Annie's Song (7 page)

“It’s supposed to be right here . . .” He found his navigation app, punched in the address. “Gotcha.”

He closed the app, started across the narrow side street, and almost knocked over the woman who burst out of the alley.

“Watch yourself, boy.” Pale grey eyes glared up at him, out of a pudgy face. The dark circles around them made her eyes look spooky, and not quite sane. Annie would call her short, flipped up hairstyle an attempt to look younger—unsuccessfully. And she reeked of patchouli, like she took a bath in the stuff. Zach backed out of smelling range, tried not to gag. “Children these days. No respect for others.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” An image popped into his mind, along with the familiar tug. No pain this time—what she lost was small, and still with her. But the zing of panic attached to it startled him, the desperate need for something. A need she hid from everyone. Zach hesitated. Mom told him never to do this. But she was a stranger, in another country, and he’d never see her again. “The key you’re looking for—it’s in the inside pocket of your purse.”

Startled, she blinked at him, then flung her ridiculous black cloak over her shoulder and reached into the carry on size bag. He was surprised she could find anything in that monster. He left her hunting frantically through the huge interior, and smiled when she let out a shout. God, he loved the high he got from doing that.

Two Witches and a Broomstick was on the left, between a pub and a narrow alley. Zach poked his head in the door, not sure if he was welcome. Their introduction at the clinic had been brief, and the short witch with the cool, blue-streaked hair had stared at him like he was from another planet. Penn—that was her name. He could tell she was a powerful witch by the way his amethyst hummed when she got near him.

All he wanted to do was thank her and the other woman, Michelle, for helping Annie and Eric. Mom drummed the whole polite thing into his head until it became second nature. Now he felt icky if he didn’t follow through.

“Hello?”

“Come in, Zach.” Penn walked around a tall display shelf. “We won’t bite.”

“Hey.” He let the door shut behind him, took off his baseball cap, forced himself to keep eye contact. “I just—I wanted to thank you, for helping my friends.”

“Thanks aren’t necessary.”

“Not according to my mom.”

Penn laughed. “I like her already.” She moved forward, touched the flaming sword and wings tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. “Awfully young to have one of these, aren’t you?”

“Mom said I begged until her ears were bleeding. She’s got two of them.” He swallowed. “I don’t remember. I was in an accident last year.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.” Penn rubbed his arm, and he felt warmth spread through him. Kind of like what Marcus did to calm him down before the flight.

“Yeah, thanks.” He stared at the floor, felt himself blushing. He was grateful for her concern—and that she didn’t stare at him like he just came off the crazy train. “I’m okay, but I don’t remember anything before the day Mom and Simon found me. He’s a priest friend of my mom’s, who used to be a cop. That’s how they found me, she said.”

“And you believe her.”

“She’s my mom.” Anger and panic flared, like it did every time he thought about that night. “I have to—”

“Zach.” Penn closed her hand over his wrist. “There’s no need to defend her.” This time he recognized the warmth spreading up his arm, soothing his temper, his fear. She was a healer. “Your mom loves you very much. I saw that right away.” She let him go, tilted her head as she studied him. “Do you know what the tattoo stands for?”

“Mom said it’s the symbol for a guardian angel. Like my own bat signal. I think I saw it in a book and thought it was cool. It feels like I’ve always had it.” He stared down at the tattoo, and an image flashed over it, of gold and flame. One he’d seen before, more than once, and if he were being honest, it scared the hell out of him. Jerking himself free of the image, the fear that came with it, he plastered on a smile. “Anyway, thank you. And thank Michelle for me.”

“You can thank her yourself.” Michelle appeared from behind the same display. “What am I being thanked for?”

“Helping Annie,” Penn said. “Like we needed to be—”

“It was our pleasure, Zach.” Michelle laid one hand on Penn’s shoulder when she opened her mouth. Zach blinked; it was like watching his mom and Annie. “Feel free to look around. Penn will help you if you have any questions. I need to—damn. Sorry.”

She covered her mouth and turned away. But not before Zach felt the tingle, moving quickly up to slick pain. Then the emotion-blurred image popped into his head. She lost something.

“Michelle?” Penn rubbed her back. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t find the locket,” Michelle whispered. “Mom’s locket.” Zach dropped his cap, clutched the shelf next to him as the pain became a slow, twisting knife in his gut. “Zach?”

