Carry On Wayward Son (12 page)

“You did not leave her alone up there—”

He caught her arm before she could storm past him. “You’ll be about as much use to her as I am.” Annie bit her lip, pain shooting across her face. He slipped his arm around her waist, turned to Regina. “Now go,” he gentled his voice, managing a smile for Regina’s daughter. “I have friends waiting outside for you.”

Nodding, Regina took Hillary’s hand and moved to the door. Simon held his breath; the latch clicked, and she pulled the door open. Holding tight to her daughter’s hand, they stepped through the open doorway—and stumbled backward. Like they’d run into a wall.

“We can’t—” Regina wrapped her arms around Hillary. “It’s blocked.”

“Let me.” Simon eased Annie to the wall, then reached out his good hand to Hillary. “Want to go for a walk?”

She nodded; his fingers engulfed her small hand. Pulling her in tight against his side, he moved to the threshold, and stepped into the same thick, resistant wall. But like before, he kept going through, Hillary clinging to him.

Eric and Theresa ran up the sidewalk. Crouching down with Hillary, he smiled at her. “My friend Theresa will stay with you. I’m going to go back, get your mom and Annie.”

“Thank you, Simon.” She wrapped both arms around his neck, kissed his cheek. The simple act sent a surge of warmth through him. “I like you.” Patting his cheek, she turned and held out her hand to Theresa. “I remember you. Can you tell me more about the rats?”

Theresa’s surprised laughter followed him, fading as he stepped through the resistance. It let him go with greater reluctance, left him gasping for breath on the other side.

“Simon.” Regina touched his left arm.

“Okay. Your turn. We need to hurry—Claire can only distract him for so long.”

She gripped his hand, let him pull her through. It took the last of his fading strength. By the time he forced himself back inside, he knew he looked bad. Annie simply reinforced it.

“You look like hell.”

“Good to know. Let’s move—”

“I won’t go without Claire—”

“I won’t leave her to him, Annie.” He wrapped his good arm around her waist. “But she has all she can handle without worrying about you on top of it.”

“Yeah—rub it in. God, I feel useless.”

He hauled her up, started for the door. “Right there with you, sweetheart.”

*

“
Z
ach—” Claire ducked as his arm flailed out. “Stop—damn it—”

His elbow found the corner of her mouth and snapped her head sideways. Hitting the floor she rolled away from him, the side of her face throbbing. She felt more than heard him behind her and flung her fist out. It hit something bony. They both gasped, too exhausted for any other reaction.

Claire didn’t expect him to fight back. But now that he knew hurting her wouldn’t bounce back at him, he went after her with a vengeance. Wherever he learned to punch, they taught him almost as well as her sensei. She could barely dodge and block his blows, and she was one of the best in her class.

Crawling away from him, she shook her head, watched blood fly, leaving a red arc on the wood floor. She wanted to give Simon as long as possible to get free of the house, but she didn’t know how much longer she could hold Zach off before one of them was seriously hurt.

One hand clamped around her right ankle and yanked. It would have ruined her, before the man trying to beat her to hell hadn’t healed her leg. Sliding across the floor, she twisted around and up, leading with her fist. It plowed into Zach’s left cheek and knocked him backward.

Before she could take advantage he pushed off the floor, whirling away from her. With a harsh breath she got to her feet and went after him.

*

A
nnie couldn’t breathe.

The air pressed on her, dragged at her. She closed her eyes. Simon’s arm was solid, real, something she could hold on to as the pressure dragged her under—

“Annie.” The low voice pulled her back up, hands warming her iced skin. “Open your eyes, blondie. I need you to open your eyes.” She wanted to, wanted to look into those clear blue eyes. That desire won out, and she pried her lids apart. “There you are.”

“Hey—handsome.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, let out a shaky breath. “Don’t do that again.”

“Okay.” She inched her hand up, touched his sun streaked hair. “Why don’t you—come and sweep me off my feet.” He lifted her, so carefully it made her heart ache. With a choked sigh, she pressed her face into his throat. “I’m okay,” she whispered, felt his arms tighten in response. “I’m okay.”

Lifting her head to tell him to examine Simon, she let out a curse. He was heading back inside.

