by Dean, Cate
“That was before I knew. I told him, Zach. He didn’t believe me—he wanted to protect us from you—”
“I am not your enemy.”
“You terrified a young girl, trapped us in this house, injured my friend.” Claire looked at him, used the hand clutching his shirt to distract him from her other hand, inching down her side. “What am I supposed to think?”
“But you know—what I am, what I want. And my time is fast running out. I need them, to keep from being dragged back there. Again.”
“I’m sorry, Zach. You can’t have them. I’m so sorry.”
She punched her fist into his injured hip.
With a hoarse scream he toppled—and took her with him. They hit the floor. Hard. Zach gripped her hand when she tried to roll away from him.
“Let me go—”
“Help me.”
His raw plea stopped her fist just inches from his stomach. Jerking free, she sat, wiped at the blood on her chin.
“I am running out of good reasons to even try.” His despair shrouded him, along with a desperate fear that tainted his essence like a spreading stain. “Unlock the doors, Zach, and we will talk—”
“There is no time.” He lunged at her again. This time she was ready. Her fist caught him just under the ribs, doubled him. Gasping, he clutched the floor, lifted his head. “Please—”
He said it, for the first time since his demands and his temper trapped them here.
“Zach.” She knelt in front of him, touched his cheek, startled by the cool skin under her fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That this body is nearly done? Our—disagreement accelerated the timetable. I can feel the pull—”
“Then we’ll just help you on your way.” Simon’s low, raw voice snapped her head around.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Simon—” She climbed to her feet, panic clawing at her. “You can’t be here, not for this—”
“Deal.” He gripped his arm, his jaw clenched. “Just keep him away from me.”
Zach was right behind her, and she knew what he wanted. “No,” she said, grabbing his arm when he kept moving toward Simon. “If you want me to help, you’re going to leave us alone. Just a few minutes.” She closed her eyes, took in a shaky breath. “Simon and I have to talk.”
*
“I’m not leaving her alone in there.” Annie flinched, clutching the top of the car seat, trying not to look at the burn while Eric treated it. She kept glancing down; it hurt like the devil, worse than when the angel—guardian—whatever flamed her. She couldn’t figure out why, because it looked the same. Like a bad sunburn. “Eric—we have to—”
“Absolutely not.” He gripped her hand, such raw fear clouding his blue eyes she couldn’t take in a breath. “I could have lost you in there, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t get to you, Annie. No,” he stopped her from saying anything. “I’ll have my say. For once. You are not indestructible, and it’s time you realized that.”
“I never—”
“Claire spent God only knows how long bouncing back from anything thrown at her. Stop thinking you’re the same.” He cradled her face, his voice hoarse. “Stop, before I lose you.”
“Eric.” She turned into his hand, kissed his palm. “I didn’t know you—why didn’t you say something before now?”
“Because you love her.” He let out a sigh. “Because I do. And part of me believes, even now, that she can beat the odds.”
“It’s hard not to. I won’t leave her in there alone with—”
“She’s not alone.” He laid her back on the seat, effectively blocking her in. “And Simon won’t let anything happen to her.”
*
Claire led Simon out of the bedroom, heading for the bathroom down the hall. He stopped her outside the door, tipped up her chin. “You look like you were dragged down that ten miles of bad road. Does it hurt?”
“Not so much, now. I’ll be fine, Simon. Let’s get you inside before you fall over.” She didn’t like the grey cast to his face. “Sit. Let me take a look at that shoulder.”
“There’s nothing you can—” He let out a choked scream as she snapped his shoulder back into place. “Damn it—you couldn’t give me a little warning?”
“You would have tightened up. I wasn’t sure I had enough to pop it back in when you were relaxed. I’m sorry—for everything.”
He looked at her. “It’s time for your story, isn’t it.”
Swallowing, Claire unbuttoned her shirt. “It’s past time.” She slipped it off, twisted the fabric to create a sling. “I put it off, because I know once I tell you, it will probably—no, it will end our friendship.”
“Do you think so little of me?”
“Far from it. Someone with less honor would want me dead.” She forced herself to look into his eyes. “And yes, what I have to tell you is that bad.”
Carefully, and with the knowledge that this would most likely be their last minutes as friends, Claire tied the makeshift sling at the back of his neck, eased his arm into it. He caught her wrist before she could retreat.
“Whatever you tell me, Claire, it won’t change the way I feel about you.”
“I’ll hold on to that.” She stayed where she was, knowing he would let go of her soon enough. “Okay—quick and dirty, because I don’t think Zach is going to give me much more time. I stood with Lucifer in Heaven, one of his renegade angels, and was cast down for it. I spent centuries in Hell torturing souls of the damned, more in exile for starting to care about those souls, and the last eighty years disguised as a human.” His hand dropped away, and her hope went with it. “When you met me, I had just come back from Hell, where I sent the demon who tried to destroy my friends, and where my master, my brother Azazel told me I have a soul. He created the wall you felt trapping my power, to keep me safe from the demon still inside.”
Simon stared at her, his face blank, his eyes cold. Without a word he stood and walked past her, down the stairs, out of sight. Never looking back.
