What Doesn't Kill You

by Cate Dean

  Zach did as promised. With help from Marcus, he warded an old iron box he produced, no explanation. Claire watched from the other side of Annie’s living room as they warded the box, filled it with salt until it covered the knife. Zach buried it in holy ground, behind Simon’s church, dumping salt over the box for good measure. The site was close enough to keep an eye on it, but far enough away to make her feel safe from the iron and salt.

  She pushed away from the memory, and forced herself to relax. It took less than she expected, lack of sleep finally catching up with her. The hum of the tattoo machine brought her back, right before Billie started the first pass.

  Claire clutched the edge of the chair, forcing herself to keep her right arm relaxed. The familiar, constant sting of the needles let her blank out her mind. She didn’t want to think anymore, even if it was a temporary condition.

  Billie hummed along with the classic rock blaring from the stereo, her touch light, deft, and not as painful as Claire expected. The pentacle being inked into her shoulder was the last of her defenses against the demon, sitting dormant for now.

  She wanted Simon to be right, wanted to believe in the subtle differences she felt this time. Until she could be one hundred percent about it, she would take every precaution. Especially since her friends, and Zach, absolutely refused to stay away.

  TWELVE

  It rained the day of Simon’s funeral.

  Claire huddled under the umbrella, Zach at her side, clutching her hand. Tears streaked his face, but he looked stoic, damp hair brushing his shoulders as he lowered his head, whispering a silent prayer. Claire looked over at him, surprised by the fluent Latin. He was remembering more of his old existence.

  The priest presiding over Simon’s grave spoke of sacrifice, of love, of ashes to ashes. Claire simply wanted it to be done. Putting Simon in the ground hurt, piercing through her until she had trouble breathing. Annie stood next to her, under another umbrella, leaning against Eric, crying in that silent way that tore at Claire.

  On the other side of the grave, Marcus stood apart from the other mourners, dressed head to toe in black, hands in the pockets of his long coat, and rain dripping off his hair. He gave Claire the space she needed, but was close enough to offer support. She knew she would need it before today was over.

  “—and now we give him to the God he loved.” The priest met Claire’s eyes. “Remember him as the generous, caring man he was, and do not grieve, for his soul is already with our Savior.”

  She closed her eyes. Simon would have punched the man for his arrogant sermon. He looked smug as he exchanged words of comfort with Simon’s former congregation. Claire wanted nothing to do with him.

  Moving forward, she laid the bouquet of daisies on the polished mahogany coffin. Simon hated roses, told her once they reminded him of friends he’d lost. She liked the daisies that grew wild along the boardwalk, and wanted to give him a piece of the beach, the one place here he found peace.

  Zach set his bouquet next to hers, resting his hand on the coffin. He whispered again, and this time she caught the prayer.

  “May the soul of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”

  “Zach?” His head snapped up, the grief in his eyes tearing at her. “What are you—”

  “I wanted to give him a real entry, not some ego-driven—sorry.”

  She kissed his cheek. “No apologies. Not when I share your opinion. Simon would be appalled, then insulted.” Zach smiled, squeezing her hand.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you back.” Claire glanced over at Annie, nodded her head. “Let’s get out of this rain.”

  Annie and Eric stepped toward them. Eric tipped the umbrella so Annie could lay her bouquet on the coffin. The multi-colored daisies lent a false gaiety to the grave site, and Claire couldn’t look at it anymore, couldn’t be here anymore.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Annie said, her voice raw. “I can’t stand this.”

  “You read my mind.” Claire took her hand, looked over at Marcus. He nodded, headed for the limo they had rented so they could ride together.

  They walked away from the grave, holding hands, leaving behind the other mourners. Today was for them, the family Simon had been part of. Tomorrow was soon enough to face the other people in his life.

  THIRTEEN

  “This doesn’t feel right.” Claire stood in Annie’s guest room, staring at herself in the mirror, trying not to fidget as Annie fussed with her veil. “I shouldn’t be celebrating, not so soon after Simon—” She lowered her head, the ache still raw.

