Rest For The Wicked - The Claire Wiche Chronicles Book 1

by Cate Dean

  “Marcus.” Claire lowered her head, shame heating her face. “Is he all right?”

  “An out of joint nose, broken fingers, some bruises. He’ll live. Lucky for him Eric has medical experience.” Claire looked up. “He’s a vet.” Annie’s smile was contagious.

  “Did Eric mention it before or after he treated Marcus?”

  “After.” Her smile faded. “You’re not going back alone, Claire.”

  “I will not involve you in this—”

  “Too bad, and too late. I’m your friend.” She closed both hands over Claire’s shoulders, gave her a little shake. “Your family, damn it, so that makes me involved. What is so bad that you can’t tell me? I know it’s some big ugly—I’ve known for a while that you’ve been doing everything short of lying to me about the big ugly.”

  Claire swallowed. “Annie—”

  “I’m not stupid. I know you’re different, and not the ‘I’m a witch’ different. Why don’t you trust me?”

  “Oh, Annie.” The pain in her friend’s voice squeezed her heart. Claire never planned to create such ties, but Annie simply wormed her way in, and stuck. “You are the only person I trust.”

  “Then why—”

  “Because there’s nothing to tell.” Claire hated the lie, hated telling it. “I learned to practice in secret.” That much was true. “It simply became habit.”

  “Right. Habit.” Annie stood, gathering up the breakfast Claire didn’t eat. “When I come back, you’re going to bed. You look like death—again.”

  Claire let out a shaky breath after Annie disappeared into the kitchen, aware that she was not off the hook yet. She knew that tone; Annie was furious. But she would rather have furious than repulsed. No matter how much Annie pushed or argued, she was never going to know anything about Claire’s past.

  Never.

  *

  When Claire opened her eyes, she found Marcus sitting next to her bed.

  She bolted upright, furious that she let herself fall asleep when she should have been preparing—

  The world took a slow, nauseous dip. Marcus caught her when she tilted sideways, eased her back to the bed.

  “You will be doing nothing but resting,” he said. “Not for the next few hours, at any rate.”

  “And you’re what, my watchdog?” She flinched. Her throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper.

  “So it would seem.”

  Guilt swept through her at his low, pain-rough voice.

  “Marcus, I owe you an—”

  “No need.” He took her hand, careful of the cuts scoring her fingers, the scrapes on her palm. His still held the warmth of a recent healing. A fading bruise darkened one side of his nose, but she couldn’t see any other damage. “It was a quick and dirty way to protect me and put me out of action at the same time. Do it again,” he smiled at her, cold and feral, “and you will not have the chance to offer an apology.”

  “So noted. What time is it? Where’s Annie?”

  He helped her sit, plumping the pillows before he settled her against the headboard. Just that simple move left her lightheaded and breathless. “It is just after five pm. I asked Eric to call her, propose a distraction. And after promising to offer up my soul if something happens to you, she let me stay while she went to help Eric pack. I want the truth, and I knew you would not give it to me with Annie here.”

  Swallowing, Claire finally said the words out loud.

  “Natasha has been taken over by a demon.”

  His grip on her fingers tightened, painfully. “Are you certain?”

  “Oh, yes. Believe me, I wish I was wrong. Worse, it’s a greater demon, trying to buy its way into a higher rank—”

  “Who does it serve?” Marcus grabbed her shoulders and yanked her forward. She let out a gasp when his fingers dug into still aching muscles. “Claire—who does it call master?”

  “I don’t know—I wish I did, Marcus, but I was too busy trying to stay alive to probe for that information.”

  He let her go. “Forgive me. You have been through an ordeal, and here I am interrogating you like a heartless fool.”

  “An ordeal.” She shook her head, sagged against the pillows. “Aren’t you the master of understatement.” One hand inched across the mattress, touched his wrist. “We need to keep Annie safe. Natasha will go after people I care about first.” She rubbed her forehead, felt another headache starting behind her eyes. “We should include Eric in that, since I pulled him out from under her influence. My guess is she will thoroughly enjoy being ridden by a demon. It means she no longer has to worry about a conscience. Not that she had one to begin with, but now she has the perfect excuse.”

