A Gathering of Angels - The Claire Wiche Chronicles Book 2

by Dean, Cate

  He despised ghosts—their simple presence hit any Jinn with a backwash of heat. A ghost who had power in life could become a real menace.

  Footsteps pounded across the wood floor. Marcus pulled his legs up, not trusting an object the witch could turn back on him. When the first uniform clad leg appeared he kicked out.

  A high-pitched scream bounced off the walls. The man collapsed, the gun that was in his hand skittering across the floor. Marcus lunged before he could recover, leading with his fist. The man’s head snapped back, and he crumpled. His badge caught the fluorescent light, confirmed Marcus’ suspicion. The chief.

  Using the desk, he got to his feet, his back feeling scorched—and froze when he heard the distinctive click of a revolver being cocked.

  “Hands up.” He closed his eyes briefly. He’d forgotten about the lanky female cop. “Now turn around. Slow.”

  Obeying, he faced her. The heavy revolver in her hands shook. “All I want is to take my wife and—”

  “She’s not your wife!” One hand wiped away the sweat on her face, clamped back on the revolver. “I checked the reports. She’s there, all right—listed as Claire Wiche. Single.”

  Marcus had a ready lie. One she would not have time to check. “We were married just before—”

  “Shut up!” Her finger convulsed on the trigger. Marcus stilled. That bullet would be poison for him. Deadly poison. “On the floor. Now!”

  He could sense her panic, knew it took only a small jerk for her to pull the trigger, intentional or not. Slowly, he got to his knees, lowered himself to the floor. Metal pressed into the back of his neck.

  “I should kill you, for daring to harm her.” The voice was different now, colder, the rhythm more affected, no longer the easy drawl. And heat whispered over his bare skin, promising more. “It would be so simple, so satisfying . . .” Her voice faded—and the barrel dug into him. “What are you, heathen? Why can’t I recognize—”

  “Hey.”

  The quiet voice spun her. And Marcus watched Claire smack the revolver out of her hands with something long and black. Without hesitating, Claire swung it back and clipped her jaw. The woman toppled backward.

  “Marcus.” Claire held out her right hand. He pushed himself off the floor, picking up the revolver before he took her hand. “Lea is right behind me. Are you all right?”

  “Better. Why do you ask?”

  “The back of your jacket is scorched.”

  “Courtesy of the chief.” Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Marcus felt the burn that reignited every time his shirt brushed over skin. “What in the gods name did you use to hit her?”

  Claire flashed a smile. “Three-hole punch.”

  Lea appeared behind her, carrying a blanket and a plastic bag. She looked better for what little healing he could offer. Once they found a safe place, he would finish. Then work on Claire, whether she agreed or not.

  He took the hole punch from Claire, surprised by the weight of it, and set it on the desk. “Time for us to be gone.”

  Leaving the cops free went against his better judgment, but he did not think they could afford the time. He led Claire and Lea out to the gravel parking lot—and halted when he saw a metal clamp on the front tire of his rental car.

  “Let me guess,” Claire said, moving to his side. “That’s your car.”

  “What is that monstrosity?”

  “A boot. It’s a portable, effective way to keep you from taking your car—anywhere.” She let out a sigh. “It looks like we’re walking.”

  “This way,” Lea said, and pointed to an unpaved road behind the police station. “Not many locals drive it after dark. No streetlights. As a bonus, I live down this way. If we can make it to my house, we can take my car and get the hell out of here.”

  Marcus looked down at Claire’s bare feet. “You will not get far without shoes—”

  “I’ll be fine. We need to move, Marcus, before they wake up.”

  Keeping close to the building, they made their way to the narrow road. Marcus had them form a chain, both women holding hands. He kept his right hand free, the revolver weighting his jacket pocket. Fully expecting to carry Claire sooner rather than later, he split his attention between her and their surroundings.

  Tall, thick oak trees lined the road, blocking any ambient light. Walking along the rough, hard packed edge, he understood why the locals avoided it. A driver would be on top of someone, or something, before they saw it. Right now, he appreciated the darkness, the camouflage it offered.

