by Cate Dean
Kneeling, she pulled out her portable file box, set it on the counter and rifled through her various signs for the “Closed Until Further Notice” sign. She had it printed, along with the standard signs, hoping she would never need to use it.
But this time, once she walked out that back door, she didn’t expect to return.
Slipping the sign in front of her sliding Open/Closed sign, she took a final look through the front window. Another thing Annie fixed for her, calling to have it replaced while Claire recovered from Eric’s attack.
Trees swayed in the rising wind, their dark leaves fluttering, the late morning sun highlighting their rich color. Claire loved this street, had since the moment she rounded the corner off Beach and saw it for the first time, lined with trees and filled with people enjoying the sun and the eclectic mix of shops.
Rubbing one hand over her heart, she turned away, touching items as she made her way back to the counter. She tried Annie’s cell phone again, worry licking at her when it went straight to voicemail. On impulse, she scrolled through her contacts and found Eric’s number, stored there just in case. She connected, and it started to ring.
She was ready to disconnect when Eric answered.
“Claire? I didn’t expect to hear from you—”
“Is Annie with you?”
His silence notched the worry up to panic.
“I dropped her off just after dawn. I’m at the airport, and finally about to board my plane. She’s not home?”
Claire took a deep breath.
“Her phone keeps going to voicemail.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Eric—you don’t have to—”
“I care about her, Claire. Don’t make plans without me.”
Before she could argue he disconnected.
She decided to head over to Annie’s apartment; she should have checked there first before she started calling and sending other people into an unnecessary panic. Heading for the back door, she dug the keys to her rental car out of her jacket pocket. And halted when she saw Marcus standing outside the door.
With a sigh, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Were you planning on facing her again?” Marcus used his height and his anger to back her into the shop.
“Stop it—Marcus, stop.” She slapped both hands against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere. Annie may be missing.”
He caught her hands before she could pull away.
“Tell me how I can help.”
Tears stung her eyes. She forced them back, met his gaze. “I was just on my way to her place. She went to help Eric pack, and I think something happened between them.” She tapped his chest with her fingers when anger flared in his eyes. “Something good, so stop plotting his death.” A smile tugged at his mouth, and the anger retreated. “She is not answering her phone, and I wanted to make sure she isn’t just sleeping off a late night before I really start to panic.”
“My car is out back.”
Claire followed him out, and grabbed the door latch just as the shop phone rang.
“That could be her.” Claire ran through the shop, snatched the phone off the counter. “Annie—”
“So sorry to disappoint.” Claire stilled at Natasha’s voice, clutching the phone. “But she is close, very close. And you can save her.”
“I want to talk to her.”
“Proof of life. Sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now, but she can yell.”
Claire heard shuffling, silence—and Annie’s voice burst out.
“Don’t do it, Claire! I’m not worth—”
Claire sank to her knees when a raw scream cut Annie off. Marcus knelt beside her, and she leaned against him, thankful she wasn’t alone.
“She is quite a spitfire, your Annie.” Claire closed her eyes. “She left you a gift. Check your front stoop. I will call back with instructions.”
The call cut off, the dial tone buzzing in her ear before she dropped it. Marcus caught the handset, laid it on the rug, then turned her to face him.
“Talk to me.”
“Let go—I have to—let go—”
She yanked out of his grip and pushed to her feet, running for the front door. With a shaky breath, she flipped the deadbolt and opened the door.
A small box sat on the mat. Claire reached for it, her fingers shaking. Pain radiated from the box, along with Annie’s energy. Claire swallowed, braced herself, and snatched up the box. That pain shot up her arm. She closed her free hand around her amethyst and threw up a barrier. The pain broke against it.
It took three tries to pull the lid off the wooden box—and she almost dropped it when she saw what lay inside.
Marcus cupped her hand, steadied her with his other arm. Claire leaned against him, fought the panic, the fury that pushed up behind it.
“It’s Annie’s favorite earring,” she whispered. And Annie’s small earlobe was still attached to it. “Oh, God—”
“Breathe, Claire.” Marcus pulled her inside, then reached around and shut the door. “She is alive right now. Think of that, hold on to that.”
“Right.” She took in a breath, clutching the box. “Natasha won’t hurt her—not until I’m in her sights. You have to get her out of there, Marcus.” Turning in his arms, she looked up at him. “Promise me.”
“We will all—”
The front door burst open. Eric stalked in, looking like an avenging angel.
“Where the hell is she?”
*
It took all Eric’s control to rein in the fury, the panic.
He wanted to lash out at Claire—Annie wouldn’t be in danger if she wasn’t friends with this witch—
But the anguish on Claire’s face stopped him. She cared about Annie, and he knew the feelings were mutual.
“What happened?”
Swallowing, Claire held out the box in her hand.
Eric stared at the bloody earring. The same earring he watched Annie slip on this morning—
I will fucking kill her, whatever she is—
“No, Eric,” Claire said. His head snapped up. “We are going to get Annie out, and I will deal with Natasha. No.” She slapped at Marcus and stepped away from both of them. “You have no idea what she’s capable of, how little she cares about anyone but herself. We agree, here and now, or you are out of it.”
