A Gathering of Angels (16 page)

Simon sat at the kitchen table, his shirt off, bandages covering a good portion of bare skin. Lea hurried forward, helped her sit.

“I’ll get you something to eat. Stay put—you look exhausted.”

She looked at Simon. “Feeling better?”

“Give me six months to a year—I’ll get back to you.” He winced when Eric taped the bandage on his left forearm. “You’re leaving.”

“I think we’ve pretty much worn out our welcome.”

“Burned the welcome mat.”

She laughed—then groaned, pain flaring up her back. “I’m all right.” She waved Eric away. “Finish with him.”

Simon flashed her a grim smile. “Thanks.”

Her lips twitched. “My pleasure. What are you going to do now?”

“Bury our dead. Tend to the living. I will be busy for some time.”

She touched his right wrist—one of the few uninjured spots on his upper body. “When you get past the busy, I would like to show you my beach.”

“I could do that.” He cradled her cheek, his hand warm, calloused. “We all owe you a debt. Though most will never know it.”

“Better that way.” He nodded. “Bertram?”

He closed his eyes for a long moment. “Theresa is with him. I called the county sheriff—they should be on their way. And you should be gone before they get here.”

“We will be.”

Mindy Kay crossed over to the table, knelt beside Claire. “Thank you—for everything. You risked your life, knowing exactly what was after us.”

“I don’t stand by when I can help.”

Mindy Kay laid one hand on her knee. “You keep in touch, Claire. We’re not so far from your beach paradise.”

“You have an open invitation—all of you.” Before she could give in to the tears stinging her eyes, she stood. “Annie—can you help Marcus? We’re going to borrow your van, Simon. I will see that it finds its way back.”

“No,” he said, pushing himself up.

“But—”

“I will come get it myself.” He gathered Claire into his arms. They both groaned at the contact before he let go. “Now get out of here, before I’m forced to arrest you.”

Outside, sunlight pushed through the trees, sparkling in the mist that curled along the ground. Claire watched Annie and Eric load Marcus into the back of the van, settling him on a makeshift bed. She came back for Claire, wrapped one arm around her waist.

“Your turn.”

She guided Claire to the van, helped her climb inside. Claire watched the trio as they stood next to the cabin. Survivors, friends. Swallowing tears again, Claire raised her hand, not wanting to say the words. Never again wanting to say good bye.

FIFTEEN

C
urled up in Eric’s lap, Annie studied her engagement ring. It glowed, a soft, warm blue that spread its heat all the way to her toes.

Eric cradled her hand. “I picked the sapphire because I personally hate diamonds. Too cold. I had no idea—”

“That it would magnify my power?” She kept her gaze on the ring, afraid to see the doubt she expected in his eyes. “I’ve been reading up, and it can have some powerful mojo. It’s going to mean a giant step forward in my training—”

“Annie.” Eric lifted her chin, waited until she met his eyes. There was no doubt in the beautiful blue depths, only concern. “I walked into this relationship already knowing what you are—Claire told me, when I found out about her and Marcus.”

She swallowed, easing herself out of his grip and off his lap. “That explains your decided lack of surprise when Marcus spilled my secret. No—” She pulled away when he tried to put his arms around her. “You need to understand that I am a witch. Not a woman dabbling as a hobby. A witch, capital W, with all the possible and impossible nastiness.”

“I don’t—”

“If you’re going to walk away, do it right now. Because if you stay, it’s forever—even if I have to break my promise to Claire and throw a love spell at you to make that happen.”

Eric took her hands. “No love spell will be necessary.” She wanted to cry when he spread one of her hands over his heart, laid his on top of it. “You stole this from the first. No spell necessary. I don’t remember much from the time I was under Natasha’s influence. But I remembered you, blondie. I always remembered you.”

“Oh, damn—here come the tears.”

He pulled her forward, and she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Rubbing her back, he kissed the top of her head, her temple, then worked his way down until he reached the corner of her mouth. She turned her head so their lips met, and forgot her tears as she sank into the kiss.

Eric picked her up and carried her to the sofa, taking them back where they started, with her curled in his lap. She loved the fact that he could pick her up without any effort, loved that she could rest her head on his shoulder without leaning down. Hell, she just loved him, and was so grateful that he felt the same.

