What Doesn't Kill You

by Cate Dean

  He heard James muttering, an accent that had always been just under his voice more pronounced with every word.

  “How the bloody hell does she know?” James jerked him off the tree-lined path, and agony dropped Zach to the ground. “It’s a good thing we are here, seeker.” Zach bit his lip on a scream. James pushed at him until he lay on his back, the trees shading him from the pale, late afternoon sun.

  He wanted to yank out the knife, wanted it so badly his hand kept inching toward the hilt. But part of him knew that he would only bleed faster if he did.

  “Not dying already, are we? I did so want you to watch while I choke the life out of your dear mother. After I learn who she was.”

  He stalked away, rubbing his bald head and talking to himself. Zach dug his left hand into the cold grass, held on to the knowledge that Mom was on her way, and kept breathing.

  *

  Simon pulled his cell phone out and dialed Eric’s number, figuring he would be the most level headed of the group.

  “Simon?”

  “I don’t have time to explain, so just listen.” He gave a two sentence recap. “Claire wants you to meet her at the cliff where she fought Natasha, said you’d understand.”

  “Yeah—I do.”

  “Bring the card, and Marcus. And leave Annie behind if you can.”

  “Right.” Eric let out a sigh. “You know where it is?”

  “I’m following Claire. I’ll meet you there.”

  He ended the call, never taking his eyes off the slight figure running ahead of him. She was so intent on her target, she never looked behind her. Simon fully expected her to turn on him at any moment. It didn’t look like that was going to happen.

  At their fast pace, they’d reach Zach in record time. Simon knew he didn’t have long, especially if the knife pierced any vital organ. But Zach was strong—even stronger than before Simon left, and more than physically. The vivid blue glow surrounding him surprised Simon. And the way it reached out to other people, the people Zach cared about, like the touch of—

  An angel.

  If they got through this, he and Zach were going to have a long, private talk.

  NINE

  “Oh, hell no. You are not leaving me behind.” Annie stalked past Eric, grabbing her coat off the rack near the door. “I’m going. End of conversation.”

  “Annie—”

  “I’ll stay in the car, Eric.” She gripped his hand, so scared she could hardly think straight. “Please, don’t make me stay here, alone, wondering what’s happening.”

  “Fine.” Eric pulled her with him to the door. Marcus already waited outside with the keys to Eric’s new SUV. “But you stay in the car, blondie. No changing your mind once we get there.”

  “I won’t. Cross my heart.” She let out her breath, relief spreading through her. Aside from not knowing, the bouts of indigestion were coming on more often. She didn’t really want to be alone if the indigestion turned out to be—something else.

  “Not yet, sweetheart,” she whispered, spreading both hands over her stomach as she followed Eric outside, overwhelmed by the sudden, fierce love that surged through her more and more lately. “Just hang out in there a little longer. Until we’re all safe.”

  *

  Claire followed James’ scent, an ugly taint of darkness that leaked out from his soul. The blood trail Zach left in his wake scared her into moving faster.

  She stepped off the path and headed for the cliff. Zach lay on the grass, a tweed jacket under his head, his right hand curled around the knife hilt, pain etched into his face. James stood next to him, arrogant and flush with the power of Agnes’ death.

  “Where is the card, Claire?” The cold wind whipped around them, shredding his voice. Claire heard him; all of her heightened senses were coming back. “I have played and won too many times to be fooled. Who are you?” Vicious temper slapped at her. “My aunt never warned me about you. Never said anything.”

  “She didn’t know—or maybe she didn’t want to warn you.”

  “Liar!” His face flushed as his temper built. Claire knew he would lose control of it soon. She counted on it. “Aunt Rachel told me everything!”

  “This ends here, James. You hurt the wrong person—” Her voice broke. She pushed back her fear for Zach, used the anger from it to steady her. “It will be the last thing you do.”

  “And you think you can stop me? A witch who no longer has her power?”

