by Dean, Cate
“What options? We can’t even get close to the damn place, as you so delicately pointed out.”
“So we’ll find another—shit.”
Theresa was gone.
Simon ran across the yard and down to the street corner, skidding to a halt. He caught Eric’s arm as he saw her, heading up the long sidewalk to the Victorian.
He couldn’t call out, couldn’t stop her, and damn if she didn’t know it.
Helpless, he watched her walk straight toward the hot zone.
ELEVEN
Marcus knelt on the stone floor, wrapped in chain and blood.
Steel chain—to cripple his power.
Half a dozen men stood over him, one of them holding a stained whip. Claire hugged the wall behind her, hidden by the flickering shadows. It was solid, real. She was here.
The man holding the whip spoke, his light voice edged with satisfaction. “You will make your confession, Marcus of Sinai, and accept the sentence laid down by this council.” The whip dragged across stone, leaving behind a dark trail. “Will you speak?”
Swallowing, Marcus said nothing. Before she could react the whip snapped up and out, sliced into already lacerated skin. Marcus hunched over, his sweat soaked hair nearly touching the floor. Agony wrapped him like a shroud.
His tormentor raised the whip again—and Claire pushed off the wall.
“Stop!”
He spun, a knife in his free hand. Shaking, she moved out of the shadows, and stepped between him and Marcus. He hissed, raised his knife. Silver flared around the man, and she realized he was Jinn. “Demon—you dare walk among us—”
“Harm her, Baran, and it will be your life.” Marcus lifted his head; she sucked in a breath when she saw the ugly welt across his left cheek. Pain scraped his sand rough voice. “Claire, what are—Baran no—”
She whirled, warned by the panic in his voice—just in time to see Baran raise the whip and snap it forward. Flinging up her arm, she covered her face and stepped in front of the whip.
“Claire!”
Fire ripped across her forearm. She locked her knees, waited for the next blow, determined Marcus wouldn’t be hurt again—
“Enough.” The giant figure appeared in front of her, catching the whip in his hand. With a start she recognized him—Jamal, the man who had been training with Marcus, teasing him about her. Yanking the whip out of Baran’s hand, he turned, clear, sharp green eyes studying her. “Give me your arm, child.”
She obeyed, dizzy with pain, wanting to sink to the floor. Instead, she watched him remove a length of red silk wrapped around his waist and use it to bind her arm. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Sit now, before you topple over.” He eased her to the floor, crouched in front of Marcus. “This is how you talk your way free?”
Marcus raised his head, blood sliding down his throat. “I was ambushed, on my way to the trial.” Claire flinched at his raw voice.
“I gave you the time you asked me for. You should be grateful I decided to break my promise and check on you.”
Marcus sucked in his breath as Jamal touched the chains trapping him. They snapped open and clattered to the stone floor.
Baran’s furious roar brought Jamal to his feet. “You dare interfere—
“You dare question my authority?” Jamal raised his arms and every door in the chamber slammed shut. The other men trying to quietly sneak out froze. “You may not agree with my decisions, Baran,” Jamal stepped to him, towering over the smaller Jinn. “But you will obey them. Marcus will be freed. This woman knows him, bears witness to his redemption, and I believe her.”
She gave Baran credit; however foolish, he refused to back down. “I have not heard this evidence—”
“And you never will. That is for me to decide, and I decide, demon or no, that she knows the truth.” Jamal leaned down, until he was eye level, spoke in ancient Arabic. The Jinn’s face paled, and Claire understood who Jamal was. What he was. “Leave us, before I bestow on you the punishment you gave Marcus.”
Baran stumbled backward, his face drained of color. The silver Claire saw flaring around him before snuffed out. “You cannot—”
“Don’t tempt me, Jinn. Out—all of you. Now.”
The doors flew open, and the men did the smart thing—they ran. Baran paused at the threshold of the double doors, gave Jamal a mocking bow before he strode out of sight.
