by Dean, Cate
“You think I don’t know that? I have been among you mortals for—”
With a furious shout he whirled, blocking the base of the stairs between one breath and the next. Annie shoved Hillary against the wall, brought up the shotgun. Zach gestured and it flew out of her hands, embedding itself barrel first into the plaster wall.
“Zach—”
“You dare to betray me? To fool me—”
“Not to fool.” Claire stepped forward, held up both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “I wouldn’t treat you that way. I want them safe, and I don’t want you to punish them for what was my idea.”
“Fine.” He flung out his hand—and Claire slammed into the wall, inches from the protruding shotgun. Pain radiated across her back at impact, spiraled as he pushed her into the cracked plaster. She couldn’t catch her breath—his invisible grip squeezed her lungs, pressed on her ribs with such force she expected them to crack at any moment—
Without warning he freed her, and she dropped to the floor. The first breath hurt, reminded her of another first breath. One she never thought to take. Before she could recover he grabbed her arms, dragging her to her feet. The shock of his touch drove through her. That shock crossed his face, and he stared at her, his body trapping her against the wall.
She gasped as something splintered inside her—and she felt it, for the first time since Azazel sent her back. Her power, shining through a crack in the wall. The power of an angel—the power she had before she fell. Before she gave up all she was for pride.
“Who are you—” A strangled cry cut him off when she wrapped shaking fingers in his hair and yanked. He let her go and backed away, clutching his scalp. “Why? I would not have hurt you. I just want to live.”
“Wanting that life—doesn’t mean you’ll get it.” Claire caught her breath, her ribs aching from his assault. “What do you want us to do?”
“Make them listen.” He spun, facing the trio on the stairs. Annie held Regina, who had Hillary in her embrace, one hand over her mouth. The girl stared at Zach, not in fear, but in—wonder. Claire felt it, saw it. Saw the rage pouring off Annie, edged with helplessness, and the maternal need mingling with the terror that surrounded Regina. “And if I must hurt to do so, I will.”
He turned back to her, and she saw the white light of a guardian, like a nimbus around him. A different light tangled with it, fractured, smothered in spots, like the broken lights on a marquee. As if he knew she saw it, he clenched his fist, and the light receded, flashing across the mark on his wrist before it disappeared.
“Try to leave again, and there will be pain.” His other hand sliced through the air; and the sound of locks clicking over echoed through the house. “Am I understood?”
Claire nodded, closed her eyes after he blinked out of sight. Pounding footsteps had her opening them again, and she held up a hand before Annie could touch her. “I’m—all right.”
“Could have fooled me. Will touching you hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” she whispered. Every inch felt raw—from her impact with the wall, and the reconnection to a power she had not touched since she was cast down. Annie handled her as if she were as fragile as fine china, eased her to the floor and knelt beside her. “Did you hear?”
“Yeah. Guardian angel, feels cheated, wants his life back. So much for a simple ghost busting.” Annie glanced up at the shotgun sticking out of the wall. “Looks like we stepped in deep.”
“Is he really a guardian angel?” Claire lifted her head, met Hillary’s soft brown eyes.
“He is, sweetheart.”
“Why did he pick me?”
Claire held out her hand. The girl took it, kneeling in front of her. Fear and awe swirled around her, their potency leaving Claire lightheaded. “Do you pray?”
“Of course.” She glanced at her mother. “Almost every night. Sometimes I forget.”
“I bet he heard your prayers, and thought you could help each other.” Claire sandwiched her hand. “I don’t believe he meant to scare you. He is in pain, Hillary. Not the physical kind, but pain of the spirit. Do you understand?”
“I think so. Like when your heart hurts.” Regina let out a strangled sound. “It’s not your fault, Mom. Dad made my heart hurt, not you.”
“Oh, honey.” Regina gathered her daughter into her arms, tears filming the dark eyes. “I am so sorry.” Rocking Hillary, she looked at Claire. “What do we do now? He won’t let us go until he gets what he wants—and from what I understand, what he wants is impossible.”