  Marcus took her hand.

  “Then we will keep each other close, until this is over.”

  *

  Annie stood up and stretched her back, then brushed various animal hairs off her shirt, the front of her jeans. “You really are lousy at packing.”

  Eric smiled—the closest she’d seen to a real smile since meeting him. “Never had to be. Kate always—” He cut himself off and turned to face the window.

  “God—I’m such a dolt.” Annie moved to his side, took his clenched hand. “I know you don’t believe this now, but it gets better. Not easier, but better.”

  Tears filmed his eyes when he looked down at her. “How—”

  “Personal experience. I lost my parents two years ago—they were on their way back from Africa, of all places. They had just finished a whirlwind tour, and wanted to get home before—” She took a deep breath, the familiar ache weighing on her heart. “They wanted to be here for my birthday. The big, legal twenty-one life changer. Mom thought I’d be traumatized. And I was—for an entirely different reason.” Tears stung her eyes.

  “Annie—”

  “It’s the reason Claire and I connected right away—she lost her parents when she was just a kid. Watched them drown when their car went into an icy river. She still won’t tell me how she managed to get herself out.” She took in a deep breath, the ache easing. “I didn’t tell you for sympathy. Just so you know—I’ve been there, and I got from there to here with a butt load of help from my friends. So don’t shut us out.” He blinked at her. “Yeah, friends. You’re stuck with us now, pal, so get used to it.”

  Eric didn’t say anything—just pulled her into his arms and held on. Annie rubbed his back, whispered to him. When the first sob escaped, she led him to the sofa, eased him down, and let him grieve. He sure didn’t have the chance before now.

  He lifted his head, accepted the box of tissue, turned away from her while he blew his nose, wiped his face. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t you dare.” He looked over at her, both eyebrows raised. “Never apologize for dumping on me, Eric. You’ll be the dumpee someday, I promise, and you—”

  He cut her off by yanking her forward and kissing her.

  After the initial shock, Annie slid both hands up his chest, wrapped herself around him. He tasted like mint and tequila. And he was gentle, both hands framing her face as he deepened the kiss, bit by bit, until she thought she’d go crazy with the need for more. She moaned when he lowered her to the sofa, arched against him when he thoroughly explored her mouth.

  He broke away, stared down at her. “Annie—”

  “Stop now and I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

  With a low, rumbling laugh, he lifted her off the sofa—then swept her off her feet. Her heart stuttered in her chest, started pounding as he headed for the bed.

  *

  “Thank you,” Eric whispered against her hair, both arms tightening around her.

  “I always aim to please.”

  His laughter rumbled against her ear. “I didn’t mean for the chance to get naked and sweaty with you—though I am absolutely grateful for that. I meant for the comfort.”

  Annie leaned up just enough to kiss his jaw. “Anytime. I mean it—and not only because of the incredible, mind-blowing sex. I’ve been where you are, and
knowing I could count on someone just being there helped so much.”

  “I like you being here.”

  She snuggled in, relished the feel of his bare skin against hers. It was so rare for her to find a taller man that didn’t feel intimidated by her height—or her abrasive personality. Eric appreciated both, in a way that made her feel cherished. She didn’t want to leave. Ever. But the real world called, and they had to answer the damn door.

  “So.” She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him. “When does your flight leave?”

  His smile shot straight through her.

  “I don’t have a reservation. I was just planning to take the next flight out when I got to the airport. I know the schedule pretty much by heart.”

  “The schedule to where?”

  “Topeka, Kansas.”

  Annie sat up. “Kansas?” Panic lodged in her throat. “I thought home was San Francisco.”