  Claire laughed, and he jumped, fear breaking through the temper. “I am much more than a witch. I am a demon, and your careless greed released what I thought was long dead.” The same but different. She understood now what Simon meant—and removing the amethyst finally freed it. The strength, the power, all of it at her fingertips. Everything but the black rage that once drove her. “Have you faced one of my kind, James? We don’t care about the niceties—like a fair fight.”

  Using the power the demon gave her Claire flew forward and tackled him. They rolled across the grass, dangerously close to the edge. James screamed, and she gathered in the strength his terror gave her. She’d forgotten just how much a human’s fear boosted the demon’s power. Now she would use it against him; use it to win a battle she knew she had to fight. For Zach.

  James clawed at her. She let out a harsh cry, but held on, searching for the deck. He had it on him—she could feel it. And she would figure out how the hell to destroy it when she got to that point.

  “Let me go!” James slapped at her hand, kicked out at her. She ignored the bursts of pain, and kept her hold on him. “It’s mine—it was always meant to be mine! That’s why I had to kill her—she was going to keep it from me—”

  Claire elbowed him, gained enough advantage to yank open his coat. Sweet heaven—he killed his own flesh and blood.

  Her hand closed over the deck. A shock of hate and fear jolted her and she almost let go.

  James dug his fingernails into her arm. “NO! You can’t have it!”

  She bit back a scream when his nails broke through, her blood hot on her skin. The deck twisted into the fresh wound—and she understood its intent. It was testing out the possibility of a new wielder.

  “God above,” she whispered. She pushed everything she was, good and bad, against the seeking, greedy power. It shredded through her defense like it was wet tissue. If it could overpower her, a centuries-old demon, how was she going to—

  “You’ll never stop it.” James tightened his grip on her. “And it will always protect me.”

  They rolled again, Claire fighting to stop their momentum. Another few inches would take them over the cliff. Maybe that was the only solution.

  This time she planned on surviving the fall.

  *

  Simon burst through the trees in time to see Claire struggling with another figure—both of them headed straight for the edge of the cliff.

  “Damn it—”

  “Simon.” He whipped around at the faint voice, barely heard above the wind tossing his hair around his face. Zach lay on the grass, trying to push himself up. “Weapon—” He closed his hand over the hilt of the knife.

  “No, Zach.” Simon sprinted to him and dropped, sliding across the last few feet on his knees. He caught Zach’s wrist—and saw it for the first time, the power shining around the hilt. “God—”

  “Knife has—power. Will destroy the deck. Help her,” he caught Simon’s jacket sleeve, smearing blood on the travel worn denim. “Please—”

  “Already on it, son.” He eased Zach back to the ground, gently moved his hand off the hilt. “This is going to hurt you, and I’m sorry for it. Hold on to that wound when the blade is free, you understand? And do whatever it takes to stay conscious.” Simon knew if he passed out, there was little chance of him surviving until Marcus got here.

  “Okay.”

  Before Zach had a chance to tense, Simon pulled the knife free. Zach’s raw scream tore at him. He shoved the emotions aside and slapped Zach’s right hand over the wound.
“Press on it. Zach.” Red rimmed eyes stared up at him. “Use the pain, son. It will keep you awake.”

  “She’s not—evil, Simon.”

  “I know. We just have to convince her. Stay put.”

  Simon stood, the knife humming in his hand. He had never felt the power like this before; his talent was seeing it. But his instincts told him this knife was different. Like the deck was different. An object with its own agenda.

  He was about to change that agenda.

  *

  Claire let go of James and dug her fingers into the ground. It halted their momentum, just enough for her yank him up and over, slamming him down face first. She knew the sickening crack was his nose breaking.

  He curled up like a little boy, holding his nose. Blood gushed between his fingers.

  “Not again—you broke it, why did you—no!”

  In a move that knocked her backward he shoved off the ground and ran past her. She turned around—and froze at the sight of Simon, holding a bloody knife. The knife that had been in Zach.