Claire let out a shaky breath, swallowed past the grief lodged in her throat. Tears she rarely shed slipped down her face, only increasing the weight that pressed on her heart. She moved, slow and deliberate, like she had just been given life-changing bad news. Zach stood in the middle of the bedroom, bloody and bruised.
“You have been wounded.” He moved forward, his touch healing instead of hurting this time. “Down to the soul. What did he do?”
“Nothing I didn’t expect.” Her voice sounded flat, and she felt—heavy. “If you still want this, Zach, there are things you need to know. Conditions, risks—to both of us—what you will lose.”
“I do not care—”
“You should.” And the pain finally hit. Sharp, gut wrenching. She wrapped both arms around her waist, cold and vulnerable in her thin lace camisole. “What you want will rip out the core of you, the essence that makes you what you are. It’s agony, and you never get over it.”
His face was sheet white. “Will I—remember? What I was?”
“None of it.” She wanted to hate him—for forcing her to tell Simon, for having to confront the part of herself she never thought to touch again. But she couldn’t, simply because she understood his desperate need, and the anguish of being trapped by the consequence of his actions.
“How do I know?” His voice filtered through the wave of grief trying to drown her. “How do I know you can do this?”
“Give me your hand.” She held on to him with both hands, knowing he would recoil the moment he felt—all of her, pressed his palm over the scar between her ribs, and let go of her control on the fractured wall in front of her power.
They both gasped, dropping to their knees as his pure, blinding white light tangled with her shattered power. Agony drove through her, more excruciating than the moment she was ripped from Heaven, or banished from Hell.
Zach wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her in. Inch by in
ch, his soothing power crept in until it surrounded them. A different kind of pain enveloped Claire—the pain of remembering what she had been, before pride tore it from her.
“You are of the first.” His whisper brushed over her, awe and reverence like a balm. “You are of the fallen. I am not—”
“You are more than worthy.” She let go of his wrist, cradled the back of his head. It took all the courage she had left to meet his eyes. “You are precious, Zach—they have no idea, because they don’t understand what it is to feel, to care, to think for themselves. And you are more valuable, closer to human, because you do understand.”
She freed him, got to her feet, every inch aching from holding in the grief. “I will do this for you, because I understand what it is to be trapped, to face eternity alone and desperate. Look at me.” When he did, the anguish in his eyes clinched her decision. “I will help you.”
Hope flared through the anguish, fisted her heart. “Even after all I forced you to endure?”
“Not the best method, but I understand the reasons behind your actions. I just need you to do one thing for me. Unlock the doors, let Simon go.”
He closed his eyes, and the doors unlocked, one by one, slower than last time. His power was fading. “I am ready.”
She took his hand, his skin colder under her fingers. “If you want to fall, to experience all the pain and pettiness of being human, then I’m your girl. Now,” she tightened her grip on his hand. “I have a binding spell to break.”
FIFTEEN
“Is that Simon?” Annie pushed herself up, gripping the backseat when her hip screamed in protest. “What the hell—”
“Annie.” Eric kept her from standing, so she shouted at Simon.
“Where’s Claire?” Simon kept his head down, walking across the lawn. A sling supported his right arm—a sling she knew damn well Claire made for him. “Simon! Damn it—help me up, Eric.”
With a sigh, he pulled her out of the car, hovering in case she toppled. Using the length of the car as a crutch, she managed to reach Simon as he hit the sidewalk. He glanced up at her—and she felt the slap of his rage, his grief. Her sapphire sparked with it.
“Simon—”
“Don’t touch me.”
“Did you leave Claire alone in there?” Too angry to care about his reaction, she grabbed his good arm. He turned on her so fast she fell back against the car.
“I said don’t touch me. And you stay the hell out of this,” he said to Eric as he sprinted forward. “Don’t contact me. Ever.”
“Simon!”
“Leave him alone, Annie.”
“Like hell—Simon! Turn around and face me when I’m shouting at you.” He stopped, his shoulders stiff. “Tell me what happened—why did you leave Claire alone with that bastard—”
He spun, trapping her against the car. “She’s a demon, Annie.” His voice was so vicious her heart lurched.
“She told you.” Anger shoved down her fear. “And what did you say to her?”
“Nothing.”
“You just walked out, didn’t you? Son of a bitch—why didn’t you just stab her in the heart while you were at it? It would have done the same damage—”
“She’s not human—”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He blinked, stepping back. “She’s more human than most people you’ll meet. She walked into a gate to Hell to save us, Simon, knowing her death waited on the other side. And if you insist on judging her because her soul is shiny new, then you can—damn it, you can go to hell.”
She took in a breath, so angry she was shaking.
“Annie—”
“You reject her, you reject me. Eric, I need you to help me back to the house—”
“No.” Simon moved in front of her. “You’re not—like her. You were born with a soul—”
“And I’m a witch. Some people would consider me less than human. And what about you, with your freak gift? How often were you given grief over that?”