  “I can’t go back there. Please understand, Annie.” He caught her hands, tightened his grip when she started to retreat. “I have a small farm my parents left to me. It will give me room to think, to figure out what I want to do from here. I already called the vet clinic, told them I was taking an extended leave of absence. Privilege of being the boss.” He slid his hands up her arms, framed her face. “There is nothing for me in San Francisco. But here—why did I find you now, in a place I can’t stay?”

  He kissed her cheek. Swallowing, she eased out of his grip and turned her head away, tears filling her eyes. “You should go now, while it’s still easy—”

  “Too late.” She looked at him. “In the short time I’ve known you, I have figured out that nothing to do with you would be easy. God help me, I’m going to miss you, but I have to go. At least for now, until I can sort things out. Please understand.”

  “I wish I didn’t, so I could complain about how unfair this is.” With a sigh, she brushed her fingers over his cheek. “But I understand, so there goes the bitch session. I still am going to complain, a little.”

  “You go right ahead.” He kissed her, then sat, pulling her up with him. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to dinner.”

  “And then what?”

  His smile had her pulse racing.

  “We come back here, get naked and sweaty again.”

  TWELVE

  After spending most of the night awake, they decided Eric should take the early morning flight out. Fewer people, easier for him to sleep on the way.

  Annie walked with him to the curved driveway in front of the hotel.

  “Call me when you get there,” she said.

  “You’re sure?”

  They spent almost as much time arguing about this as they did making love. Annie wanted to see if they could make things work long distance. Eric didn’t want to tie her to someone with his baggage. She still wanted to laugh at that one.

  “You don’t call me, I’ll hunt you down. Shouldn’t be hard, seeing as Kansas is flat.”

  His laughter warmed her.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  “You better, damn it.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, let his scent fill her. His hands slid up her back, into her hair. She pulled back, met his eyes. “Now kiss me goodbye, so I can start practice on my not-going-to-get-emotional send off.”

  “You are a surprise.” He kissed her cheek. “A pleasure.” Then her other cheek. “And the only reason I regret leaving.” His lips claimed hers, kissing her so thoroughly she felt her knees turn to water. Gasping, she clung to him, to keep from becoming a puddle on the sidewalk. Eric tightened his grip on her, buried his face in her hair. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You too,” she whispered. Tears lodged in her throat.

  Letting go, he cupped her chin, met her eyes. “I mean it, Annie. You take care.”

  She jerked out of his grip.

  “If you’re trying to warn me off Claire, you can shut the hell up and start walking—”

  “Whoa—” Eric caught her hand. “I know how important she is to you. I also know how much her cousin hates her.” He swallowed, and Annie felt like dirt for forcing him down that road. “You are her closest friend. That makes you a target. Katelyn was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Taking both hands, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I can’t lose you, too.”

  “And now I feel like an idiot.” Easing back, she looked at him. “Not only will I keep myself out of the deep, I’ll keep Claire out of it. You go commune with nature, or whatever you plan to do in the middle of nowhere.”

  His laughter was a reward, and painful at the same time. She would miss the low rumble of it as much as she would miss him. And how stupid was it to fall for a man the night before he walked out of her life?

  One of the hotel cars pulled up, the valet rushing forward to open the passenger door.

  “So.” Eric walked backward, leading her toward the car. “Want a ride back to town?”

  “And make out in the courtesy hotel limo?” Annie put away the ache for later. “Sign me up.”

  *

  Annie watched the limo until it turned the corner, refusing to cry on a public street. Even if it was deserted. She would suck it up, then get home and curl into a ball on her bed. About two days of self-pity should do it—

  “Spare change, lady?”

  Annie whirled and took a giant step back from the hunched figure. A hood shadowed her face, the stained cloak not an odd accessory on the homeless around here. Long, dark hair spilled over one shoulder—and that made her take a bigger step back. Natasha had dark hair—

  “I know you got money, lady. Saw you get out of that fancy car.” The woman shuffled forward. “Gimme, and I won’t hurt you.”