  Simon sidestepped the attack, obviously trying to avoid injuring James. Claire didn’t have that objection.

  Pushing to her feet, she sprinted forward, letting out a wild shout. Simon caught her injured arm.

  “No, Claire.”

  The pain spiked her temper. “Let me go!”

  She threw Simon toward the trees, not watching to see where he landed. Instead she went after James, who had chosen escape over fighting. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening when he saw her.

  Claire gathered herself as she ran and leapt off the ground, taking them both down. The deck flew out of James’ hand and scattered across the grass. “No!”

  He crabbed forward. Claire caught his ankle and yanked him back. The power that surrounded him was fading. He did get it from the deck—so the longer she kept them apart, the easier for her to—

  James punched her lacerated arm.

  With a hoarse scream she recoiled. James scrambled to his feet and moved to the deck. It had shuffled itself back into a neat pile.

  “Sorry. Not going to happen.” Simon’s quiet voice lifted her head. He stepped in front of the deck, the knife pointed at James. “You two are about to part ways.”

  *

  “Faster, Eric.” Annie crouched in the back seat, willing them to get there in time. The park where Natasha held her, bait for Claire, had too much bad mojo for her. She hadn’t been back since that horrible day. And she didn’t want to go back now. But Claire needed her, and Zach was hurt, maybe dying—

  Stop—we’ll make it.

  “Almost there, Annie.” Eric didn’t snap, didn’t complain about her constant harping. God, she didn’t deserve him. But she wasn’t letting him go. Ever.

  Marcus sat in the passenger seat, too quiet. He had to be thinking the same things—too much death, too much loss. It couldn’t happen again. Damn it, she wouldn’t let it happen again.

  “Please, Eric—faster.”

  *

  James did the last thing Claire expected. He jumped Simon.

  They toppled, struggling for the knife. Simon threw it toward the deck and it hit tip first, quivering as it pinned the pile of cards. Claire swore she heard them scream.

  James did scream, fury giving him the strength to fight a man nearly a foot taller. He shoved Simon off him, crawled toward the deck. Pain etched his face, his breathing harsh and shallow. Claire pushed herself to her knees and lunged forward. Her hand closed over his arm and yanked him away from the cards just before he touched them.

  “They are mine!”

  “Not anymore.” Panting, her arm on fire, she lurched to her feet, drawing him away from the pinned cards. Away from Zach. Some of her panic eased when Simon moved to Zach’s side. “They’ve hurt you long enough, James. It’s time to let them go.”

  “You have no right.” Instead of going after her, he pulled free, yanking the knife out of the deck. A high-pitched, hollow shriek echoed around them. James reached for the cards, let out a curse when they recoiled. “They are mine. They were always meant to be mine.”

  He spun, raising the knife over his head. Claire realized what he meant to do and screamed a warning.

  “Simon!”

  Simon didn’t have time to do more than stand as James lunged forward and drove the knife into Simon’s chest.

  “No!” Claire took James down, kidney punched him until he stopped moving. She tossed him aside and crawled over to Simon. “Oh, God—”

  “Claire.” He opened his eyes, the once sharp, green depths now darkening. Death already gathered him in its arms, and she couldn’t stop it. “Don’t let him—get away.”

  “I won’t. Simon—” Tears choked her. “I can’t lose you.”

  “Take the knife,” he whispered. Horror shot through her. “It will destroy the deck. I—saw its power. Felt it.”

  She couldn’t—God help her, she couldn’t—

  “Mom.” She jerked at Zach’s raw voice. Somehow, he crabbed across the ground to them. His right hand pressed against the wound in his side, so hard his arm shook. “You have to—nothing else we have will stop the deck. Hell—” He curled around his hand, his skin grey under the hair sticking to his face.

  “Zach—” He nodded, and she let out her breath. Tears slid down her cheeks as she turned back to Simon. His hands gripped the knife, but he no longer had the strength to pull it free. She would have to do it for him. Leaning over him, she kissed him, tasting blood on his lips. “Thank you, for everything.”

