A Gathering of Angels - The Claire Wiche Chronicles Book 2

by Dean, Cate

  “What?”

  Laughing, Lea touched Mindy Kay’s arm. “I’ll explain later. You came home early.”

  “I escaped one battle, only to end up in another one. If I hadn’t run into—” She cut herself off, glancing at the front of the van. “Let’s just say I would have been right next to you in that cell, Lea. We’ll have to lay low—the chief’s got patrols crawling over the town, looking for evil. That would be anyone who doesn’t agree with him.”

  Claire struggled to sit; knowing it was pointless to argue, Marcus slipped one arm around her waist. With a smile, she turned to face Mindy Kay. “Thank you for helping us.” Mindy Kay dipped her head, red hair brushing her shoulders. “I know what a risk you’re taking, putting a bulls-eye on yourself like—”

  “Everybody down!” The driver shouted as the van swerved, brakes squealing. Above it Marcus heard the first gunshot.

  *

  Annie punched the end button on the phone, letting her anger at Eric override the ratcheting fear. Marcus’ phone still went straight to voicemail. He was fanatic about answering it, considered voicemail offensive and rude.

  “Annie—”

  “Not yet.” She reined in the need to lash out at him, remembering what happened the last time she let her temper go. The image of Marcus, and the blood staining his chest, still haunted her. “I need—damn it.” She turned on him, grabbed the front of his shirt. “I want to ignore you until I’m over this, but we don’t have the time. Marcus isn’t answering his phone.”

  Eric let out a breath. “He always—”

  “Exactly. Where the hell is the car?”

  Carefully, he pulled her fingers off his shirt. “On the other side of the aviation office. You can wait for me there. I want to thank Jeff for going out of his way to bring us up here.”

  With that one sentence he managed to make her feel small and petty.

  Annie caught up with him as he headed for the hangar, hands in her pockets to keep from touching him. Neither of them was ready yet—not without major bouts of yelling and the big chance of flying objects, aimed mainly at Eric’s thick head.

  She stood to one side, uncomfortable, as he thanked Jeff. Until Jeff stepped over to her, took both her hands, and leaned in to whisper against her cheek.

  “Thank you.” She jerked back, met his eyes. Clear, ice blue eyes that held no fear, no condemnation for what she was—only the gratitude that warmed his voice. “He told me because he’s damn proud of you. Now that I’ve met you, I understand his constant need to talk about you.”

  Heat crept over her cheeks, embarrassing her more. “I’m sorry about what happened before—I didn’t expect a ring to amplify my power like that.”

  “From what I read,” he smiled at the surprise on her face. “Yeah, I read up on witches after I learned about you. I wanted ammunition to talk him out of his obsession. It didn’t work. Now I’m glad for that. You’re good for him, Annie—and believe me, I never expected to say that about someone I thought put a spell on him when he was down for the count.”

  She stiffened, tried to pull out of his grasp. “I’d never—”

  Jeff merely tightened his grip. “I know that. Now. You take care of each other—he’ll always miss his sister, but you’ll help fill that hole in his heart. Hell, you already started. Now get—find your friend, kick some ass. I’m going to hunt down a nice big steak.”

  Annie leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. For believing in Eric—for doing this for him. You’re a good man, even if you did want to shove me out of his life.”

  His laughter echoed through the hangar. “He’s just lucky I didn’t meet you first.” Letting her go, he stepped to Eric. “You need anything, you call. And watch your back.” Jeff dug in his back pack, and Annie’s heart skipped when he pulled out a small pistol. “It’s close enough to the one I taught you to shoot with, but take a minute to check it out before you have to use it.”

  “Eric—”

  “Just a precaution,” Jeff said. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to be identifying either one of you at the local morgue. Now get out of here, before I do something disgusting, like hug Eric.”

  “I’ll take it then.” Annie wrapped her arms around him before he had a chance to retreat. “Have a safe trip.”

