, the bloody knife hovering in front of him. “All he has to do is find something for me. Once he does so, he will be returned to you, unharmed. And will remain unharmed, as long as there is no retaliation.”

  The image sharpened, flared in his mind. A box. She wanted a box—

  With a harsh gasp he went down.

  “Zach—” Mom tried to reach for him, let out a low cry and doubled over her bleeding shoulder. After an endless second she spoke. “Hell, Diana. It will feel like a vacation compared to what I’ll do if you hurt him.” She looked at Zach, a smile touching her mouth. Then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed, not moving.

  “Mom—” It took all the strength he could gather, but he moved to her, felt for a pulse, his heart pounding so hard it left him lightheaded. He found it, relief crashing through the panic. And curled in on himself as a new and ugly pain twisted through him. The box—whatever was in the box reached for him, wanting, needing to be free.

  “You saw it.” Diana crouched over him, the stench of sweat and the patchouli coating his nose, lodging in his throat. “The box—you know where it is.” He nodded, clutching his stomach. Whatever was in that box, it emitted a power he’d never felt before. A power that scared him so much, for the first time he didn’t want to find it. No matter how much it hurt. “Get up. Now, boy. Time is ticking away, and your poor mum is dying.”

  Zach pressed one hand against his left side, managed to get to his knees, the pain easing faster than he was used to. He realized why as he looked over at the standing stones. The box was there.

  “Tell me you found it.” Diana’s high-pitched voice scraped over his ears. He tried not to flinch.

  “It’s close.” Pretending he didn’t see her hand, he stood on his own, his legs shaky, the shallow knife wounds burning hotter with every breath. “But before I take another step, it’s time for let’s make a deal.”

  “What are you—”

  “The second I give you the box, we’re done.”

  “Ah.” She crossed her arms, smiling as she looked up at him. “You think you have the upper hand. Please allow me to enlighten you.” Dread crawled up his spine. “This knife?” She waved it in front of his face, Mom’s blood still staining it. “It carries a spell, and a nasty one at that. Whoever owned this blade had quite the temper. When it impales completely, it releases an ugly, irreversible poison. Even if the wound is not fatal the person will die. No need to worry for yourself, boy. Your cuts were too shallow to do more than hurt you, maybe cause more than the usual discomfort. But your mum—hers is a killing wound.”

  Everything in him stilled, and for the first time, he understood the desire to kill. Before Diana could stop him he knelt beside Mom. Her chest rose and fell, a slight movement that scared the hell out of him. He clutched his amethyst. Her heartbeat pulsed through it, slow. Too slow. “Is there a counter spell?”

  Diana smiled. He wanted to punch her. “Ah, you are a witch’s child. Yes, there is a counter spell. Find the box, and it is yours.”

  Without another word, Zach pushed to his feet, moved to one of the standing stones. Only the pain from his knife wounds hounded him as he got closer to his target. Instead of the pain of finding, a dark, hot need whispered across his skin. He knew it came from whatever was trapped in the box. Just the brush of that power terrified him, and he planned to get both him and Mom as far away as fast as possible after he located the box.

  Several holes marred the ground, a couple so deep he could see the buried edge of the stone. “You already tried to find it.”

  “You are not one of those weepy eyed purists? I did what I had to—”

  “Filling in the holes would have been nice.” Zach walked right past her efforts, drawn to what he knew was the heel stone. Here. The power licking at him, hot and hungry, was here. “Your box is buried here. Now I want the counter—”

  “Once the box is in my hand.” She pushed back the cloak, set her oversized bag on the ground and dropped to her knees, chubby hands tearing at the long grass, exposing the dark, rich dirt underneath. “It will go faster if you help me, boy.”

  “Zach.” He lowered himself to the ground, his side burning, wanting to be done with this, with her, ASAP. The low hum of fear for his mom kept getting louder, harder for him to push away. He needed to get this done, get the counter spell, stop the damage. “Let me.”

  His long fingers shoveled through the soft dirt—and hit up against icy, engraved metal. Every inch recoiled from just the touch of it. Taking in a shaky breath, he pushed through the rain soft dirt until his fingers closed around the box, and pulled.

  It jerked free, trailing dirt after it. Zach dropped the box and lurched to his feet, backing away from it with a sense of panic he couldn’t define. The thing was surprisingly small—but it rad
iated menace like he’d never felt before. He flinched when Diana picked it up, and he clapped one hand over his mouth to stop the scream clawing up his throat when she pressed her cheek to it.