  “Look at me, honey.” Annie waited, and Claire knew she would prod until she got her way. With a sigh Claire obeyed. “Simon would be the first to call bullshit, and you know it. He’d want you to be happy.” Annie brushed a strand of hair off Claire’s forehead. “You look so beautiful. I am glad you decided to go traditional, since I so did not.”

  They both smiled, remembering Annie’s gorgeous but not even close to traditional green wedding dress. Claire’s tea length antique white dress skimmed down her body from the wide, scoop neckline, a rich, shimmering velvet that suited the chilly fall weather. Her bouquet of daisies was her way of including Simon, and she knew Annie had piled more of them into the small reception room they would use for the after party.

  The wedding was going to be on the beach. It would play substitute for another beach, one she walked in her dreams, when she finally told Marcus she loved him. Claire wanted the cold wind, the sun, the sound of the water and the feel of the sand under her feet. She felt confined enough with all of her wards and barriers. To her, the ocean was freedom, clarity, peace. And she desperately needed all three.

  “Hey.” Annie rubbed her arm. “What’s going through that busy mind of yours?”

  “Too much.” She glanced at the window. “Is the weather still clear?”

  “Just like you ordered.”

  “And Zach—he got his suit?”

  “Complained so much it gave me a headache, but yes.”

  Claire smiled. “We will have to take endless photos, because I will probably never get him in one again.”

  “Scratch ‘probably’ off that prediction.”

  “The boutonnières. Did everyone get—”

  “Everything is done, Claire. And everyone is ready. Now take a deep breath, and let’s go get you married.”

  “Can I say first just how radiant you look?”

  Annie blushed, pushing at her curls. “I look like a satin whale.”

  “Far from it. Eric won’t take his eyes off you.”

  Claire had chosen a floor length dress of pale yellow, with an overskirt that cut away at the front and floated around Annie, accentuating her height, and that beautiful blonde coloring. The white and yellow daisies of her bouquet were a splash of color against the creamy pastel dress.

  “And Marcus will have to pop his back in his head. Come on,” she grabbed Claire’s hand, pulled her to the door. “He’s waited long enough. Hey—didn’t you say the same thing to me?”

  Laughing, Claire followed her out. “Yes, Annie, I believe I did.”

  *

  The day was cold, but clear, and a light wind tugged at Claire’s full skirt, lifting the hem of her veil. She stood next to the boardwalk, the sand cool under her bare feet, listening to the soft melody plucked out by the harpist as Annie made her way down the makeshift aisle. Eric met her halfway, and as Marcus’ best man, escorted the matron of honor to her spot before he rejoined Marcus.

  As the song signaling her own walk began, Claire took in a deep breath, and held out her hand. Zach stepped to her side, looking far too grown up in a dark blue suit, his tie the same clear blue as his eyes. He smiled down at her, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and led her down the aisle.

  Everyone she cared about stood on the sand, barefoot and smiling. Claire had never realized how many people she touched, until after Simon’s funeral. The outpouring of care, of concern,
of love, was overwhelming. She had truly become a part of the community, and the community came out to watch her begin her new life.

  She wasn’t surprised to see Theresa there, Mindy Kay standing beside her. Claire invited them herself, just days after calling to let them know about Simon. She was startled when two other guests turned around, smiling at her.

  Michelle and Penn, looking like the proverbial cats. Annie had been even busier than she thought. Claire waved at them as she passed, her throat tight, and some of the weight on her heart eased.

  Marcus waited for her, devastating in solid black. Those wild black curls framed his face, the silver hamsa glinted in his ear, and the jade green eyes watched her. When he stepped forward and took her hand, it felt like coming home.

  Zach leaned in and kissed her cheek, moving over to Eric’s side. He looked so serious, and older. Claire’s breath caught as she realized she looked at the young man he had become, replacing the boy forever.