  “From your lips, darlin’.” Before she saw it coming he dipped her, then kissed her. Gently, but with enough heat it left her lips humming. He set her on her feet and, whistling, he strode out of the hangar. “Hey, sweetheart.” A tall, stunning redhead in a blue uniform turned at his voice, eyebrows raised. “Know anywhere a starving man can get a decent meal?”

  “Come on.” Annie turned at Eric’s voice. “Jeff is well on his way to dinner and—dessert.”

  She shook her head. “Are all of you so obvious?”

  “No.” She let out a squeak when he pulled her in, one arm trapping her. “Some of us call it love.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry, blondie.”

  “Damn.” Tears burned her eyes. She laid her head on his shoulder, let out a shaky breath. “I really wanted to stay mad at you, at least long enough for an apology gift.”

  Eric rubbed her back, then took her hand and led her out of the hangar.

  “Let’s go find Marcus—then you can pick it out yourself.”

  *

  Claire let out a pained gasp as Marcus shoved her to the floor of the van.

  Gunshots roared through the night air. Window glass shattered, raining on them as the driver spun the van, trying to escape the ambush. Claire slammed against the wall when the van skidded to a halt. Her breath froze in her throat at the voice that shouted above the rumbling engine. The chief—who should still be lying senseless on the floor of the police station.

  “I only want the witches! You are free to go, if you simply turn them over to me.”

  Marcus crawled over to one of the small windows, careful of the jagged glass. With a curse he backed away from the window—and the long barrel of a rifle followed him.

  “You heard the chief.” A bearded face appeared behind the rifle. Claire flinched at the darkness that coiled around him, caressing his face, his hands, the trigger of the rifle. Cold iced the glass on the floor of the van. “Hand ‘em over, you all can go.”

  Marcus kept himself between her and the rifle. “I am afraid we can’t do that.”

  Rage flashed across the man’s face. Claire braced herself for the blast of the rifle. He trembled, obviously fighting whatever controlled him.

  “You gotta do it. She don’t take no, ever.”

  She. Claire knew then the part of him that resisted understood the chief was no longer the chief. Maybe we can get through to that part—

  “Step away, Andersen!” The chief’s command destroyed that option before she could finish forming it. “I only want the condemned. But I will take all of you if you do not release them to me. Immediately.”

  Mindy Kay joined Marcus in front of them, making herself a target. “We’re surrounded,” she whispered. “And the driver doesn’t want to hurt any of the townspeople—”

  “He may not have the option.” Marcus turned his head, and Claire saw the sweat sliding down his jaw. The revolver in his hand was steady. She figured he knew how to use it. “Move them to the front of the van.”

  Claire’s heart jumped. “Marcus—”

  “No argument. I am going to provide enough of a distraction for us to escape.” He looked at Mindy Kay. “Tell your mysterious driver to make himself ready. It will be a small window.”

  Kneeling, he pulled the door latch up, and slid the side door open.

  “Good evening, chief. Remember me?”

  The high-pitched scream barely sounded human. Marcus fired one shot and rolled across the floor. “GO!”

  The van lurched forward. Gunfire exploded behind them—through the open door Claire saw just how many victims the chief had under his control. She clutched the floor when the van swerved, smacking the wall when i
t veered the other direction.

  Before she could tumble again Marcus fell on top of her, using his body as a shield. The van slid sideways, and she held her breath, waiting for it to roll. Marcus let out a harsh breath and curled around her, pinning her in place.

  The shouts faded as they bounced down the road. Every single bruise and cut Claire had acquired flared back to life. She twisted her fingers into the front of Marcus’ shirt, bit down on the scream in her throat.

  An eternity passed before they finally shuddered to a stop, and the engine died.

  Marcus relaxed against her, his weight pressing her into the ridged floor. She reached up, shocked by the sweat that slicked his face, matted his hair.

  “Marcus—” Something warm and hot dripped on her hand. “Heaven above—Mindy Kay, help me.”

  They eased Marcus on to his back; when his left arm touched the floor he recoiled, let out a raw cry.