  “Right—back at you.” He coughed, more blood pouring out of the wound. “Do it, Claire.”

  “Oh, God.” She eased his hands away from the knife, closed badly shaking fingers around the hilt. Heat roared up her arms. The heat of need, of vengeance. She blinked her eyes clear, looked down at him. “I love you, Simon.”

  He smiled. “Claire.”

  “What?” She leaned in as his voice faded, expecting to hear a dying wish, a last request.

  “Don’t get dead.”

  She let out a choked laugh. Leave it to Simon. Kissing his cheek, she met his eyes. “See you around.”

  “Yeah.” His eyes slid closed and she panicked.

  “Simon!” He looked at her, every breath a struggle now. “Put in a good word for me.”

  “Already did.” He swallowed. “Do it, Claire.”

  She took in a shuddering breath, braced herself. God help her, she wasn’t ready for this—

  “Mom!”

  Zach’s warning cry whipped her around. Just before James slammed into her.

  *

  Annie clutched the headrest of the driver’s seat as Eric squeezed the car around the accident. Too long—it was taking too long to get there.

  “I’m not losing you again, Claire,” she whispered. “Not like this.”

  “Annie.” Eric reached up and took her hand. She held on to him, and glanced over Marcus. He stared out the window, his face grim, determined. “We’ll get to her. She has an advantage now, one James can’t match.” He swerved around their last obstacle and punched the gas. “We won’t lose her this time, sweetheart.”

  “Damn right.”

  “And you’re staying in the car.”

  “Eric—”

  “You can’t do anything. And I don’t want either of you near him.”

  She let out a sigh. “Fine.”

  Flashing her a smile in the rearview mirror, he squeezed her hand and let go. A wicked turn was coming up. “Good answer.”

  “Keep smiling, handsome. I’m saving the earful for later.”

  “There’s my Annie. I promise you, we’ll bring your best friend home.”

  *

  Claire hit the ground. Hard.

  Something pulsed in her right hand—and she realized she had taken the knife with her when James attacked. Her gaze found Simon, his body still, his eyes staring up at the sky.

  Rage and grief had her surging forward. James let out a shocked cry and drop
ped his jacket, tripping as he avoided the flashing blade. He caught his balance and kept retreating.

  “No more.” Claire stalked him. “No one else is going to die because of that bloody damn deck.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I can.” She punched his already broken nose, and he went down. “I will.”

  Whirling, she ran for the deck, knife raised to stab it.

  Brilliant pain sliced into her left side.

  She gasped, stumbling, her knees giving out under her. She lifted her head, saw James, and the cross in his hands—an iron cross, the base sharp as a knife. Where—I didn’t sense it—I should have—

  His jacket. The one she saw cradling Zach’s head.

  Gripping the knife, she managed to get her legs under her, barely able to breathe for the pain. James hovered over her, lifting the bloody cross.

  “I win.” He smiled, blood staining his teeth. “I always win.”

  She stood, her left side screaming at her. “No, James. The deck wins—just as it always has.”

  “You’re wrong. I control it. I was meant to, from the first moment I saw it.” He pointed the sharp base of the cross at her. It took all her control not to flinch away from the iron. With her injuries, just the proximity burned. “My aunt kept me under her thumb, stringing me along with promises and platitudes. The deck’s power gave us both a long life. Until I strangled her in her sleep.”

  His smile widened, sent a chill through her. Somewhere along the way, he had traded near- immortality for sanity. Claire kept him talking, kept him distracted, so he didn’t notice that his frenetic pacing kept moving him closer to the edge of the cliff. “How many other people have you killed, James?”

  “It was the cards!” He actually pouted. “They need the life force. I am just the conduit. Can’t you see that? But with your power, I can finally take control, make the cards work for me. After so many years of being the slave, I will be the master. I am the master.”