With an effort, Claire uncurled her fingers. Strands of golden brown hair glinted in her palm.
“I have an idea.”
FIVE
Annie helped Claire climb the stairs, more than a little scared by Claire’s shock white face, the way her hands shook. Something happened when that ethereal bastard touched her; Annie could sense it, and the sparks shooting over the sapphire in her engagement ring danced in agreement.
They followed Regina to one of the small bedrooms at the back of the house. Once she lowered Claire to the double bed she checked the window. The latch lock on the sash window was frozen, and confirmed her suspicion. He had turned the house into a prison.
“Annie.” She turned back to Claire, relieved to see some color returning to her face. “Can you manage a protection circle? I don’t want Zach touching them again—”
“Is that the bastard’s name?”
“Annie.”
Her gaze skated over to the girl. “Sorry. My mouth doesn’t have a censor.” Hillary giggled, making Annie smile. It sounded normal—the first normal, little girl sound she’d made since they met her.
“Did you want to help me make a special circle? If it’s okay with your mom.” Regina nodded, obviously realizing Annie’s intent—a distraction for Hillary. “We’ll need some salt, and I have a giant economy size container of it in my duffle. Do you remember the one we brought with us?” Hillary nodded. “Why don’t you and your mom bring that duffle upstairs? It has everything we need to make the best protection circle you’ll ever see.”
Regina helped her daughter up, nodded to Annie as they left.
“Well done,” Claire said. She was sitting up straighter, no longer clutching the bed for support. “Now, we’re going to need some things I know I don’t have in my duffle. And I am going to need your power—I’ll tell you later.” She pointed to one ear, and Annie wanted to slap herself. Of course he’d be listening. “Now, can you do me a favor? My back is killing me. I just want to make certain it’s because of bruising, and nothing worse.”
“Of course.” Kneeling on the bed behind her, Annie helped Claire take her jacket off, noticing how stiffly she moved. The black shirt she wore underneath would hide any blood. Gently, she lifted the hem of the shirt, relieved that there was no blood, and horrified by the really appalling bruises marking her back. No wonder she hurt. “Just bruising. Incredibly nasty bruising, but he didn’t break the skin.”
“Thank you.” Claire flinched as she eased the shirt down, wiped at the sweat trickling down her cheek. “Hillary—thank you for bringing the duffle bag up. I don’t know if I would have been able to manage it.”
“He hurt you.”
“He was defending himself. Sometimes that means hurting someone else, if they feel they are in danger. Do you understand?”
Hillary studied her face, nodding. “He’s scared.”
“Exactly. And we are going to do everything we can to keep him from being scared. To try and help him find what he needs. Which means we will need a few things—one of them from you, sweetheart. It will be a sacrifice, if you agree.”
“What?” She sounded wary. Annie didn’t blame her.
“I need a doll. A cloth doll, if you have one.”
“Will I get her back?”
Claire touched her wrist. “I can’t promise, but I will do my best to get her back to you.”
Hillary studied Claire, those big brown eyes sober. Without w
arning she jumped up and ran out of the bedroom.
“Hil—”
“Wait, Regina. Keep her in sight, but let her do this on her own.” The woman nodded, darted out of the room. “They’re holding up better than I expected. Especially Hillary.”
“She’s one tough kid.” Annie sat next to her on the bed. “I bet you were like that.”
“Me?” Claire looked over at her. “I was cold, withdrawn.” She spoke quietly, so Annie had to lean in to hear. “I had been a demon for centuries, reigning in Hell beside Azazel, and centuries more wandering the earth as an exile, alone. I had to learn compassion, learn how to show emotion, until I understood, as a human, I could actually feel it.”
“God—Claire, I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“Don’t apologize. Just another facet in the life of Claire.”
“I thought you were thrown out of—you know—because of your compassion.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “I lost everything. That killed it pretty quickly. Ah, look at this,” she said as Hillary dashed into the room. “What a lovely doll she is, as well.”