  “Please, Claire,” he whispered, jerking away when she reached for him. The movement had him gasping for breath. “There is naught you can do—”

  “Hold still, Marcus.”

  Claire searched the ceiling, found the overhead light. It snapped on, highlighting the sweat soaked shirt, the pain on his face, the blood darkening his upper arm.

  He had been shot.

  NINE

  Using the rental’s GPS, Eric got them to Huntsville, pulling into the gravel parking lot of the police station just after ten pm. It looked deserted.

  Annie pushed the door open, but before she could get out, Eric gripped her arm.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Pausing, she listened. And heard nothing but the sound of nature—crickets, rustling in the bushes, the crackle of animal feet on dried leaves. She hated nature. Another reason she knew she’d be thrown out of any coven.

  Not that she wanted to be part of one, but the whole love of Mother Nature, and running naked through wild forests made her shudder. And now she was throwing the mundane’s clichés at her own kind. Claire never ran naked through a forest. But then, Claire wasn’t really a witch.

  Annie shut that thought down before it started tearing at her again.

  “What did you hear?”

  “I thought—never mind. Let’s get this done.”

  They stepped inside the station, and found no one. Closer inspection revealed small pools of blood; not enough to be life threatening, but add in the smashed chair, the signs of a struggle, and Annie expected to trip over a body at any second. She just hoped it wouldn’t be Marcus. Or—

  Don’t go there. You can’t—she’s gone, no matter what the dreams imply.

  Rubbing at her face, suddenly exhausted, Annie sat in the nearest chair. Eric came back from the other room. “There are cells back there, and more blood. Looks like we missed the party.”

  “How the hell are we supposed to find him now?”

  He crouched next to her, took her hand. “Let’s do another search, and take it from there.”

  With a sigh, she nodded. “I’ll start looking through . . .” Her voice faded when she touched the black three-hole punch on the desk. An echo of power clung to it—familiar power, that shouldn’t be there. Couldn’t be there—

  “Annie?”

  “She was here—”

  “Who?” Eric caught her arm when she pushed past him. “Talk to me.”

  “Give me a minute—I have to be sure.”

  She headed into the back room, drawn to the first cell. Blood smeared the denim blue blanket—not enough to endanger, but it was more than a simple cut. Hand shaking, Annie reached for the blanket. And snatched her hand away when the same energy brushed against her fingertips. Energy she had never been able to feel before. This time hate smacked her, laid over the innate goodness like an ugly stain.

  She clutched the bars, and was assaulted again. Stumbling out of the cell, she caught the edge of the desk, her head rebelling against what her heart already accepted. She nearly screamed when Eric touched her shoulder.

  “Annie—”

  “It was Claire,” she whispered. Turning, she met the disbelief in his eyes, understood completely. “I don’t want to believe, but she’s everywhere. Her blood is in the cell, and her energy—oh, God.”

  She covered her face, grief and hope beating at her. Eric pulled her into his arms and she held on, his presence stable. Real. She pressed her face into his shoulder, the words she couldn’t say running through her mind.

  Claire is alive.

  *

  Heat poured off Marcus—and Claire snatched her hand away when she realized what he meant to do.

  “Keep back.” She caught Mind Kay’s wrist. “He is going to heal himself.”

  Marcus pushed himself up and hunched over his left arm. His figure blurred as smoke curled through him, surrounded him. The cyclone of sand and wind burst free, raw and barely controlled. The force yanked his hair out of its confinement, tossing it around the sharp-edged features.

  Claire watched, fingers twisting into the hem of her sweatshirt. It was different this time—he shook inside the cyclone, the light of his soul cracked, and fading. The healing seemed to be causing him pain instead of easing it—

  With a raw, anguished cry he collapsed. The storm of his power blew out, pelting them with sand before it disappeared. Claire lowered her arm and crawled over to him.

  “Marcus—”

  “Forgive me, Claire—I failed—”

  “You saved our lives. Now stop the self-flagellation and tell me what to do.”

  “There is—nothing.” He opened his eyes. Green swallowed the gold, and the pain in their depths stunned her. “You must leave me.”