“Simon!” He turned at her raw shout, long enough to shake his head before he kept going. “Damn it—Simon—”

“Hang on.” Eric strode up the sidewalk, blocked him just before he stepped inside. “I’d like to take a look at that shoulder.”

“And I’d like you to get the hell out of my way. Now.”

“Simon.” Annie touched his wrist. “You can’t help her like this.”

He backed away, the anger on his face startling her so much she couldn’t talk. “Watch me.”

By the time she got her voice back he slammed the door between them.

“Damn it—” She pushed at Eric’s chest. “Put me down—”

“You are not going after him.”

“Like hell—he’s just going to get himself hurt worse—” A loud
snap
cut off their argument. More echoed in its wake, from all parts of the house, like the sound of dominoes hitting each other as they fell. Dread coiled through Annie. She reached for the latch, tried it.

The door was locked.

*

T
he sound of locks clicking over distracted Claire for a second. And Zach used that second to pin her against the wall.

“No one can help you now. He tried to banish me.” Rage sliced through his voice. “You brought him here, to send me back—”

“That was before I knew. I told him, Zach. He didn’t believe me—he wanted to protect us from you—”

“I am not your enemy.”

“You terrified a young girl, trapped us in this house, injured my friend.” Claire looked at him, used the hand clutching his shirt to distract him from her other hand, inching down her side. “What am I supposed to think?”

“But you know—what I am, what I want. And my time is fast running out. I need them, to keep from being dragged back there. Again.”

“I’m sorry, Zach. You can’t have them. I’m so sorry.”

She punched her fist into his injured hip.

With a hoarse scream he toppled—and took her with him. They hit the floor. Hard. Zach gripped her hand when she tried to roll away from him.

“Let me go—”

“Help me.”

His raw plea stopped her fist just inches from his stomach. Jerking free, she sat, wiped at the blood on her chin.

“I am running out of good reasons to even try.” His despair shrouded him, along with a desperate fear that tainted his essence like a spreading stain. “Unlock the doors, Zach, and we will talk—”

“There is no time.” He lunged at her again. This time she was ready. Her fist caught him just under the ribs, doubled him. Gasping, he clutched the floor, lifted his head. “Please—”

He said it, for the first time since his demands and his temper trapped them here.

“Zach.” She knelt in front of him, touched his cheek, startled by the cool skin under her fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That this body is nearly done? Our—disagreement accelerated the timetable. I can feel the pull—”

“Then we’ll just help you on your way.” Simon’s low, raw voice snapped her head around.

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Simon—” She climbed to her feet, panic clawing at her. “You can’t be here, not for this—”

“Deal.” He gripped his arm, his jaw clenched. “Just keep him away from me.”

Zach was right behind her, and she knew what he wanted. “No,” she said, grabbing his arm when he kept moving toward Simon. “If you want me to help, you’re going to leave us alone. Just a few minutes.” She closed her eyes, took in a shaky breath. “Simon and I have to talk.”

*

“
I
’m not leaving her alone in there.” Annie flinched, clutching the top of the car seat, trying not to look at the burn while Eric treated it. She kept glancing down; it hurt like the devil, worse than when the angel—guardian—whatever flamed her. She couldn’t figure out why, because it looked the same. Like a bad sunburn. “Eric—we have to—”

“Absolutely not.” He gripped her hand, such raw fear clouding his blue eyes she couldn’t take in a breath. “I could have lost you in there, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t get to you, Annie. No,” he stopped her from saying anything. “I’ll have my say. For once. You are not indestructible, and it’s time you realized that.”

“I never—”

“Claire spent God only knows how long bouncing back from anything thrown at her. Stop thinking you’re the same.” He cradled her face, his voice hoarse. “Stop, before I lose you.”

“Eric.” She turned into his hand, kissed his palm. “I didn’t know you—why didn’t you say something before now?”

“Because you love her.” He let out a sigh. “Because I do. And part of me believes, even now, that she can beat the odds.”

“It’s hard not to. I won’t leave her in there alone with—”

“She’s not alone.” He laid her back on the seat, effectively blocking her in. “And Simon won’t let anything happen to her.”