“Impudent sand pup.” Another flick of his hand closed the doors, locks clicking over, turning the torture chamber into a safe haven. Jamal knelt behind Marcus, whistled as he peeled what was left of Marcus’s shirt off his back. “Baran always did hate you best, my friend. Can you do this on your own?”
Nodding, Marcus clutched the floor, his left arm shaking. Sand and smoke whipped out of thin air, gathered around his hunched figure. Claire watched him heal, his soul a bright, pure light inside the whirlwind. His power astonished her—he had never completely worn it until now. Three hundred years in a cave, separated from the sun and sand that was his essence, had broken part of him.
Now, as the sand, the smoke dissipated, he stood, the gold of his power glowing in his jade green eyes.
“Claire.” He stepped back, and pain wrapped around her heart. “I never meant—”
“I did.” Jamal looked at her, an apology in the sharp green eyes. “I opened your connection to each other. I knew you would think of her—”
“Wait.” Claire stared up at him. “I was your early warning system?”
He managed to look sheepish. “A simple charm—if he thought of you under duress, that thought would bring you to him. Your presence alerted me, saved his life.” The green eyes narrowed as they studied Marcus. “Though I am far from certain he wanted saving.”
“You are Marid.” Claire never thought one of the most powerful of the Jinn existed. Or that he would be so—benign.
“I brought you here, to use, in whatever way necessary, to free Marcus.”
Marcus grabbed Jamal’s arm. “You put her right in front of Baran—”
“And I am sorry for it.” Jamal looked down at Marcus, regret in his eyes. “I am sorry.” He eased out of Marcus’ grip, laid one hand on her cheek. Heat spread through her—heat she recognized. It wrapped around the wound on her forearm, drew out the pain. “Thank you for protecting him. I underestimated the anger Baran harbored, and because of that I wasn’t here to deflect his vengeance.”
He kissed her forehead, her skin tingling from the touch of his lips. His smile left her breathless. She felt the power behind it, similar to Marcus, but magnified beyond anything she had experienced.
“It is time to take you back, child. I pulled you from people who need your presence, and you will need the power you fear you no longer have.”
Marcus caught her shoulders. “What is he talking about?”
“Nothing you can assist her with, Marcus.” Jamal eased Marcus away, laid one hand on his newly scarred cheek. “You are not done here, and what she faces is not for you.” Stepping to Claire, he wrapped one arm around her waist. “Say goodbye, child.”
Panic flared—it was happening too fast, she wasn’t ready to leave him—
“Claire—” He reached out for her.
“Keep yourself safe. Come back to me.”
Anguish tightened his face—but before she could say anything sand burst up from the floor and spun around them.
Jamal pressed one hand against the scar left by Natasha’s knife. Fire exploded through her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t scream.
His voice cut through the agony. “Forgive me, child. You will never break the wall, and you need what is behind it. I will stand between Marcus and the council—I promise you, he won’t be harmed again.”
The whirlwind drowned out everything. Only the force of his grip told Claire he was still with her. And she lost even that when he let go.
She fell, through sand and wind, the tearing inside her the last thing she felt before the darkn
ess claimed her.
TWELVE
“—hear me? Claire.”
The pressure on her scar jerked her out of darkness and into pain.
She doubled over the agony squeezing her ribs. A strong arm slid around her waist, easing her to the floor.
“Claire.” Gentle hands brushed away the hair sticking to her face. She felt cold—except behind the wall, where the power that had been trapped since Azazel sent her back from the gates of Hell pulsed, and woke. “Let me help you.”
“No—” His hands cradled her face, so warm against her iced skin, so comforting she wanted to lean in, let that feeling wash through her, heal every ache she had carried for so long—
“I know this is my doing. Pushing you, trapping you for my own agenda.” His voice soothed as much as his touch. She opened her eyes, met the remorse in his. “Let me take away some of the pain I caused.” Before she knew what he meant he laid one hand over the scar. And his power blasted through the widening cracks in her wall.