“Claire,” Marcus said, his voice quiet and almost—hypnotic. Eric shook his head. “You cannot—”
“Don’t you dare use your hocus pocus on me.” He had never seen a woman so furious. She may have been tiny, but she radiated such power Eric believed at that moment she could take them both on. And win, hands down. “She already has the most important person in my life—I will not give her the chance to—”
The ringing phone cut her off. Eric watched her face go sheet white—then she sprinted around the counter and disappeared.
Both he and Marcus followed her, found her kneeling on the rug, phone clutched in both hands. She listened, eyes closed, then spoke a single word.
“Yes.”
Carefully, she disconnected, set the phone on the rug next to her, and stood. Head down, she moved past Marcus, past Eric—then took off at a run, headed for the back door.
Marcus went after her. Eric followed on his heels, joined the intimidation when he caught up with them just outside the back door. Marcus had her trapped against the wall, and she vibrated with rage.
“—me go now, or she will hurt Annie.”
“Not alone.” Marcus leaned in. “All of us or not at all.”
Eric waited for her to punch Marcus. Instead she took in a deep breath and nodded.
“Fine,” she said. “Now get the hell out of my way. We are wasting time.”
Marcus dragged her to his car, a sleek, black four door Jaguar. “I drive, you give directions.” He smiled when she glared at him, then glanced over his shoulder at Eric. “Coming?
Eric answered by sprinting to the Jag.
FOURTEEN
Annie closed her eyes, gave up trying to free herself from the ropes that bound her wrists behind her. Her skin was already raw and angry from the struggle, and she could feel blood trickle down her hands.
Natasha stashed her somewhere big and empty, and it smelled like it had been empty for a long time. No chance of anyone stumbling across her.
Annie shifted, chilled by the cold slab of concrete she had been dumped on. She was attached to a steel pillar, which meant she was stuck. Sunlight filtered in from the dirt-streaked window on her left side, splashing over her legs. Its meager warmth did nothing to take the edge off. The bitter cold woke her earlier, seeping through her jeans, just in time to hear Natasha’s phone call to Claire.
Anytime—they’ll be here anytime now.
She used the words as a mantra, repeating them in her head, listening, waiting for any sound that meant rescue. The focus helped keep her mind off the cold, and the raw pain in her ear.
She still didn’t believe Natasha had cut her earlobe off. If it didn’t throb like a bad tooth, she’d chalk it up as a side effect of the concussion she was sure she had.
And Eric—he’d be halfway home by now, ignorant of her abduction. Part of her was glad; he wouldn’t be involved, which meant he wouldn’t be in danger again. Natasha screwed up his life enough already. Now the woman was after Claire, and it burned Annie that she was the dangling bait.
“Stupid—how could you be so stupid—” No—beating herself up out loud didn’t help.
She would just find a way to help when the time came. Claire would not suffer for her mistake.
With renewed determination, she started working on the ropes again, ignoring the fresh burst of pain. If she could just—
“Hello, Annie.” The silky voice froze her. Natasha knelt beside her, reached down and brushed sweat matted curls off her forehead. It took every ounce of control not to recoil. Annie had a feeling the response to that would be painful. “I trust your nap was refreshing. Not that it matters, but I do enjoy playing polite.” The smile sent chills racing down her spine. “We are going on a little field trip. How does that sound?”
“Boring,” Annie said before she could stop herself. Anger snapped in Natasha’s dark green eyes. Swallowing, Annie kept going, hoping the anger would work in her favor. In for a penny— “I always hated field trips—nothing worse than riding on a stinky bus with a bunch of—”
Natasha backhanded her. Annie’s head bounced off the pillar. Moaning, she tried to decide which hurt more—her cheek or her head. Then Natasha yanked her forward and her entire body won as every muscle tried to cramp at the same time.
Annie let out a harsh gasp, and Natasha slapped her again.
“Make another sound, and you will lose talking privileges. For good. Do you understand?”
Annie nodded, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. For a second—one long, endless second—she saw a hideous face flash across Natasha’s. A face that wasn’t human.
*
Marcus screamed into the deserted parking lot, and Claire had the door open before he finished stopping.
She ran to the warehouse—another warehouse—and reached for the door handle. Marcus caught her hand just before she touched it.
“This is a trap—”
“You think I don’t know that? I’ve had to deal with the backlash of her nasty little games for years. I know her M.O.—and I will not let it stop me from getting to Annie—”
“Think, woman.” Marcus gripped both shoulders. If he shook her she swore she would smack him. “Let us find out exactly where she is before we go running to her rescue. Or we may be the cause of injury.”
“You’re right.” Claire rubbed her face. Heaven above, she was tired. “You can let me go, and tell me what you already have in mind.”