He ran one hand over his hair. “I didn’t mean—”
“None of us are perfect—some are so far from it they almost don’t qualify as human. But that woman in there, she is the most human non-human I have ever known. You want to know how I found out about Claire?” She pushed off the car, ignoring the protest from her hip. “Her demon-possessed cousin gleefully outed her, after luring Claire by kidnapping me, cutting off my earlobe and threatening my life if Claire didn’t show up and quietly walk into Hell. And if you feel like shit right about now, my job is done.”
“Damn it, Annie.” He grabbed her arm. “She blindsided me in there. I knew she had some dark secret, but this—I can’t, I’m sorry, but I can’t handle it.”
Letting her go, he walked away.
“Simon—ouch, ow ow—” Eric caught her when her left side decided to go on strike. “Don’t let him go—”
“We can’t force him to accept it. Hey,” he shook her, gently, just enough to get her attention. “You know how much of a shock it is. Give him time—” He cut himself off, looked over at the house. “Well, speak of the devil.”
“Claire.” Annie punched his arm, not so gently. “That was not funny. Claire!” She nodded to them, and kept moving, helping Zach off the porch and on to the lawn, heading away from them. “Where’s she going?”
“She’s going to help him fall.” Simon stood next to her. “It’s the reason he trapped you all in there. So he could be free.”
Annie raised her eyebrows. “And you believe this?”
“I am a priest, Annie. Angels are creatures of heaven, something we are supposed to aspire to. They shouldn’t want to become us.”
He stalked across the lawn, following after Claire.
“Get me over there.”
Eric picked her up. “Your wish, blondie. One rule, though.” He headed up the sloped lawn. “No fistfights.”
“No promises, handsome.” She smiled when he glanced at her. “But I’ll do my best.”
*
Easing Zach to the grass, Claire wiped her face. Blood mixed with the sweat on her fingers; she cleaned them on her trousers, ignored the pain from Zach’s assault. The wind was picking up, and it felt good on her overheated skin. She tucked her hair behind her ears, focusing on Zach even as she heard her friends approaching behind her.
“You’re certain? Once we start, there is no turning back from it.”
He looked at her, his eyes stark against the pallor of his face. “I have wanted this a long time, Claire. How do we start?”
“I need you to wear this for me.” She pulled off her amethyst, slipped it around his neck. “It will help protect you.”
“I cannot—”
“Think of it as a homing device. I am connected to it, and I need a way to track you. Now give me your hand.” She linked their fingers together, his skin like ice now. She had to move fast. “There are conditions, rules you absolutely can’t break. Number one being this—if you kill, you are condemned to Hell. No reprieve, no chance to explain. Do you understand?”
“Basically, I am to live an exemplary life, or suffer for wanting to be mortal.”
“Welcome to the human race.”
A smile softened the fear radiating from him. “I look forward to it.”
“All right.” She freed his hand and stood. “Lie down, on your back, and keep from touching anything but the ground.”
He obeyed, his power a nimbus of white against the lush green. Behind her, Annie gasped, and Claire understood why. Zach’s wings were visible. Tucked up behind his shoulder blades, they stretched several feet above his head, wind ruffling the pristine feathers.
For the first time since being separated in the house, she faced Annie. Her friend reached one hand toward Claire’s face. “Oh, honey.”
“I’ll be fine. I appreciate your support, but you are going to have to offer it from more of a distance . . .” Her voice faltered when she saw Simon standing a few feet away. He cradled his right arm, everything about him
—unreadable. Pulling her gaze away from him, she smiled up at Eric. “Thank you for taking care of them. Where are Regina and Hillary?”
“Theresa took them into town,” he said. “Regina muttered something about a hotel, and not coming back here again.”
“I hope she changes her mind. Step back now. Whoa—” She let out a surprised laugh as Annie lurched forward and smothered her in a hug. “I’ll be fine. We all will.” Leaning back, she met the warm brown eyes. Tears shimmered, slipped down Annie’s face when she blinked. Claire gathered her in. “Hush—it will be all right. I promise you.”
“This isn’t dangerous?”
“Depends on your definition.”
“Okay.” Annie pulled away and wiped her face, a fierce smile widening her mouth. “Is this going to get you dead?”
“Not if I do it right.” She stood on tiptoe, kissed Eric’s cheek. “Go on—I don’t want you all caught in any blowback.”
Her gaze met Simon’s; he had moved until he stood behind Eric. She ducked her head and faced Zach, taking the coward’s way rather than see the revulsion in those clear green eyes.
“Zach.” He looked up at her, sheet white and sweating. “Just hold on, a few minutes longer. Can you do that?” He nodded, his hands trembling against the grass. “Good.” She let out a shaky breath, knelt beside him. “Let’s get started.”
Pressing both hands against her scar, she closed her eyes. Wind swirled around her, lifting her hair, wicking away the sweat beading on her skin. Under her hands, her power beat, keeping time with her heart. Power she had not touched since she was cast out of Heaven, that she once thought she lost to the dark, consuming need of the demon.
She let out her breath.
And set it free.
SIXTEEN
Simon took a step back when Claire started to glow.
Her quiet voice carried on the wind, whispering an ancient version of Latin he hadn’t heard since his time in Vatican City. His mind translated as he listened, as he watched, mesmerized.