Kissing her forehead, he brushed her hair back, letting a curl twist around one finger. “How is Claire?”

“Much better.” Relief spread through her again, knowing it was true, and no longer a dream, a hope buried deep in her heart. “She’s coming back to the store tomorrow. First time since she’s been back.”

“Nervous?”

“Of course not.” He just looked at her. “Okay—yeah, maybe a little. A lot.” She slid down to the sofa next to him, leaned her head against the back. “It’s almost become my store the last couple of months. I don’t know how easy that’ll be to give up. But I am so glad she’s back I’ll walk away if that’s what she needs.”

“You’re a good friend, Annie.” He twined their fingers together. “And Claire knows how much you love her. If anything, I expect she’ll be thrilled with what you’ve done, and want you to stay.”

“From your lips.” She sighed, letting the nerves go. They would be waiting for her in the morning. “Now bring those lips on over here, and I’ll think about making you dinner.”

Laughter burst out of her when he tackled her—then she let out a shriek as they tumbled to the rug. In response, her ring flashed blue sparks. Eric caught her hand before she could hide it.

“I will always be amazed by that. And you having an accurate mood ring will be a real side benefit.”

“Smartass.” Her desire to smack him faded when he kissed her hand, the sparks dancing in his clear blue eyes. “It’s a good thing I love you, or you’d be toad bait right now.”

“A horrible and probably short fate avoided.” He kissed her hand again, used it to pull her in. “As a token of my eternal gratitude, I’ll be cooking you dinner.” A wicked smile crossed his face, sent a thrill shooting through her. “Later.”

“Keep looking at me like that, and it’ll be much later.”

His kiss just got interesting when the doorbell rang. Eric looked at her. “Expecting someone?”

“No—the address is so new hardly anyone knows I’m here.”

He lifted her up, pushed her toward the hallway. “Get in the bedroom, lock the door. You have 911 punched in, and hit send if you hear anything—”

“I’m not deserting—”

“It could be one of them, Annie. We don’t know the anger died with Jane—”

“I do.” He stared at her. “I felt it, when Claire toasted her. There was nothing left. Answer the door, Eric.”

He kept her behind him, slid the safety chain on, then inched the door open.

A familiar voice floated in, and she smiled.

“What took you so long? Damn, I didn’t interrupt you two lovebirds, did I?”

“Jeff?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Annie stepped in front of Eric. “Hi, Jeff—one second.” She shut the door and slid the safety chain off before pulling it wide. “Come in—it’s good to see you.” She raised one eyebrow as she looked over at Eric. “How did you know where to find us?”

“Mr. Organization.” He pointed at Eric. “Fired off a text, probably while you were still moving. It’s habit with us—I moved around so much with the Marines, first thing I always did was update him. The one or two times he uprooted, he did the same.”

“Please—sit down. We were just about to have dinner.” She heard Eric choke back a laugh. “Want to join us?”

“I’m here to take you out—for the promised champagne, and a bribe of dinner, so you all can tell me what really happened in that town. I know what they reported isn’t what went down.”

“Jeff—man, we can’t—”

“Invitation accepted,” Annie said. She held up her hand when Eric started to protest. “He’s your oldest friend, and he got us up there so we could help. I figure you’ll tell him eventually, so he might as well get the whole story while it’s fresh. And being—ex-military?” He nodded. “I’m thinking you can keep a secret. Besides, no one would believe you. That, or they’d give you a nice long stay in a pretty, white padded room.”

Jeff laughed, that brilliant smile she remembered transforming his rugged face. “This is going to be one hell of a story. I’ve got the champagne in my car, so we can order in. No eavesdroppers.” Taking Annie’s hand, he kissed it. “Good to see you again, darlin’. Eric, call back your wandering mind—you’ve got a story to tell. I’ll go get the champagne.”

He was out the door before Annie could do more than nod. She turned to Eric, and laughed; he looked shell-shocked. “Is your friend always so take charge?”

“Drill sergeant, Marines. So—yeah. Can we really tell him?”

She slipped her hand into his. “Do you trust him?”