*

C
laire led Simon out of the bedroom, heading for the bathroom down the hall. He stopped her outside the door, tipped up her chin. “You look like you were dragged down that ten miles of bad road. Does it hurt?”

“Not so much, now. I’ll be fine, Simon. Let’s get you inside before you fall over.” She didn’t like the grey cast to his face. “Sit. Let me take a look at that shoulder.”

“There’s nothing you can—” He let out a choked scream as she snapped his shoulder back into place. “Damn it—you couldn’t give me a little warning?”

“You would have tightened up. I wasn’t sure I had enough to pop it back in when you were relaxed. I’m sorry—for everything.”

He looked at her. “It’s time for your story, isn’t it.”

Swallowing, Claire unbuttoned her shirt. “It’s past time.” She slipped it off, twisted the fabric to create a sling. “I put it off, because I know once I tell you, it will probably—no, it will end our friendship.”

“Do you think so little of me?”

“Far from it. Someone with less honor would want me dead.” She forced herself to look into his eyes. “And yes, what I have to tell you is that bad.”

Carefully, and with the knowledge that this would most likely be their last minutes as friends, Claire tied the makeshift sling at the back of his neck, eased his arm into it. He caught her wrist before she could retreat.

“Whatever you tell me, Claire, it won’t change the way I feel about you.”

“I’ll hold on to that.” She stayed where she was, knowing he would let go of her soon enough. “Okay—quick and dirty, because I don’t think Zach is going to give me much more time. I stood with Lucifer in Heaven, one of his renegade angels, and was cast down for it. I spent centuries in Hell torturing souls of the damned, more in exile for starting to care about those souls, and the last eighty years disguised as a human.” His hand dropped away, and her hope went with it. “When you met me, I had just come back from Hell, where I sent the demon who tried to destroy my friends, and where my master, my brother Azazel told me I have a soul. He created the wall you felt trapping my power, to keep me safe from the demon still inside.”

Simon stared at her, his face blank, his eyes cold. Without a word he stood and walked past her, down the stairs, out of sight. Never looking back.

Claire let out a shaky breath, swallowed past the grief lodged in her throat. Tears she rarely shed slipped down her face, only increasing the weight that pressed on her heart. She moved, slow and deliberate, like she had just been given life-changing bad news. Zach stood in the middle of the bedroom, bloody and bruised.

“You have been wounded.” He moved forward, his touch healing instead of hurting this time. “Down to the soul. What did he do?”

“Nothing I didn’t expect.” Her voice sounded flat, and she felt—heavy. “If you still want this, Zach, there are things you need to know. Conditions, risks—to both of us—what you will lose.”

“I do not care—”

“You should.” And the pain finally hit. Sharp, gut wrenching. She wrapped both arms around her waist, cold and vulnerable in her thin lace camisole. “What you want will rip out the core of you, the essence that makes you what you are. It’s agony, and you never get over it.”

His face was sheet white. “Will I—remember? What I was?”

“None of it.” She wanted to hate him—for forcing her to tell Simon, for having to confront the part of herself she never thought to touch again. But she couldn’t, simply because she understood his desperate need, and the anguish of being trapped by the consequence of his actions.

“How do I know?” His voice filtered through the wave of grief trying to drown her. “How do I know you can do this?”

“Give me your hand.” She held on to him with both hands, knowing he would recoil the moment he felt—all of her, pressed his palm over the scar between her ribs, and let go of her control on the fractured wall in front of her power.

They both gasped, dropping to their knees as his pure, blinding white light tangled with her shattered power. Agony drove through her, more excruciating than the moment she was ripped from Heaven, or banished from Hell.

Zach wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her in. Inch by inch, his soothing power crept in until it surrounded them. A different kind of pain enveloped Claire—the pain of remembering what she had been, before pride tore it from her.

“You are of the first.” His whisper brushed over her, awe and reverence like a balm. “You are of the fallen. I am not—”

“You are more than worthy.” She let go of his wrist, cradled the back of his head. It took all the courage she had left to meet his eyes. “You are precious, Zach—they have no idea, because they don’t understand what it is to feel, to care, to think for themselves. And you are more valuable, closer to human, because you do understand.”