  A sharp gasp from Claire had him turning. Before she could argue or object, he lifted her into his arms and kept moving.

  “Put me—”

  “You will only slow us. Lea, hold on to my arm, so we do not lose you.”

  “Marcus—”

  “Save your strength, Claire.”

  “Are you done?” she said. He glanced down at her, seeing only the outline of her face, the glint of eyes he knew would be clouded with exhaustion. “I never thanked you—for coming up here, standing for me and for Lea.”

  “Did you think I would do anything else?”

  He could just make out her smile. “Lose the indignation, Jinn. After what you did for me in June, I will never question you again.” With a sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Was I really gone only three months? It felt like years.”

  “As it did to us.” He kept his eyes on the road, wanting to press his lips to her forehead, explore the emotion that slipped through the widening cracks in his shield when he kissed her. “Lea, how far will we need to—”

  Headlights splashed across the road, followed by a squeal of tires. Marcus lunged for the cover of the trees—and halted when he all but ran into a thick hedge that stretched at least a foot taller than him.

  “Gods—Lea, get behind me, and stay there.”

  He faced the road as the car—a dark van—skidded to a halt. Marcus eased Claire to the ground, pulled the revolved out of his jacket. The side door slid open. He stepped in front of Claire, aimed the revolver and braced himself for the attack.

  SEVEN

  “Stop fidgeting, Annie.” Eric leaned over the seat and laid his hand on her bouncing knee. He pitched his voice so it would be heard over the whine of the plane engine. “We’ll get there.”

  “You know Marcus. He’ll go charging in, all arrogance and self-righteous anger.”

  He forced down his laugher. “And you know he’s smarter than that, even if you would never admit it to his face.”

  Annie slumped in the seat and crossed her arms, her knees all but bumping her chin, those gorgeous, denim clad legs were so long. God help him, he loved her; loved all of her moods, her wicked humor, and the gleam in her eye every time she prepared herself to work magic. His own witch. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around that. Somehow, she made it easier.

  “You know,” she said, pushing hair off her face. “I really hate it when you’re right. And don’t you dare tell him. Ever.”

  “Hand to God, blondie. He’ll never know.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched, her tell that she was pulling out of her funk. “How much longer?”

  Eric glanced back at Jeff, who held up one finger. “About an hour.”

  “The car better be there.” She looked out the window. “I don’t want to deal with any more delays—”

  “Annie.” He cupped her chin, nudged until she met his eyes. “Who do you think is up there?”

  “I don’t—it doesn’t matter. Whoever it is needs help, so we’re going to help.”

  Eric studied her face. She swallowed, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Are you still having the dreams?”

  “No. No. Not since she—” Closing her eyes, she continued in a whisper. “Not since Claire saw me, said my name. They just—stopped.”

  “I’m sorry, love.” Letting go, he squeezed between the seats and joined her on the narrow bench seat. She was already turning into him when he wrapped his arm around her. “I mi
ss her, too. She left quite an impression.”

  Annie let out a watery laugh. “That’s Claire. Impossible to forget. You know what I liked most about her? I could never put one over on her. No one ever saw me, just the smart mouth. But she got me, completely. I don’t want her to be dead—Marcus thinks that’s why I’ve been having the dreams. I can’t figure out why they just stopped.”

  “You won’t want to hear this, but maybe the part of you that has been hanging on, the part causing the dreams, is ready to let go.”

  With a sigh, she curled into him. “I’m just so tired, Eric. Tired of missing her, tired of being pissed at her for lying to me, tired of trying to live the same life. It shattered the minute she fell into that void. I don’t want to pick up the pieces anymore, and constantly rearrange them.”

  “Sounds like you’re ready to start over.” He didn’t plan on doing it this soon, but it felt right. Letting her go, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black box.