  A knife flashed in the hand reaching out from under the cloak, and the hood slipped back, revealing her thief. Definitely not Natasha. Heart pounding, Annie raised both hands, backing away from the woman.

  “I’ll give you what you want. No need for violence—just give me a second—” She dug into her purse, pulled out the twenty she kept for emergencies. “Here—it’s all I have on—”

  “I bet you got a fat bank account.” The knife moved closer. Annie stumbled backward—and smacked into the building behind her. The bank. “Whip out that magic card. Time to do your good deed for the day.”

  “Okay—there’s no need for the knife. I’m just going to get my wallet.” She reached in, her hand shaking, finally managed to grab it, and held it up. “I’m going over to the ATM now, okay?”

  The knife twitched, and Annie froze.

  “Move it,” the woman said. “Before we get company.”

  She herded Annie to the ATM machine. Then she slipped the knife up until the tip pricked Annie’s jaw; if her hands weren’t shaking enough before, that got them going. It took three tries to punch in her pin number—and the third time she forced herself to focus, or the machine would eat her card. Then she’d be shit out of luck.

  “That’s it?” The woman pressed up against her, staring at Annie’s pitiful account balance. Her stale body odor made Annie want to recoil. “You have more—with that fancy car, you have to have more—”

  “I’m sorry.” Annie eased away from the knife blade. “My friend is the one with money—I can give you—”

  The woman screamed and lunged at her.

  Annie retreated, arms raised, hoping the knife wouldn’t slice into something life threatening—

  She tripped, flying backward. The knife thrust into the space she occupied a second ago. Scrambling to her feet, Annie ran.

  She skidded around the corner, hoping to lose herself in one of the narrow alleyways on Forest. A body tackled her from behind. They tumbled to the sidewalk, Annie’s left elbow bouncing off the decorative brick. Pain radiated up her arm. She rolled over, tangled in the woman’s dirty cloak, cheap velvet snagging her good arm.

  With a frustrated scream, the woman grabbed Annie’s hair and pounded her head against the sidewalk. Only Annie’s oversized purse kept h
er from serious injury. It acted like a buffer, but she still hit with enough force to make her dizzy.

  Fingers scrabbled over her. Annie let out her own scream and slapped at the invading hands. She didn’t expect help, didn’t even hope for it. Not on a street full of businesses just after dawn—

  The weight on her disappeared. Annie snapped up her right arm, ready to fend off another attacker.

  “I’m here to help. Are you hurt, dear?” The low, muffled voice sounded female. Strong hands lifted Annie to her feet, led her away from the huddled pile of velvet, leaned her against the nearest storefront. “She won’t bother you again.”

  “Thank you,” Annie whispered, her voice shaking almost as much as the rest of her. “Is she—”

  “Just out of commission. Stop worrying, Annie. You’re safe now.”

  “How do you—” Light from a passing truck flashed over her rescuer’s shadowed face, and Annie’s heart skipped. “Natasha—”

  “Ah, you remember me.” Her grip on Annie tightened with bruising force. “That will save time on explanations. Come quietly, and I will not harm Claire.”

  “What do you want with her—” She let out a cry as Natasha’s fingers twisted into her arms.

  “Questions can wait. I will give you all the answers you want. Now, will you come quietly and not fight me, no matter what I ask of you?”

  That ratcheted Annie’s panic. But she had no choice, no wiggle room.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll do what you want.”

  THIRTEEN

  Claire unlocked the back door of the shop and stepped inside. Expecting to see the aftermath of her rushed packing job, and her confrontation with Marcus, she was only partly surprised by the tidy shop.

  Annie. She wouldn’t have left a mess for Claire, especially after what happened with Natasha. There were times when Claire knew she didn’t deserve the unconditional trust.

  Headed for the front counter, she checked the message machine. Nothing. There had been no message at home either. She expected Annie to at least leave a voicemail telling her that Eric was gone. Claire wished him all the best—she just didn’t want to have to face him again to say it.