“God—” She batted at his hand, managed to take in a breath. “Off—”
Zach freed her, but she could feel him, hovering, waiting. She crawled across the floor, away from him, away from the bright, clean arc of his power, edged with the impossible. The wall inside her broke, the jagged edges shifting, scraping, so close to letting out the part of herself she was afraid she could no longer control—
“No.” He gripped her arm, trapped her against the floor. “Tell me what to do. I know you were somewhere else. I felt you leave. Now tell me how to ease your suffering.”
“There is nothing—you can do. Get out. Now, Zach, before I—”
“Who are you?” She looked up, met the fierce blue eyes. “You are more than a witch. I have sensed it, felt that you are—more. You are protected, by a power I have never touched before.”
“Not—important.” She caught his wrist, her fingers shaking from the pain. Every breath was a victory, and with every breath she regained control, nudged the jagged pieces closer together. “Let go, Zach.”
He obeyed, to her surprise, kneeling beside her while she gathered her scattered strength. “Tell me what happened to you. How did you—leave, without my knowledge? You should not have been able to—”
“Someone more powerful than you.” She took in a deeper breath, the pain nearly gone, the wall nearly intact. For now. “It doesn’t matter. I can help you, Zach—if you tell me what you really want.” He jerked away from her, staring at the wall behind her. “All I ask is that you free my friends. They can’t be of any help to you. I know you figured this out already—you’re hardly stupid.” He turned his head, anger slapping her. “Let them go, Zach. Please. Annie is hurt, and they are all scared—”
“I cannot.” He leaned forward, pulled Claire to her feet. Shorter than Annie, he still topped her barely five foot two by several inches. “I need them. If I am to stand against those who hold me, I must have leverage.”
“They are not pawns, and I won’t let you use them—”
“I have no choice!” Fingers dug into her arms, shaking with the tangle of fear, anger, hopelessness that radiated from him. “I am bound, for all eternity, because I was foolish, because I was proud.” Claire swallowed, understanding too well. “I am to be made an example, and what I ask will never be granted. But if I can bring a trade to the table—”
“And that trade would be our lives.”
Shame flared in those clear blue eyes—just long enough for her to see it, recognize that what he did was as much out of desperation as it was necessity. Something else she understood. “They left me no choice.”
“But I am giving you one now.”
He stared at her, started to shake his head. “How will I know—”
“If I’m lying to get them free of you? I don’t make promises I can’t keep. And yes, you’ll have to take me at my word, unless you have a lie detector hidden in your pocket.” He bit his lip on a smile. It encouraged her. “You have to trust someone, Zach.”
“I want to live—to have your freedoms, your cares, your life.”
“But you already—”
“I haven’t.” He swallowed, lowered his head. “I am not—what you think. I wasn’t an errant mortal, who is doing good to wipe the stain off my soul.” With a deep breath, he met her eyes—and the sorrow, the despair cut into her heart. “My name is Zachariah. I am not mortal. I am an angel, exiled to the wastelands of Between because I wanted more.”
“Heaven above,” she whispered.
“I do not even know if my Father realizes I am gone.” He closed his eyes. “Or if he would care.”
“Zach.” She ached for him, knowing what that exile meant, how her own had torn away all that she was. And she knew what she was about to offer would cost her. “I can help you. But I won’t—until you let my friends go.”
He looked at her, and the ache intensified. Despite all he had done, she couldn’t lay blame. Not completely.
She jumped when a loud snap shot through the room. The door lock. One by one, she heard locks click over. By the time the last one echoed through the house, Zach was sheet white, his hand trembling as he held it out to her. He looked painfully human, vulnerable, trusting. Claire forced herself not to believe it.
“I have opened the way. They will be able to pass. After you help me.”
*
Annie pushed herself off the bed when she heard the series of clicks.
That bastard unlocked the doors.
“Regina—” Using the wall as a crutch, she reached the door just as Regina appeared, Hillary in tow. “Did you hear?”
“Yes. Do you think—”
“Let’s go find out.”
Regina helped her down the short hall; Hillary ran ahead of them.