  Annie jerked backward, one hand covering her mouth. “Oh, God.” When he opened the box she dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking. “Oh, God—”

  “Hey.” Appalled that he made her cry, Eric leaned in, brushed his hand over her blonde curls. “Annie, it’s okay—”

  She lifted her head, and he blinked. She was laughing. “I’m sorry—it’s not—” She cleared her throat, caught his hand when he started to put the box away. “No, you don’t. This may not be the scenario I had in my head for the most important moment of my life, but with you, it’s the right one. The answer’s yes.”

  Eric smiled, relief spreading through him. “I haven’t asked the question.”

  “Details.” She held out her hand. “Give.”

  “Not until I ask.”

  “You don’t—”

  He pressed one finger to her lips, enjoying the surprise that flared in those warm brown eyes. “I have been rehearsing this for days, and I am going to ask.” He traced his finger across her lips, then slid his hand up and cradled her cheek. “You came into my life when I thought I had nothing to live for, and made me realize I still did.” Letting out a shaky breath, he flipped open the box, the sapphire and amethyst ring sparkling against the black velvet. “I don’t remember what my life was like before I met you, and I don’t want a life without you.”

  He turned the box, watched her eyes widen as she caught sight of the ring. They moved up to his face, tears making them luminous in the single overhead light.

  “Eric—”

  “I sold the clinic.”

  One hand covered her mouth. “You didn’t—Eric, you love that clinic, all the animals you’ve treated for years—”

  “I can open another one. It’s a good bet people have pets in Santa Luna.” He took her hand, eased it down so he could see her face. He needed to see her face when he spoke the next words. “Marry me, Annie.”

  She nearly gave him a concussion when her enthusiastic embrace knocked him into the low ceiling. Her gentle kiss left him craving more—and eased the ache that hovered just below his heart since he left her behind.

  “I’d say yes just to get that ring.” He laughed, leaning in for another kiss. She laid her hand on his chest, pushing him against the seat. “But the fact that I love you like crazy makes it even better.”

  With those few words the ache disappeared.

  He pulled the ring out of the box, lifted her left hand and kissed her ring finger. Annie let out a sigh, her fingers trembling in his grasp. When he slid the ring on her finger she leaned in until her forehead touched his, one fingertip brushing over the sapphire.

  “It’s perfect. And it’s mine now—you’re not getting it back. Ever.”

  “I’m good with that.” He framed her face. “I love you, Annie Sullivan. Now,” he kissed her. “And always.”

  She crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m good with that.”

  Eric felt her kiss all the way to his toes, a slow, spreading warmth that thawed the icy grip of grief. He would miss his sister Katelyn every day for the rest of his life, but Annie made carrying that grief easier. Gave him the possibility of joy, laughter, healing.

  She let out a low moan when he deepened the kiss, plastered herself against him, hands finding their way under his shirt to bare skin—

  “Congratulations all around, Eric.” Jeff’s voice jerked them apart. Annie stifled a laugh, tugged down her shirt. “I’ll be the first to buy the champagne—after we land. Now get your ass up here and buckle in so I can do just that.”

  “Yes, Captain.” He brushed his lips over her scarred ear. “Remember where we left off.” He grabbed the top of the front seat, pulled himself forward.

  “I’ll just admire the view,” she said. Eric glanced over his shoulder, laughed at the wicked smile on her face. Then watched it fade as the news that they were landing sank in. “I need to call Marcus—”

  He dropped into the seat, reached back to touch her wrist. “No phones while we’re in the air. You can call the minute we touch down. A car is already waiting for us. Hey—we’ll get to him, Annie. He doesn’t have that much of a head start, and we already know where he headed first. We won’t leave without him, and whoever he came to rescue.”

  Annie swallowed, stared out the window. “What if it’s—”

  “She’s dead, Annie.” Her head snapped around, anger and grief in those beautiful eyes. “I know it hurts you to hear that, but we saw it happen.” He kept his voice low, sure that Jeff couldn’t hear them over the engine noise, not with headphones on. “Natasha stabbed her; they fell through a gate to Hell. There’s no coming back from that. Even for a demon.”

