by Dean, Cate
He stared past her, his voice a raw whisper. “Do what you will. I don’t have the strength to fight you. But I will ask one promise.” He met her eyes, the muddy green depths finally showing signs of life. It was anger, but she’d take it. “Once you realize you can’t save me, you will let me go.”
Horror clawed through her. “Marcus—”
“Promise me.”
“Damn it.” She straightened, ran both hands through her hair. “Fine. You got your promise.” She gripped his hand before he could retreat. “But here’s mine—I’m not giving up on you. So deal.”
Letting him go, she stalked out of the bedroom, and didn’t give in to the shakes until she was out of his sight.
Her knees buckled—and the hunk, Simon, caught her before she did a face plant with the hardwood. Leading her over to a hideous plaid sofa, he settled her and sat next to her, sandwiching her hand.
“Just breathe, now. That’s it, focus on each breath, you’re almost there.”
His deep, soothing voice calmed her. She wanted to trust him, believe him—which made her immediately suspicious.
Yanking her hand free, she inched backward, and froze when she saw the smile on his face.
“Sorry, he said. “Occupational hazard. I automatically try to comfort someone in pain. How is he?”
“Stubborn. But that’s normal.” She watched Claire stand up, cross the living room, shaking hands clenched together so tightly her knuckles were white. “Eric thinks it’s some kind of blood poisoning, and that if we hurry, we can treat it—”
With a wordless cry Claire spun and limped-ran into the bedroom. Eric hugged the doorframe to avoid collision.
Annie followed, and got there in time to hear Claire’s choked question.
“Has anyone ever survived this?” Both hands reached down, framed his face. “Answer me, Jinn. Has any of your kind ever survived this?”
He swallowed. “One,” he whispered. “But he was only grazed by a steel blade, had no sin attached to him—”
“Tell me how.”
“It will do no good, Claire. We don’t have what—”
“Tell me.”
Marcus closed his eyes. “He was healed with silver stones of the earth, by a man of the holy orders.”
Claire dropped her hands. “What do you mean by a man of—”
“He’s talking about a Catholic priest.” Simon stood in the doorway, his face pale. “I happen to know where you can find one.”
Claire moved, but Annie got to him first, dug her fingers into his arm. “Where?”
“You’re bruising him.”
Surprised, she let go. “You? But you’re—”
“Masquerading as a cop? I was a detective, in another life.” He ran one hand over his short brown hair. The cut just enhanced his sinfully gorgeous face. And finding out explained her desire to trust. “You want to know what I meant by my earlier statement, Claire? That witch swept through my town, took over a friend before I knew who she was, what she was, and killed people I loved. She escaped before I could stop her. Before I could avenge them. I’m here to correct that mistake.”
Claire stepped to him, touched his hand. “Have you—”
“Broken my vows? Not yet.” He let out a sigh, and Annie saw the grief he managed to hide from them flash in the depths of his green eyes. “Find me those stones, and I will do what I can.”
Lea appeared behind Simon, looking tiny next to his muscular build. “He may be talking about hematite. Blood cleansing is one of the healing properties. And it is a silvery grey stone.” She wrapped both arms around herself, looked at Claire. “There’s an ample supply—at my New Age shop. In town.”
“Which might as well be the moon.” Claire rubbed her face—and Annie spotted the bandage on her left wrist. She pushed aside her need for answers. Right now, Marcus was the focus. She could grill Claire once they took care of him. “We have to find a way. It’s dark, which will give us the best chance of getting there relatively unscathed—”
“You’re not going anywhere near town.” Annie blocked Claire in, knowing how impulsive she was about doing dangerous on her own. “I’ll—”
“You will stand out like a beacon,” Claire said, gesturing to her ring. It still danced with blue fire. Her own temper manifested for everyone to see. Great. “I won’t put any of you in danger. This is my choice, Annie; I’m the reason Marcus was injured. I’m going, and so is Simon.” He looked at her, surprise flashing across his face. “Once we retrieve the hematite, you can come straight back, help Marcus. I will be a distraction, if it becomes necessary.”
“No—”
“I can see it, Annie.” Claire moved to her, took her hand. “I can see the darkness that holds them. And that will give us an edge. Stay here, look after Marcus—” Her voice broke, and she closed her eyes briefly—but not before Annie saw the glint of tears. She swallowed her own tears. “We’ll be back as fast as we can, so keep him alive.”
She squeezed Annie’s hand before letting go, and limped past her.
“Claire—wait.” Lea pulled off her tennis shoes. “You’ll want these, seeing as you’re barefoot.” With a smile she knelt in front of Claire and helped her slip them on, tying the laces. “Please be careful—Jane is on a tear, since she lost not only her morning sacrifice, but someone she’s not sure of. And trust me, she hates unsure.”
“Thank you, Lea.” Claire kissed her cheek, took a deep breath, and looked over at Simon. Annie saw the exhaustion, the lingering pain that hovered around her—and swallowed when she realized she could see them. “Ready?”
He pulled his gun. “I am now.”