  Marcus lifted her hand, pressed it to his lips. “Ready for this, sweet?”

  “Last chance to back out.”

  He smiled, and her heart skipped. “Never.”

  Wrapping his fingers around hers, he turned to face the minister. Claire met her eyes and nodded. To avoid any more heartache than they would already have today, she found a woman to marry them. Cinda, a friend of Billie’s who was happy to step in at the last minute.

  “Friends and family. We gather here to celebrate love, and beginnings.” Cinda glanced down at Claire, and she nodded, bracing herself for the next part. “I know most of you were part of the end of another friend’s journey not long ago, and his absence is keenly felt. Claire and Marcus asked for a moment of silence, to bring Simon Asher here in memory, and to honor his life.”

  Marcus tightened his grip on her hand, and Claire finally let Simon in.

  Tears slipped down her face. She closed her eyes, his image filling her mind. Very clear, very green eyes, a strong, sculpted face, and a smile that could soothe or infuriate. God above, how she missed him. She would, for the rest of her life. But she could also find her way back to joy, knowing he would be happy for her, would stand for her if he were here.

  Gentle fingers touched her shoulder. Claire looked up at Cinda. “Are you ready to continue?”

  “Yes.” She let go of Marcus long enough to wipe at her face. Then, taking his hand, she met another pair of green eyes. “I’m ready.”

  “Friends, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of—”

  “Oh, God.” Annie’s strangled voice cut over the minister. Claire looked at her—and saw the stain on her dress, the puddle of water at her feet. “I think—my water broke.”

  Claire moved to her, took her small bouquet and handed it to Cinda. “Annie.”

  “Claire—”

  “It’s all right, honey. I’m right here.”

  “Okay.” Tears filled Annie’s eyes. She gave Claire a shaky smile. “We’re having a baby.”

  *

  Before panic could erupt, Claire turned around and raised her hands.

  “Everyone—thank you for being here. I’m afraid we are going to postpone the ceremony for the moment. I’m sure Annie and Eric would like for you to come by the hospital later, to welcome their baby.” She reached past Marcus, who stared at Annie, and caught Eric’s hand. “Eric. Eric.”

  He jerked at her voice, looked at her. “I don’t—what do I do?”

  Claire tried not to smile at his panic. “Bring the car up, park in the handicapped spot. We’ll bring Annie to you.” She cradled his cheek. “She will be fine, Eric. Now, go get the car.”

  “Get the car. Right.”

  He ran across the sand, a man on a mission.

  “Zach.” He swung around, his face pale. “I need you to help Marcus take Annie to the car. Breathe, sweetheart.” She smiled, squeezed his hand. “This is perfectly natural.”

  “Mom—don’t ever get pregnant.”

  Shock widened her eyes. “Zach—”

  “I mean it.”

  “We’ll talk about this later, sweetheart. Now help me with Annie. Marcus—close your mouth and give me a hand.” Claire brushed windblown curls off Annie’s cheek. Her friend still stood in the puddle, staring down at the stain spreading over the front of her dress. “Annie—honey, it’s time to go.”

  Annie’s head snapped up. “I ruined this beautiful dress. Oh, Claire—I ruined your wedding.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Claire framed her face. “You’re about to make me an honorary aunt, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Now, these two strong, albeit nervous men are going to help you to the car. Let them do the work, Annie. You focus on breathing.”

  “What are you talking about? I can breathe just—God—” She clutched her stomach.

  Claire was waiting for this, and caught her arm. Both Marcus and Zach jumped forward, supporting Annie until her contraction ended. They looked absolutely freaked out.

  “Better?” Annie nodded. Claire used the edge of her veil to wipe the sweat trickling down Annie’s cheek. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  Annie gripped Zach’s shoulder. Marcus took her other arm, and they half-carried her across the sand, where Eric nearly danced with impatience next to the open back door of the SUV.

  “Hey, punk.” Annie smiled at Zach. “I’m okay. Thanks for keeping your cool.”