  For the first time, Annie didn’t flinch when he spoke the word in connection with Claire. Instead she looked away, and the sapphire flashed on her finger, blue fire sparking across the surface. Startled, she clapped her hand over the ring. Before she could withdraw Eric caught her wrist and gently pulled her hand away. The ring still glowed, the amethysts on either side of the teardrop sapphire sparkling.

  “I don’t—”

  The plane tilted, knocked them into the side of the cabin.

  “Damn it, Eric.” Jeff’s voice blasted across her denial. “Whatever power she’s throwing around, get her to stop—she’s screwing with my instruments.”

  Her gaze flew to his face, brown eyes narrowed. “You told him about me?”

  “You can shout at me later. Take it off. Now, Annie—we’ll figure out the what and why after we’re safe on the ground.”

  She yanked the ring off. The glow died instantly. Jeff let out a curse, and the small plane dropped, lifting them out of their seats. It leveled out before Eric had a chance to panic. He met Jeff’s gaze; sweat trickled down his friend’s face. Instrument flying was tricky under the best conditions. Throw in a witch who unintentionally blasted her power and it could test even the most skilled pilot.

  Neither of them spoke as Jeff contacted the tower of the small commuter field, gave his heading, and received landing instructions. After a smooth touchdown on the narrow runway, and a bumpy ride over ridged ground to the hangar, Annie said three words.

  “Explain yourself. Now.”

  EIGHT

  Instead of the expected bullet, a voice shot out of the darkness.

  “Get in.” Marcus’ finger froze on the trigger. The voice was female, which ruled out the chief. Regardless, she could be one of the poor townspeople who were under the witch’s influence— “Damn it—get in before one of those deadheads shows up!”

  “Mindy Kay?” Lea moved past Marcus, avoiding his outstretched hand. “How did you—”

  “We can talk later. I need you to get in—now.”

  “It’s okay.” Lea closed her fingers over Marcus’ wrist, eased his hand down. “She’s a witch, so she wasn’t there when Jane threw her mojo on the town. Marcus—we have to trust her. Jane won’t stay down for long.”

  “She hasn’t been touched, Marcus,” Claire said,
her voice edged with pain. “And we really have no other choice.”

  Hating that he had to give over control, Marcus helped Claire to the van, keeping the revolver close. Just in case. Handing her over to the lanky redhead, he climbed in, pulled Lea up behind him and slid the door closed.

  The driver gunned the gas, knocking them all into the nearest hard surface. No heat surrounded their would-be savior; he would have felt it, with her sprawled on top of him.

  “Sorry.” She flashed a smile, clear eyes the color of the Mediterranean meeting his gaze.

  “No broken bones, so I will forgive you.”

  Laughing, she rolled off him, and crouched beside Lea.

  Marcus picked himself off the floor, crawled over to Claire. “All right?”

  “Better than dead.” She smiled up at him, amusement dancing in the blue eyes. He noticed, for the first time since finding her, the silver that once laced the blue was gone. Every subtle probe told him she was mortal. An echo of the power she once had laid over her soul. The soul she told him she did not have when she fell. “How about you?”

  His back flared in response, the sweat stiff cotton of his shirt scraping over the burn like sandpaper.

  “Nothing that will not keep.” He slipped out of his jacket, grateful to have the weight of it off his back, and draped it around Claire. “I want you to rest now.” He looked over at the redhead. Mindy Kay knelt beside Lea, a long black coat pooling around her, cursing as she examined Lea’s injuries. “Where do you plan to take us?”

  “He knows.” Mindy Kay nodded toward the driver, shrouded by darkness and a hat pulled down over his face. “It’ll be safe, I promise. I’ve been planning to break Lea out since she was taken.” A smile broke across her face, warming the clear blue green eyes. “You just made it easier, walking her right out of there. How did you get past Bertram?”

  Marcus looked at Claire. “With a clever woman and a three-hole punch.”