Laughter burst out of Claire. “Sorry,” she said, trying to control her smile. “Now that I know you’re a man of God—weapons don’t fit my mental image.” She reached back, started to wrap her tangled length into a bun, then flinched and lowered her left hand. “That hand is going to be out of commission for the near future.”
“Let me.” Annie stepped behind her, used the tangles to her advantage as she tied it into a messy knot. “It may not stay—though with the snarls you’ve got in there, it’s probably permanent now.”
“Thank you, Annie. We’ll be back soon.”
She followed Simon out the door, smiling at Annie before she shut it behind her. Annie prayed it wouldn’t be the last time she saw that smile. Or Claire.
*
“Did you literally come back from Hell, or was that a colorful euphemism?”
Claire swallowed, kept her focus on the ground, afraid to see the condemnation in Simon’s eyes. “What do you think?”
“That you’ve got deep layers under that pretty face. And now isn’t the time to dig, no matter how much I want to.”
She met those clear green eyes, and saw nothing but his concern for her. Relief left her lightheaded. She didn’t realize until now just how much this man’s opinion mattered to her. When he flexed his fingers, it gave her an opening to change the subject.
“How is your hand?”
“It was like a hot water burn. The second I got his blood off, my skin started cooling.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t learn field medicine in the academy.”
He shook his head. “You don’t miss a thing. I was a combat medic, in the army. Joined up right out of high school, before I realized blindly following orders is not my forte.”
“Why did you become a cop?”
“Connections. My sergeant knew someone who knew someone—and I ended up at the academy. Best thing that happened to me.”
“But you quit.”
His voice changed, an edge to it she hadn’t heard before now. “A story for another time. You tell me if you need a break.”
“I won’t need one.”
Claire let the silence stretch out, fighting to keep up with his long-legged pace as they moved through the trees lining the unpaved road. Bracing herself for his reaction, she asked the question she didn’t expect him to answer. “Can you tell me w
hat happened?”
She heard Simon take in a breath, then let it out, slow and not quite steady.
“Jane took over one of my teachers, at the Catholic school attached to my church. She obviously didn’t do her homework—everyone in town knows about my gift, that I can see any kind of power. Yours is unlike any I’ve ever come across—never mind that I couldn’t see it until I touched you. That’s a first for me, too.”
He glanced over at her. For the first time, she had no smooth line to cover herself—and he was already suspicious. So she turned the attention back to him. “How long have you been able to see power?”
“I’ve had the gift since I was a kid, after I fell out of an oak tree and landed on my hard head.” A smile flashed across his face. “And I wasn’t quiet about it. I also studied the supernatural, once I was old enough not to be scared stupid by nightmares. I wanted to be able to recognize what I was bumping into. Like Marcus.” The smile faded, and he rubbed one hand over his face. “When someone I considered a friend walked into my office, trapped by Jane’s power, I froze—and that hesitation gave her the opening to blast me against the far wall. By the time I woke up, she’d already gathered a good number of my congregation and laid her influence on them. That teacher died before it was done.”
“Simon.” Claire touched his arm. “I am so sorry.”
He cleared his throat, his voice raw when he continued. “I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t protect the people who looked to me for guidance. Not as a priest.”
“But as a cop, you could.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“You told me you haven’t broken your vows.” Panic scratched at her—he was Marcus’ only chance— “What about the commandments?”
“Thou shalt not kill. I haven’t, Claire. But I will, if that’s what it takes to stop her.” He turned his head, and in the cloud chased moonlight she saw the tears on his face. “Five people died at her hands. Good people—whose only crime was knowing her when she was alive.”
She looked at him, surprised. “You knew Jane?”
He let out a hollow laugh. “Everyone in twenty miles of her knew Jane. Not to speak ill of the undead, but she was rude, obnoxious, and thought she was superior to every other witch in the county.”
“Why did she hit your town first? If the person she blames for her death is here—”
“Energy. Ghosts are like vampires—they need the energy of the living to survive. Jane used my town, my people, as a pit stop, to fill herself up before she came here. Once I realized who she was, I got here ahead of her, talked my way into the deputy job. It wasn’t difficult—the chief was friends with my old CO. I had enough time to start laying a trap before she showed.”
“What happened?”
“Because she’s free, you figured the trap didn’t work. I never had the chance to try. She walked into the station a week ago, wearing Bertram. Shooting her full of iron pellets wasn’t going to be an option, not with her possessing—”
His voice cut off as he grabbed her right hand and yanked her into the small grove of trees. Claire heard the crunch of footsteps from the road, and looking up, saw the glint of metal as the beam from a flashlight danced over their shotguns. There were two, both men, talking in that over formal monotone she remembered from Heather. She didn’t need to see them to know that darkness would coil around them, tying them to Jane.
Simon stayed between her and the men, until their voices faded into the distance. Keeping a tight grip on her hand, he pulled her forward, stepping up their pace.
“I know a shortcut that’ll take us out of their path, but it’s rough. You up for it?”
Her leg twitched, already complaining at her attempts to keep up with him to this point. She ignored it, her fingers digging into Simon’s calloused hand.
“Lead on, Macduff.”
His chuckle washed over her as he led her deeper into the trees.