“We go in low, quiet, and fast. Eric.” He stepped up, fists clenched, his jaw working. “You will cover the back door. No argument—I do not need your temper involved at this point.”
“Any more insults before I leave?”
Marcus raised one eyebrow. “They will wait.”
That pulled the hint of a smile from Eric. “See you inside.”
He took off, checking the side of the building before he slipped around the corner. Marcus looked down at her. “Ready?”
Claire took in a breath. “If she’s hurt—”
“We will deal with it. Go.”
She opened the door just enough to slip through and crouched against the wall, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Her heart skipped when she saw the figure, tied to a pillar at the other end of the wide space. Just like before.
Squashing the desire to run flat out across the warehouse, Claire skirted the edge, caught sight of Marcus doing the same on the opposite wall, his black clothes the perfect camouflage. She sprinted once she got directly across from Annie.
Blood puddled the concrete around her, matted the blonde curls.
“No—” Claire dropped to the floor, reached out, her hand shaking. She gripped Annie’s chin and eased her head up. Her heart stopped, then burst back into life when she realized it wasn’t Annie. Her blood-slicked fingers searched for a pulse, knowing already there would be none. Cold surrounded the young woman, edged with the violence of her death. “Another one you will pay for, Natasha,” she whispered, gently closing the wide blue eyes. Another one to add to my list of blame.
“Gods.” Marcus knelt beside her, brushed long fingers over the blonde curls. “We will not let her death be in vain.”
“If this isn’t Annie,” Eric’s voice turned them around, “then where the hell is she?”
Claire pushed to her feet, faced the rage pouring off him.
“I don’t know. I won’t stop until I find her, Eric. I love her as well.”
He blinked, obviously startled by her words. “Claire—”
“I need to think.” She slapped away Marcus’ hand and all but ran across the warehouse, shutting herself in the glassed-in office that took up one corner of the open ground floor.
Once out of sight, she sank to the floor and let the despair in. Afternoon sunlight streaked the floor, a reminder that time was running out for Annie. And Claire had no way to find her.
Ignoring the ache in her leg, she drew it up with the other and lowered her forehead to her knees. There was no way to track Annie, not with her power running close to empty. And Natasha would have her cloaked, just in case Claire was desperate enough to—
Her new cell phone rang, the default ringtone harsh and jangling.
She fumbled it out of her jacket pocket, looked at the display, recognized the number. It was Annie’s cell.
Taking in a deep breath, she answered.
“Annie better be alive, Natasha.”
“Claire—not even a hello before the demand?”
Natasha’s voice made her skin crawl. She heard the beast behind it, the demon who used her cousin like a suit, slowly burning her out from the inside. It was what they all did, when they found themselves banished to this plane, this earth.
Closing her eyes, Claire asked the question she knew Natasha waited to hear.
“What do you want?”
“Now we come to it.” Natasha let out a sigh. “Your Annie is alive, and will stay in that condition. I only ask one thing from you, darling Claire. That you come to me, in your true form. No more hiding—it is time to go home.”
Gripping the phone, Claire let out her breath.
“I’ll be there.”
“I will know if you try to fool me. And Annie will pay—”
“No tricks. Now tell me where.”
“The cliffs, near the main beach. Do you know—”
“I know it. I need an hour.”
“You shall have it. Cousin.”
The call disconnected. Claire stared at the wall, heart pounding, every moment from this one bringing her closer to the end. She had been expecting it for a long time, surprised as each decade went by that she stil
l remained undiscovered, unmolested. Safe.
She could not have chosen a better reason for her sacrifice. It would save her best friend.
Dropping the phone, she stood, and turned to find both men staring at her through the glass. She moved forward, unlocked the door, opened it, and looked at each of them.
“I’m going to need your help.”
*
Claire kept her gaze on Marcus while she explained, without actually using the words that would make it crystal clear to Eric. She wanted to delay the moment she would see the revulsion in his face for as long as she could.
“We only have an hour, and that includes travel time to the cliffs, so we need to get started. I don’t know how long this will—”
“You cannot do this, Claire.” Marcus grabbed her arm, started to pull her aside for what she knew would be a persuasive argument.
“It is already done. I just need you to help me—I need you to—” Unable to continue, she met his eyes, relieved that she saw only anger there. “I can’t touch what I need to use to break the ward, and I will need time—to adjust when you release—”
“Stop.” He cradled her face, let out a sigh. “Whatever you need. How long has it been?”
“Eighty years.”
“Gods.” He scrubbed at his face. “How strong were you?”
“I was what you would call a first lieutenant, before I was banished. I answered to only two, and my master was one of them.”
“Who, Claire.”
She swallowed, braced herself, and whispered the name.
“Azazel.”
It hung in the air, as if the name itself had weight, substance. She knew saying it pushed at the door that Natasha cracked open, but Marcus had the right to know what he was up against.
“Were you one of the fallen?” She closed her eyes briefly, nodded. “You must be at the top of the most hunted list.”
She let out a harsh laugh. “At the very least.”