  “At last,” she whispered, caressing the dirt encrusted sides. “I never thought to find you. But here you are, living, breathing, in my grasp.”

  “I want the counter spell.” Zach’s voice shook over the words. He didn’t care; they made a deal, and it was time for her to live up to her part of it. “I found it. Now give me the spell.”

  “There is time yet, boy.”

  “She’s dying!” He felt it, the pulsing inside his amethyst weaker with every minute that passed. He looked over at her, and swore her face was paler, her breath more shallow. “I can’t do anything more for you.”

  “Ah, but you can.” She grabbed his wrist before he had the chance to react. Contact drove him to his knees, an alien voice screaming in his head. “I thought as much. You have some kind of connection to it. You will help me release it, boy. Then our bargain will be complete.” Horrified, Zach could only kneel on the grass and shake. Most likely, they’d both be dead. “Get up, now. I have already prepared the space.”

  She pulled him to his feet, the box lending her strength Zach knew she hadn’t possessed before he dug up that abomination. Still gripping his wrist, so tight it would leave bruises, she slung her bag over her shoulder and dragged him across the field, away from Mom. Straight to the castle. The haunted, ruined castle he had at the top of his list to explore.

  He never expected to be releasing God only knew what inside its walls.

  TWELVE

  The burning in Claire’s shoulder jolted her awake.

  She opened her eyes, her mind blank. One look at her surroundings had everything snapping into place.

  “Zach—” Fire burst through her shoulder when she tried to move. “God above . . .”

  With a moan, she lowered herself to the ground. Zach was gone, taken only heaven knew where by that madwoman. She had to get back to Marcus, to Annie, had to get their help to find him—

  Fresh, ugly pain burned into her, deeper, hotter. She let out a raw cry, clutching at the ground. Sweat slid across her skin, back into her hair. Icy wind had her shivering, and the pain retaliated, burning a hole through her.

  A different kind of heat warmed her throat. Swallowing, she inched her hand up, closed shaking fingers over the amethyst heart. The heart Zach gave her.

  “Please—let him be safe. Please.” She prayed to a God she wasn’t certain would listen to her, even with a newly minted soul.

  Something blue and crumpled caught her attention, buffeted by the wind. She inched her hand across the grass, touched it. Zach’s energy hummed through her fingers. Pulling it closer, she finally recognized it. Zach’s baseball cap. Blood stained the blue cotton.

  Not him—you can’t have him.

  She tucked it into her side, inched her hand down until it reached the pocket of her jacket, and found the familiar lump of her phone.

  Her fingers kept sliding over the slick touch screen, and it took three tries before she managed to hit the right speed dial number. Annie’s voice had her closing her eyes in relief.

  “Hey, Claire—did you find him? Claire?”

  “Annie,” she whispered. And could all but see the panic she knew would be on her friend’s face.

  “God—where are you?”

  “Standing stones. Zach,” she forced what strength she had into her voice. “She took Zach.”

  “We’ll get him, honey. You hang on. Do you hear me, Claire? We’re on our way.”

  Annie’s voice kept cutting out, and Claire figured she was running.

  The phone slipped out of her fingers, landing next to her on the grass. Slowly, she slipped back into pain-edged darkness, gripping Zach’s cap. Annie’s voice followed after her, more frantic with every moment.

  “Claire—don’t you give up on me. Damn it, Marcus, she’s not answering.”

  I’m here, Annie.

  The sand rough voice that drifted up from the phone squeezed her heart. “We are on the way, Claire. Keep breathing.”

  A smile tugged at her lips—and incredible pain threatened to engulf her.

  Claire clutched the grass with her good hand, willed away the darkness. She had survived Hell.

  She could survive this.

  *

  Annie sprinted out of the alley next to the hotel, Marcus beside her, his face white under the wild black curls. The wind smacked them, fierce and cold, as they tore across the open field.

  Terror dogged every step. She willed herself to move faster, shoving back the horrifying thought that Claire would be dead when they got to her.

  No—she’s strong. Hell strong. She has to be alive—

  “She will be, Annie.” Marcus answered her thought. That normally brought on the anger. Now she was grateful he could sense her thoughts, since she didn’t think she could say what she was trying not to think. “Even if I have to drag her back from her Hell.”