“Hil—wait for us—”
The girl reached for the door knob just as they caught up to her—and jerked back with a shriek when the bell chimed. Leaving Annie next to the wall, Regina eased her daughter aside and opened the door.
Annie nearly hit the floor when she recognized who stood on the doorstep.
“Good morning.” Theresa smiled, giving Annie a slight nod when their eyes met. Well, damn it— “I’m the local welcome wagon, and I just wanted to drop by and say hi.”
She stepped forward, holding out her hand—and flinched when it passed over the threshold.
Annie stilled, waited for retribution to drop on Theresa’s head. Nothing happened. But she jerked her hand back, her face white with shock.
Regina reached out to help her, gasped when her hand smacked into an invisible barrier. Annie clutched the wall, wanting to strangle the angelic bastard for handing out false hope.
Theresa’s nervous jabbering pulled her out of her revenge fantasy.
“Did you know we have some of the biggest rats here? They seem to love the sea air. You’re lucky, living on the street side of Beach. If you were on the ocean side, you’d have to watch out for them, they love to burrow in and settle.”
Regina’s face went white. “I have a basement.”
“A basement?” Theresa nearly shouted it. She might as well have stuck a neon sign on her forehead stating “I am a diversion.” Annie started forward, anger smothering her pain. “Quite unusual for California. Did you know—”
“Can I help you?” Annie interrupted her, and swore the girl lost about five more shades of color off her face. “We’re a little—occupied today, with all the moving in.”
She tried not to flinch, but Theresa noticed. Her gaze shot down to Annie’s hip, then back to her face. “Sorry to bother.” She pasted a smile on her face. “Can I ask a favor? Would it be possible to—”
“No.” Zach stalked down the stairs, favoring his left hip. Annie’s heart jumped when she saw Claire with him. Paler than the pristine wall behind her, but alive, and whole. He stepped to the door and grabbed Regina’s arm. Theresa blinked, but Annie gave her points for not backing away. Even a blind man could have seen the anger pouring o
ff him. “You will go. Now.”
“Sure—just wanted to introduce myself, let you know if you need anything I’m right around the corner—”
“Now.”
She jumped, stumbling as she retreated. And froze when Claire came around the door, one hand closing over Zach’s wrist.
“Hello, Theresa.”
Brown eyes widened, panic jumping off her, causing sparks to dance across Annie’s ring. “Claire—I didn’t—”
“Know I was acquainted with Regina?” She tilted her head—and winked. Theresa relaxed, moving closer to the door. Still keeping Zach in place with her grip, Claire gave her an easy smile. “She’s a longtime customer. I was thrilled when I found out she moved to Santa Luna, and came over to see how I could help.”
Oh, she’s good. It could have fallen apart, right then, if Claire wasn’t the whip smart witch/ex-demon/fallen angel Annie knew and loved. She had to find a way to shorten that title—for future introductions.
With a sharp jerk Zach freed his arm and stalked forward. Annie held her breath; let it out in a painful whoosh when he halted, as if he’d run into a wall. The binding spell worked—and he was just as trapped. Served him right. The evil eye he gave Claire over his shoulder had Annie pushing off the wall.
“You will leave.” Zach all but snarled the words. “Immediately.”
“Sure.” Theresa pasted on a smile, but sweat trickled down her face. “I’ll tell my brothers you said hi.”
Claire looked startled, then nodded. “Give them my best, and tell them not to bother coming over. Regina got all the help she needed.”
“I—okay.” Theresa backed down the sidewalk. “I’ll try to catch them before they—bye, then.”
Annie didn’t see if she made it down the sidewalk without tripping. Zach slammed the door and lunged at her. Claire stepped in his path.
“No harm was done. A neighbor, being friendly. It is what we do, as humans.”
Swinging her gaze back and forth, Annie let the questions running through her mind stay on a mental treadmill. Fists clenched, Zach backed away, pain tightening his face when he put weight on his left side. Part of her felt a petty satisfaction that he hurt.