*
Pain stalked Marcus. It clawed at his arm, a violent, invisible predator he could not evade, even in sleep.
Gentle hands calmed him as he thrashed, the voice gentle, soothing when his soul felt raw. Finally, the pain retreated, sated for the moment, and let him fall. Darkness spiraled around him like a sandstorm, hot, heavy, dragging him into the past.
Grief squeezed his heart when he saw her. Karana. His love, his life, his guilt. She smiled, holding one hand out to him—as she did every time, welcoming him without question, without reservation. That trust cost her life.
I know you forgave me, love, though I will never forgive myself.
He was supposed to die in the cave he condemned himself to, die in cold and darkness, severed from the very elements that sustained him. Instead he woke to find himself in a new world, alone, with every memory intact.
Leaving behind the visual reminders of his former life, he wandered, never able to stay in one place for long, not willing to open himself to anyone. Until Claire.
With a moan, he tore himself away from just the thought of her—and pain exploded in his arm.
“—safe, Marcus. Can you hear me? Just relax, that’s right.” Swallowing, he ordered his eyes to open. After an endless moment they obeyed, and he met Lea’s hazel eyes. Her concern touched him, soothed him. “There you are. I want you to drink a little water for me.”
One hand slipped behind his head, raised him enough for his lips to meet the edge of the glass. Water cooled his raw throat, and when she lowered him back to the bed, a damp cloth cooled his forehead.
“Claire—” he whispered.
“Gone to get what we need to help you—no,” she held him down when he struggled to sit. It was not much of a battle. “You need to rest.”
“It will do no good.”
“Can’t hurt.” He looked at her, his gaze moving to her hands. “Yes, my fingers still ache, but you helped by taking care of the breaks. I’m going to repay that care by making sure you stay alive, so don’t fight me.”
“Your command, milady.”
She smiled, leaning in to brush hair off his cheek. The smile faded when she touched him. “Your fever is worse. Please, Marcus—tell me there’s something we can do for you.”
“The blessing—” He swallowed, his voice fading. “It is all I know.”
“Then you hang on, damn it, so we can do it.”
“Will do my best.” Closing his eyes, he clutched the sheets as poison wormed its way deeper, drove him closer to madness.
*
Claire followed Simon along the wall of the dark alley, pushed down the desire to just sit for a while. Climbing up the rock-strewn slope sapped her remaining strength, left her exhausted and aching.
Marcus needed this, and she would walk back to Hell personally before she let him down.
The quaint, boardwalk-lined main street was deserted, quiet. Too quiet. Simon stopped at the side of the building, a small bookstore, peered around the corner. “Why do I feel like we’re walking into a trap?”
Claire touched his wrist. “Forewarned, and all that.”
“Right.” He looked down at her. “The shop we’re after is three doors down, this side of the street. We get separated, meet me here.”
Gun held at his side, he slipped around the corner, kept to the shadows cast by the overhangs and deep porch fronts. Claire followed after him. Nothing moved, except fall leaves blowing down the street, pushed by the rising wind.
Simon halted, checked the vicinity again. Standing next to him, Claire felt the tension in his clenched muscles. Nodding, he covered her as she unlocked the door with the key Lea gave her and pushed the door open. Simon backed in behind her, then shut the door, bolting it from the inside.
“Here.” He pulled a flashlight off his utility belt. “I’ll wait for you here. And hurry, Claire. We’re fast running out of what little luck we’ve been blessed with.”
Clicking on the light, she oriented herself, and headed for where Lea said the crystals were kept. She found the hematite, and took the
basket off the shelf. Below it was a display of amethyst; she picked one of the pendants on a chain and slipped it over her head. She would ask Annie for a loan once they returned. The amethyst warmed against her skin, made her feel more centered. But it didn’t raise her power. Not even a spark.
Turning off the flashlight so it would not bounce off the front window, she moved through the shop—and halted when she saw movement just outside.
Simon backed away from the door, his free hand reaching for her. Claire touched his fingers; he gripped them, pulled her in behind him, and kept moving toward the back of the shop.
“When I say run,” he whispered. “You run. No argument.”
She opened her mouth to do just that when the front window exploded.
Simon threw her at the wall, covered her with his body. She heard him gasp when he swung around, keeping himself between her and the front of the shop.
The chief stepped over the low window ledge, the darkness snapping around him like angry snakes. Bitter cold slammed into her.
“Simon.” He put both hands on his hips, the gesture feminine and petulant. “I am so disappointed. But I will get over it.”
He flung one hand up. Simon let out a pained gasp and dropped to his knees. The gun fell to the floor as he clutched his throat, choking. Claire knelt beside him, jerked her hand back when she saw the tendrils wrapped around his throat.
“Stop it!” She lurched to her feet. “Let him go, and I will leave with you.”
The chief turned his head. “You are intriguing—an enigma I can’t quite work out. You might make a suitable vessel. A bit short for my taste, but I would so enjoy being as beautiful outside as I know I am. As I was meant to be.”
His hand dropped, and so did Simon, coughing as he took in a real breath.
“Thank you,” Claire said. She stepped back until she could touch his shoulder. “I will go with you—when you let him leave. Unharmed.”