  They shot between two of the standing stones, found Claire on the other side of the circle. Marcus dropped down, hair blowing around his face, reaching for her wrist before his knees even hit grass. He pulled something out of her hand, tossed it next to him. Annie lowered herself to Claire’s other side, and saw the blood.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus . . .” Both hands covered her mouth as she looked at Marcus. After an endless second he nodded. She felt her heart start back up.

  “She’s lost too much blood. And there is—something not right with the wound. We must get her back.”

  “Marcus.”

  If they hadn’t been on top of her, Annie knew they wouldn’t have heard Claire’s whisper.

  Marcus cradled her cheek, so gentle Annie’s throat ached. “I am here, sweet.” He brushed damp hair off her forehead, her face so pale the red-laced brown looked almost black against her skin. “Save your strength, now, I am taking you back to—”

  “Zach . . . Diana has Zach.”

  Dread shot through her. There was some serious ugly hovering around that woman. “We’ll get him back. I promise you, Claire.”

  Opening her eyes, Claire inched one hand across the grass, touched Annie’s fingers. She swallowed, took in a shallow breath. “Box—Zach found a . . . box. Gone.”

  “Stop,” Marcus said. The anguish in his eyes tore at her. “Annie will find him. No—you need to trust, Claire.” He looked at Annie, determination pushing out the anguish. “Let’s get her out of here.”

  He gathered Claire up in his arms and stood, moving as fast as he could without jarring her. Annie saw what he threw aside, and recognized it. Panic squeezed her heart. Pushing hair out of her face, she picked up the baseball cap, saw the blood on it.

  “Not him. God, not him—not now.”

  Annie stuffed the cap in her jacket pocket and caught up with Marcus, terrified at the amount of blood still leaking out of the wound in Claire’s shoulder.

  “I need you to collect some things for me,” Marcus said, ignoring the stares as they came around the side of the hotel. He carried Claire through the hotel lobby, spit out a short list, stopping only long enough for the elevator to open. “The shop you told me of should have all I need.” He stepped into the elevator and punched the button. “Move fast, Annie.” The same fear that kept clawing at her left his voice ragged. “Whatever injured her left a mark of power. Ugly power.” Marcus lowered his head, whispering to Claire as the doors closed.

  Annie ran, out of the hotel and down the high street, praying that Penn or Michelle would be there. Taking a big chance, she charged the front door. If it was locked she’d go right through the glass.

  It flew open, startling a young couple dressed like they just came from a Ren faire. “Penn!” Annie moved into the store. “Michelle!” Her voice echoed off the plaster walls, the low, beamed ceiling, sounding as panicked as she felt. Both women came on the run. Michelle got to her first, reaching for the blood she kn
ew streaked her green wool jacket. “It’s not mine. I need some things. Fast.”

  “Tell me.”

  They both gathered what Marcus asked for, not wasting time with questions. For that, Annie would be eternally grateful.

  “Call us for anything.” Michelle walked her to the door, Penn on her other side, protecting her from the customers who began to stare, to move toward them. “Who’s blood is it, Annie?”

  “Claire. Diana did this. Don’t go after her—she’s got Zach, and she’ll hurt him.”

  “How did she cause such damage?” Penn looked furious. “She doesn’t have enough power to fill a teaspoon. I won’t do anything, Annie. We’re both already attached to that boy.” She pulled the door open, followed Annie out. “You call me if you need backup, for anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  Annie took off, knowing she could count on Penn, on both of them. She never expected to feel that way about anyone beyond Claire. Crazy how just a few months turned her life upside down.

  “Hang on, Claire—please, hang on.”

  It became a mantra as she ran down the sidewalk, willing Claire to stay alive. The sapphires in her engagement ring burned against her finger, sparking an angry blue. Soon, she promised. As soon as she gave Marcus his supplies, she was going hunting.

  *

  “I need the counter spell, Annie.” Marcus leaned over Claire, hands on her wounded shoulder. “Without it, all I can do is keep her alive. And I am not certain how long I can do that.”

  Panic shut down her brain. Claire couldn’t die—she was indestructible . . .

  Not anymore. She was almost more human than Annie. And without her power, like the proverbial sitting duck—

  “Diana.” She blurted out the name. Marcus looked at her. “Diana would have it. Are you sure—”