Her voice sounded distant, and the hands that guided him through the shop only intensified the pain, since they belonged to the person who lost. He needed to find . . .

“Find what, honey?”

Blinking past the film of tears, he found Michelle in front of him. Kneeling in front of him. Awareness of the chair that held him filtered in through the pain. Taking in a shaky breath, he whispered.

“Your locket. Need to—find it.”

“No—he can’t be.” Penn’s disbelief slammed into him like a tidal wave, and he doubled. “Zach—breathe now, that’s it.” He felt her power, a cool wave washing over the heat of his pain. “Sweet God in Heaven—he’s a seeker, Chelle.”

“That’s not possible. They’re a myth, Penn.”

“Apparently not. Zach,” her voice was gentle when she said his name. For some reason it twisted the pain in his gut tighter. “Does it hurt you if you can’t look for something you know is lost?”

“Duh,” he whispered. Annie would have been proud.

Penn laughed. “Sense of humor intact. That’s good. Michelle, tell him you want him to find the locket.”

“This is absurd.”

“Tell him.”

“Zach.” Her quiet voice touched him like a soft, soothing breeze. “Can you find my locket for me?”

“No.” Penn sounded impatient. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

“Right. I want you to find my locket, Zach.”

“Okay.” The pain eased, like it did before, as soon as she said the words. Two sets of hands helped him sit upright. “I’m okay.”

“You look like death. Michelle, bring him in back. I know I have some of my roast beef sandwich left from lunch.”

“Roast beef?” His stomach clenched. As much as he wanted that sandwich, it would have to wait. “Maybe after.” He met Michelle’s gaze, tried not to flinch from the loss he saw there. It was all he could see, all he could feel beyond the pain. “I need to see the locket. I can’t get it clear. Too much emotion attached to it.” He held out his hand.

Eyebrows raised, Michelle took his hand, her eyes widening. The image snapped into focus, as vivid as if it hung in front of him. And he knew.

He pushed himself up, every muscle screaming in protest, and limped to the long black marble counter. Michelle followed after him. “No, it can’t be there. I haven’t worn it in the shop all week.”

“Hush,” Penn said. “Let him do this.”

The locket in his head got brighter, almost blinding, the closer he got to the counter. One hand caught the edge, the marble cold under his fingers as he slid them along the length of it. He hunched over the counter as a flash burst through his head. Shaking fingers closed over a scarf on the shelf under the counter. He dragged it up, the soft wool feeling like pounds instead of ounces. With a harsh breath he dropped it on the counter.

The locket glinted against the black marble.

“Oh God.” Michelle touched the locket. As soon as she did, the pain died, the image fading from his mind. “Oh, my God.” Scooping up the locket, she wrapped her arms around Zach. “Thank you.”

He felt her shaking, heard the tears in her voice. He still didn’t know how to deal with this part of it. The gratitude, the gushing emotion. He patted her back, awkward, let her hold on to him.

“The locket is important to her.” Penn stepped into his line of sight, one hand rubbing Michelle’s back. “It belonged to her mother.”

“I know.” Zach swallowed, not saying what else he knew.

That her mother died in a car accident. That the locket was the only thing to survive the fire that engulfed the car on impact. He hated the intimate details he learned about the people, the items. But he kept them to himself. He certainly wouldn’t want someone spewing out his secrets. The ones he remembered, anyway.

Michelle finally let him go, then promptly shoved him on the stool behind the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed to sit?”

Penn chimed in before Zach had the chance. “Because you were too busy slobbering all over him. Ready for that sandwich now?” He nodded, knowing better than to get in the middle of two women bickering. Mom and Annie did it all the time, and their friendship stayed intact. “Sit here,” she said. “And I’ll—why am I smelling patchouli? We don’t carry any of that disgusting hippie scent.” She headed to a shelf, and Zach caught a whiff of it just before she let out a gasp. “Oh, Lord, Diana. You nearly scared the life out of me.”

A short, chubby woman stepped out of a niche created by two shelves. Zach knew who it was before she appeared, and regretted his earlier impulse. She was the spooky-eyed woman he ran into on the street, wearing the black cloak that would have been perfect for Halloween. The woman who lost her key, who needed something so badly it kept her up at night.