“With my life.”

“Then, yeah.” She leaned in and kissed him. “We can.”

SIXTEEN

A
fter two weeks of not so forced bed rest, Claire stepped into her shop. Tears stung her eyes, lodged in her throat. It looked the same.

Standing behind the counter, Annie grinned. “Welcome back.”

“You didn’t—why didn’t you change anything?”

“Oh, there are little spots, here and there. You’ll see them when you look around. But you made this place what it is, and I figured why mess with perfection?”

With a watery laugh, Claire moved to her. Annie met her halfway, hugging her so tightly Claire could barely take in a breath. When she let go, Claire wiped at her eyes, started to touch things as she moved around.

Annie was right. Claire noticed where she expanded certain stock, condensed items that never sold well, and changed the flow just enough so the customers could impulse buy their way through the shop. Swallowing more tears, she halted at the back, pressed her fingers to her eyes.

She never expected to stand here again, to breathe in the scent of lavender and the subtle spice of incense. Coming home wasn’t real, until now.

“Hey—” One arm curled around her waist. More than anything, Annie’s acceptance of her left Claire speechless, and deeply grateful. “There’s someone here to see you.”

The smile should have warned her.

She stepped out of the back. Mildred toddled up to her, capturing her in a surprisingly strong embrace before Claire could escape, and started scolding the moment she let go.

“Where have you been all this time? Your assistant can’t read the cards worth spit, which means I’ve had to go to that snob Agatha over at The Witch’s Way, trying not to gag on all the patchouli she douses herself in.”

Claire couldn’t help herself. She let out a delighted laugh, took the old woman’s hands. “I’m happy to see you, Mildred. We will absolutely make an appointment for you.” With the ease of long practice, Claire guided her to the door. “I am back on full time starting tomorrow, so you come in then. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Claire closed the door and turned to Annie. “I should force you to do the reading, but since you apparently can’t read the cards worth spit, I suppose I’ll have to make the sacrifice.”

Annie bowed. “Thank you, my noble friend, for putting your head on the block for—uh-oh.”

Claire turned around, following Annie’s line of sight.  Her heart skipped when she saw Marcus standing outside the door.

The moment they returned to Santa Luna, he thanked Eric for tending him, refused to look at her, and climbed out of the van, walking away. Since then there had been nothing—no note, no phone call—nothing to let her know he was all right. Until now.

He wore his customary black, his left arm in a sling. She noticed the silver hamsa earring back in place, winking through his hair. His face was pale and remote as marble. Bracing herself, she opened the door and stepped aside.

“It’s good to see you, Marcus.” He looked down at her. None of the gold that marked his power laced the jade green eyes. “Did you want to sit—”

“I am no invalid.” More than anger snapped through his voice. It was the other that kept Claire from booting him out.

“Okay.” Annie moved around the counter, a too wide smile on her face. “Hey, Marcus. Missed you around here.” She backed across the shop. “I’m going to go somewhere, and do—something.”

Claire watched her best friend desert her—and did not blame her one bit.

With a steadying breath, she turned and faced Marcus. “The offer to sit was out of courtesy. I would do it even for a stranger.”

Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I seem to be offending everyone, even those strangers. Forgive me, Claire.” When he lowered his hand the anger was gone, replaced by a bone deep exhaustion.

“Sit. Now.” She led him to the reading table, then grabbed two bottles of water from the small fridge in the back room and—her leftover roast beef sandwich. An ache speared through her.

Setting everything on the table, she watched him take a long drink of the water, and smile when he opened the sandwich. “Please, tell me this is one of Lily’s creations.”

“The one and only.” He took a bite, humming with pleasure as he devoured the rest of it. Color returned to his face, and he eased back in the chair, tipping the bottle for the last of the water. “Better?”

He nodded, set the empty bottle on the table. “Claire—”

“No apologies, no explanations. What you endured was beyond enduring, and I am to blame for it.”

Marcus surged to his feet. “I have never—”

“And I am grateful—Marcus, no—”

He kept coming around the table and pulled Claire to her feet, right into his embrace. She held on, his body warm, strong, and no longer wracked by the poison that nearly killed him.