  “I didn’t really—”

  “You did great, Zach.” Claire gently moved him aside and slid her arm around Annie’s nonexistent waist. “You’re doing just fine, honey. Breathe like they taught you in class. Here comes Eric.”

  He charged across the boardwalk, meeting them at the stairs. “Annie!”

  “She’s fine, Eric.” Claire kept her voice calm. It seemed to have the same effect on Eric. He looked less frantic. “Good choice with the back door. She’s going to want to lie down.”

  He reached out, taking charge of Annie. “Slow, sweetheart, just take a step at a time, and all the time you need—”

  “I’m not two, Eric, I’m in pain.” She doubled over again. Claire stepped up her pace; the contractions were coming too fast.

  She snatched the keys out of Eric’s hand. “We need to move. Zach—ride with Marcus. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

  “Mom—”

  “Go. Everything’s going to be fine. Now shoo.” He took off after Marcus, who was already running for the Jag.

  “Claire, I’m so sorry.” Annie grabbed her hand. “This is your day, I don’t want to ruin—oh, damn—” She squeezed both Claire’s hand and the headrest of the passenger seat. “Too fast, Claire—God, I’m so scared.”

  “I’m right here. Eric, get in the car. We’re on our way, Annie.” She closed the door and ran around to the driver’s side. “Eric—get in the car.” He blinked, and nodded, pulling the door open and all but falling inside. “Okay, kids. Here we go.”

  *

  Claire banished herself from the delivery room. She still had no idea how much control she exerted over the demon, and she had shed some of the removable barriers for the wedding.

  She knew the demon was still there, because her tattoo healed. Overnight. And the last of the burns on her left wrist were gone, along with the gouges in her forearm and the still raw wound from James’ sharpened cross. Not only was she healing as fast as in her prime, she felt strong, and whole, for the first time in over a year.

  For now she pushed the issue aside. But it would have to be dealt with, whether Marcus wanted to or not. She had a feeling the demon was back for good.

  Zach burst into the large waiting room, pale but excited, Marcus talking to him. He headed straight for Claire and lifted her off the floor in an enthusiastic hug.

  “Mom—I drove the Jag!”

  “That’s—great, sweetheart.” Her knees felt weak at just the thought of him behind the wheel of that powerful, dangerous car.

  “It’s okay—Marcus made me stay at the speed limit. Most of the time.” He fl
ashed a grin over at Marcus, who shrugged, an equally stupid grin on his face. Claire shook her head. Boys and their toys. They never grew up. “How’s Annie?”

  “In labor.” He blinked, the last of the color draining from his face. “You can stay out here with me, if you like. Eric is with her.”

  “Yeah—I think that would be best.” She had never seen him look so relieved at being stuck with her company. “Marcus?”

  “I believe I will go in search of cigars, for the soon-to-be father.” Before Claire could stop him he strode out, just as half the reception came rushing in, everyone talking at once.

  Theresa got to her first, clutching her hand. “How is Annie?”

  “She’s doing well—almost to the end now.” Claire brushed hair off her cheek. “How are you doing?” Simon was the second person Theresa had lost in the last year, after her father died trying to stop a witch determined to take over his town.

  “Okay. It hurt, hearing about Simon. But this, and you and Marcus—being a part of it helps. A lot. Thanks,” she said, wrapping her arms around Claire. “Thanks for including me.”

  Surprised by the spontaneous show of emotion, since Theresa always held back in front of her, Claire returned the hug, holding on to her. “You are always welcome, sweetheart.”

  “Claire!” Eric rushed in, looking frantic. He spotted her and sprinted over, pulling her away from Theresa. “Annie needs you—hell, I need you in there. She’s not happy right now.”

  “Eric.” Panic shot through her. “I don’t think I should—”

  “Do you think I’d ask if I even thought you’d be a threat? I trust you, with every life in there.” He started for the doorway, dragging her behind him. “We’d better get back, or Annie will haul herself off that bed and come looking for us.”