“I did not wish to interfere.” She studied Zach, those spooky eyes intense in a way that made his neck hair itchy. “You were obviously too busy to attend to another patron.”

Penn crossed her arms. Zach could almost see the temper rolling off her, but she kept her voice level. “What can I do for you?”

Diana pushed one hand through her dull brown hair. It made her look even more unhealthy. “I would like to know if my order arrived.”

“Not yet,” Michelle said, stepping between the two of them. “I just got the email for the tracking. It will be here by the end of the week.”

Diana frowned. “And it would have been faster had I gone to Scotland and fetched it myself.” She lifted her chin. “I will accept this delay, but do not expect orders from me in the future.” Her gaze moved past them, and landed on Zach. Those pale grey eyes studied him, and he felt like a specimen under that cold, unblinking scrutiny. He knew she recognized him, but she didn’t say anything about their slap bang meeting. He closed one hand over the amethyst at his throat, forced himself to keep eye contact. “A new errand boy?”

“The son of a friend.” Penn’s tone clearly told Diana her welcome had worn itself out. “We’ll phone you when your package is here. Unless you came for something else.”

“No.” She glanced at Zach one last time. “I will expect to hear from you before the week is out.”

Penn watched her, and after the fairy bell over the door chimed, she let her temper explode. “Overbearing, talentless, meddling bit . . .” Her voice faded when she turned and spotted Zach. “Sorry, kid. She just pushes my buttons, every time.”

“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”

Laughing, Penn reached over the counter and ruffled his hair. “I’ll get that sandwich for you.”

Zach waited until she was out of sight before he asked Michelle the question that had been gnawing at him. “What is a seeker?”

“Oh, Zach.” Michelle took his hands. “I didn’t think you heard that part of the conversation. It’s a myth—someone compelled to find, whether it’s a thing, a person, an idea. I think it depends on the seeker, but, God, they’re not supposed to be real.”

“How?” He whispered past the lump in his throat. “How does someone become a seeker?”

Michelle studied him, as if debating whether or not to answer. “They endure a life-altering event, and survive it. And by life-altering, I mean they become something else, something different. You’re a kid, Zach. A normal teenager, who has a gift. Don’t let Penn’s fanciful ideas sway you. Come on,” She picked up his cap, handed it to him and helped him stand, wrapping one arm around his waist. “You can eat in the back room, and then we’ll take you home.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine once I eat.”

Zach kept quiet while the two women talked around him, eating the sandwich and the big bag of chips—or crisps, as they were called here. Penn’s insistence, and Michelle’s explanation, ran through his mind on a loop, getting louder and louder.

He wasn’t a normal teenager. Not since the accident. If he was before, he didn’t remember—couldn’t remember, no matter how hard he tried.

As soon as he knew he’d be able to stand on his own, he thanked them for the food and made his way out of the shop, shoving the cap in his back pocket. He got as far as the side of the building and leaned against it, already sweating and shaky.

“Good afternoon, young man.” The voice made him jump. He looked up, and met familiar, spooky grey eyes. The salty, nose curling reek of sweat pouring off her almost covered the patchouli. “Do you remember me?”

“Diana. You were in the shop—”

“Yes, yes. Good boy. Now give me your hand.” He recognized a spell when it was thrown at him, especially a clumsy spell. Diana looked miffed when he didn’t obey like a willing puppet. “I said, give me your hand.”

“It doesn’t work on me.”

“What?” Her voice rose an octave, scraped against his ears. “What are you talking about?”

“Spell casting. It doesn’t work on me. Never has.”

“Well.” She caught his arm and dragged him down the narrow alley, surprisingly strong for a chubby woman. Before he could react she pushed him against the wall and pressed a wicked dagger to his throat. His heart skipped as the cold steel slid up until the tip bit into his skin. “I guess we will have to do this the old fashioned way. Come with me, quietly, and your sweet witch mum will not be harmed.”

Panic burst through him. “How do you know—”

“I always know when a witch enters my domain. Your friend wore the haze of love over her power, and she posed little danger. Your mother,” she pressed the length of the blade into his throat, until it drew blood. Zach tried not to jerk at the pain, somehow knowing it would only provoke her. “And the man with her, they are trouble. But you, young Zach—you are a boon, sent by the Goddess. When I thought failure would haunt my every attempt, here you are, with your special gift.”