“Her name is Sophie.” Hillary clutched the rag doll, touching the mop of black hair. After a long hesitation, she held it out. “I hope she’s good enough.”
Claire accepted the doll, tucking it in the crook of her arm. “She is more than good enough. Thank you, Hillary. I will take the best care with her.”
“Okay.” Regina wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “I’m okay, Mom. It’s just a doll.”
“Your favorite. I am proud of you, honey.” Hillary blushed, staring at her feet. Running a soothing hand up and down her daughter’s arm, she looked at Claire. “I assume you need other—ingredients.”
“As a matter of fact,” Claire mimed writing to Annie. She started to shake her head—then remembered the pad and pen Claire kept in the duffle. Pulling them out, she handed them over. “I would be thrilled if I could get a glass of water.” Scribbling as she talked, Claire finished, gave the pad to Regina. “And I think I need to lie down for a bit.”
With a groan, she lowered herself to the bed. Annie knelt next to her, fear leaping as she watched the color drain from Claire’s face.
“Are you okay?” Hillary beat her to the question, pulling away from her mom to crawl on the bed and take Claire’s hand. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, sweetheart.” Claire opened her eyes, and the pain that flared in the blue depths told Annie the truth. “It’s an old injury. I just need a little rest, and I’ll be fine. Thank you, for caring, and for Sophie. Annie—I think it’s time for that circle. Regina, if you could—” She waved at the pad.
“As fast as I can. Stay here, Hillary. Do what Claire says.” With a last look at her daughter, she strode through the doorway.
“Annie—”
“Stay put. Hillary—can you get the salt out of the duffle for me?” Once she was out of earshot Annie leaned in. “And next time you lie to me about being okay, I’m going to cart you to the nearest hospital myself.” Knowing how much Claire hated them, she considered it a threat that might get through the stubborn. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” Groaning, she closed her eyes. “Thank you for casting the circle.”
“Right—got the hint.”
Checking on Claire pretty much every other minute, Annie composed a chant specific to what they were trying to protect themselves from—a guardian angel, of all things. Looking at Claire yet again, she understood, for the first time since coming back from Huntsville, that her friend was no longer indestructible.
Accepting the salt from Hillary, she used it to make a physical circle, chanting under her breath, well aware of her audience.
“I want you to stay inside the ring of salt, no matter what you hear.” Crouching down, she looked at Hillary. “Your mom is scared, and worried about you. It would make her, and me, feel a whole lot better if you stayed here, where we know you’re safe.”
“Will Mom be here with me?” Hillary’s panic-edged voice reminded Annie that she was just a little girl, caught up in a situation even adults would have issues dealing with.
“Every minute, and me or Claire, when we can. You won’t be alone again, honey. I promise you.”
“Okay.”
The tears in her eyes shot straight through Annie, and she pulled the girl into her arms, running one hand over her long hair while she cried. Claire watched her, a smile Annie didn’t like on her face. It was as close to smug as her friend got.
Sniffling, Hillary pulled away from her, wiping at her face. “I’m okay. Thanks,” she whispered, smiling shyly up at Annie.
“I didn’t have everything. I hope this will be enough.” Regina strode in, carrying a plastic grocery bag, and halted at the sight of her daughter huddled on the floor. “Hil—are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I was helping Annie.” She gestured to the circle of salt.
“Is that—” Regina looked at it, then at Annie. “Will that really protect us?”
“What the salt represents will.” Annie felt like she was lying through her teeth. She had no idea what would work against a raging guardian angel. Or if anything would. “It’s a physical barrier—the circle is invisible, but you’ll feel it when you step through. The salt just shows you where the protection ends.”
“So we stay inside the circle, and we’ll be safe?”
“As safe as I can—”
“Yes,” Claire said, interrupting her. “Annie is good at what she does. I trust her with my life.” She looked at Annie, and the confidence Annie desperately needed filled her blue eyes. “The circle will protect you and your daughter, if Zach manages to get past us. I don’t plan on that happening, but this is a precaution that will make me feel better.” Pushing herself up, she hid the stiffness from them. Annie recognized the careful movements; she’d seen them too much in the past months. “Ready, Annie?”