  “Like hell.” She leaned over him and whispered. “I’m not going anywhere without you. Not again.”

  With Mindy Kay’s help, Claire got him to the open door of the van—and nearly fell out of it when she recognized their mystery driver. “Simon—”

  “Let me, Claire.” He pulled Marcus to his feet, at eye level with the six foot plus Jinn. Muscles bunched under his shirt as he kept Marcus upright, half-carrying him to the cabin all but hidden in a ring of pine and oak trees.

  Lea took her arm. “How are you?”

  “Scared. You?”

  “Yeah.” She slipped one arm around Claire’s waist. “Lean on me. I know you’re exhausted.”

  “You can see that?”

  “Like a neon sign. Will Marcus be okay?”

  Claire closed her eyes briefly. “I hope so, Lea. I may need your help.”

  “Whatever I can do.”

  They walked to the cabin, Lea helping her up the steps. Every injury, old and recent, ached by the time she made her way through the main room and into the bedroom.

  Simon had stripped off the bloody shirt before he left them alone, giving her a clear view of the damage. Marcus opened his eyes, caught her wrist before she could touch him.

  “You can do nothing for it, Claire.”

  “There has to be—”

  “Metal is—poison to a Jinn.” He swallowed, pain tightening the lines of his face. “It is too late—”

  “As long as you’re breathing, it’s not too late.” She eased out of his grip, laid one hand on his forearm, flinching at his raw gasp. “I’m going to get this bullet out, then we will go from there.”

  His whisper stopped her. “It has already crippled my power.”

  She leaned over him. “I won’t give up on you. Do you understand?” He closed his eyes, tears sliding back into his hair. Her throat ached with the need to cry, to scream. Instead she kissed his forehead, startled by the feverish skin under her lips. “You hang on, Marcus.”

  She limped out of the bedroom, closed the door—and sagged against the wall, letting the fear take over, just for a moment.

  “Claire.” Simon moved to her side, those clear green eyes studying her. “You knew about him, that he’s a Jinn.”

  How he knew was a question she would have to save for later. “Since the moment we me
t. I had dealings with one before. Marcus is more—trustworthy than the last Jinn I encountered.”

  “What can we do?”

  “I’ve never had to care for a Jinn, not like this. I don’t—” She closed her eyes. “He’s dying, Simon, and I don’t know if I can save him.”

  “You’re not alone.” He moved in, framed her face with strong, calloused hands. “Do you hear? Tell us what to do for you, for him.”

  She took in a shaky breath, met his eyes. “We need to get the bullet out—it’s like poison to his system. Then we have to find a way to draw out what is already causing damage.” She closed her fingers over Simon’s wrist. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I saw this happen once. I won’t stand by and let it happen again.” He let her go before she could form a question, gestured to Mindy Kay. “I have a med kit in the van.”

  “Got it.” She strode to the front door, stopping to glance through the narrow sidelight before heading outside.

  “Lea—”

  “I’ll sit with him, see what I can see.” She paused by Claire, kissed her cheek. “We’ll take care of him.”

  Swallowing, Claire nodded, then closed her eyes, feeling the tears slide down her face.

  “Take a minute.” Simon’s low, quiet voice opened her eyes.

  “You’re going to be explaining that last statement before the night’s over.”

  “I know it.” He held out his hand. “We deal with one crisis at a time. Marcus first, then my history with the damn witch.”

  Claire studied him, and leaned in to whisper when Mindy Kay returned with a familiar medical kit.

  “I look forward to it.”

  *

  Annie let Eric guide her out of the police station. Still rocked by what she’d felt, she tried to put logic on the impossible. It wouldn’t fit. She was probably hallucinating about Claire being here, wanting her dreams to be true, and not just dreams.

  Cold air slapped her as they stepped outside, and she realized just how frantic and crazy she’d been in there. Touching her cheeks reinforced it; the skin under her fingers was hot, and she knew if she looked in a mirror she would see a deep flush.