Wiping both hands on her jeans, she pushed her hair back. “I don’t know if I’d ever be ready for something like this. But let’s do it.”
SIX
Simon got lost. Twice. Cursing under his breath, he checked the map again, wished he had GPS, and made a U-turn, heading back the way he came. This time he turned left instead of right, ignoring the computer generated directions, and found the street. He slowed, reading the addresses, and saw both Claire’s and Annie’s cars in front of the Victorian on the corner.
Sitting back from the street, a wide lawn sloped down from the huge three story house. Mansion would be a better real estate description. As he was getting out of the van, a sleek black Jag pulled up behind him. Ignoring the bite of envy, he slung the duffle over his shoulder and headed toward the still purring machine.
Eric stepped out, looking as surprised as Simon felt. “What brings you here?”
“Same as you, I bet.” He waved at the cars. “Claire stopped by the rectory for her ghost hunting kit. When I couldn’t get through to her cell—”
“You came to check it out in person. All I got from Annie’s cell was static, and,” he ran one hand through his hair, let out his breath. “Hell—it sounded like words, in—”
“Latin.”
Eric looked at him, eyes troubled. “Yeah. Looks like my girl stepped in it again.”
“Ready to go get them out?”
“They won’t thank you for it,” Eric said. After scanning the street for witnesses, Simon passed him a shotgun. He faced the car to keep it out of sight, and checked it with the ease of experience, smiling at Simon’s raised eyebrow. “Best friend is a former Marine. Rock salt rounds?” Simon nodded. “Hell, my life used to be so simple.”
“Claire can complicate in a hurry.”
“Yeah.” Eric gestured to the house. “You go first—Annie will be less likely to yell at a priest.”
Simon laughed. He agreed, but he wasn’t about to say so. Annie intimidated him, and at the same time he admired her straight up way of talking.
Heading up the
cracked sidewalk, he slipped a second shotgun out of his duffle, locked and loaded, aiming at the door. Eric started to outpace him, obviously deciding to get the door so he had no choice but go in first. The heat spark of warning burst through him—and he grabbed Eric before he could touch the glowing handle.
“What the—” Eric’s protest cut off. “What do you see?”
“Power—like nothing I’ve ever come across. Stay back, until I—”
Before he could shout a warning the fierce, alien power that surrounded the house exploded.
It slammed into them with the force of a wall and picked them up. Simon felt the grip, the rage that dug in with breath-robbing force.
Helpless to stop it, he braced himself for pain as it tossed him through the air.
*
Claire froze, heat flaring from her amethyst.
“Annie, keep them inside the—”
A furious scream blasted them, bouncing off every wall. She felt power gather itself in, and understood what Zach meant to do.
God above—
The house shuddered, knocking them all off balance. Claire grabbed the wall, Zach’s rage pounding at her. She knew it was a fraction of his real power, and understood the rage was not directed at her.
Using the wall, she made her way to the nearest window—and saw two figures sprawled on the sloping lawn, weapons and the contents of a familiar duffle spread over the grass like discarded toys. Only the fact that it was the middle of a workday saved them from shocked witnesses.
“Simon,” she whispered. “What are you—stay here, Annie.”
She limped out of the bedroom. Zach appeared before she reached the stairs.
“You will order them to leave.” He trapped her against the wall, his rage swirling around him. She saw exhaustion slice through the rage, and his attempt to hide it. “They cannot be here—I will not have them here—”
“I will do it, if you do something for me.”
“You dare—”
“Yes.” She looked into the furious eyes, prayed what she remembered about guardians still held true. “I can ask for protection, even if that protection is from the guardian. And you are bound to grant the request. So I ask that you not harm the people you’ve trapped in this house, and that you let me help you. If you can let them go, it would—”
