Rest For The Wicked (2 page)

And then he saw her. His body froze, his heart pounding so hard he expected it to burst apart against his ribs.

She stood outside a small store across the street, arms crossed, a smile on her face as she talked to a young couple.

Claire.

Just her name made Eric itch for the knife strapped to his calf. He didn’t remember where he got it; he only knew it would hurt her, kill her. And that was all he wanted. For Katelyn. He hoped that he would die in the process, because to live with the agony clenching his gut would be unbearable.

Yes, he would make sure her death cost his life.

His gaze moved past her, to the lettering on the store window. The Wiche’s Broom: catering to the dabbler and the devout.

God protect me—

He didn’t expect her to flaunt her power, to make her living on the pain of innocent people.

“Not for long. I promise you, bitch, it won’t be for long.”

“What was that, young man?” He jumped at the harsh voice that came from somewhere near his elbow. An ancient woman stared up at him, her dark brown eyes narrowed. “Who would you be swearing at?”

 “Not you, ma’am.” He flashed her a smile. “You caught me. I came to see an old girlfriend, hoping she’d be miserable without me. Turns out I was wrong.”

“You don’t need to worry that handsome head.” Spindly fingers clutched his arm. He wanted to jerk away, to cross the street and bury his knife in the murdering bitch. “You just head over to The Wiche’s Broom, and Claire will set you up with a nice love spell. Your girl won’t stand a chance.” She winked at him, and it took every ounce of control he had not to recoil. “Don’t tell her I sent you. She likes to think she brings in business on her own.”

The woman finally let him go, and made her way to the bakery two doors down, screeching at anyone who got in her path. Eric lifted one hand and brushed hair off his forehead. He was sweating, his hand shaking, his control slipping.

He didn’t remember how he got to Santa Luna, this insignificant beach town. He found himself gripping a key, soaked in sweat and standing in the middle of a strange hotel room. Now all he wanted to do was kill the woman who smiled, who breathed, who lived when Katelyn was dead.

She waved to the couple and turned away from the street, stepping back into her store. Now. He could take her now—

A laughing group of teenage girls ran in front of him and straight into the store. Rage blinded him—until a car horn jerked him around. He stood in the street, and people stared at him. Lowering his head, he moved to the sidewalk, kept going until he was safely around the corner. He leaned against the stucco wall of a gallery, clenched his shaking hands.

He couldn’t draw attention to himself. He had to kill her quietly, get it over with before she—

Agony burst through his head, nearly doubled him. Clutching the wall, he inched himself up.

“Hey, man—you okay?” Strong hands grabbed his arm. He blinked his eyes clear, met the concerned gaze of a sixty-something hippie. “Thought you were gonna do a face plant right here.”

“Let me go.”

The man retreated from Eric’s raw fury. Eric felt the darkness that coiled in him, around him, fought to rein it in. That dark fury was meant for only one person.

“Hey.” The man raised his hands in the universal I’m-not-going-to-hurt-you gesture. “Just trying to be the good Samaritan, man.”

“Then tell me where I can find the nearest bar.”

The hippie raised his eyebrows, but he kept from commenting on Eric’s condition.

“Cross the street. Hotel restaurant’s got just what you need. Hey.” Eric turned on him, fists clenched. “Take care, man.”

He let out his breath, and some of the rage went with it.

“Thank you. Sorry about—sorry. Bad day.”

“I hear you. Get a good drunk on, sleep it off. Tomorrow you’ll be a new man.”

Nodding at Eric, he walked around the corner.

Eric sagged against the wall, pushed sweat-damp hair off his forehead with shaking fingers. The back of his t-shirt was soaked through, clammy against his suddenly cold skin.

Exhausted, he had no strength to fight the grief that reared up to replace the rage, clawing at his heart. By tomorrow he wanted this to be done.

By tomorrow, he planned to be dead.

“
A
nd who told you I do love spells?”

Claire studied the chattering girls, hands on her hips in mock disapproval. The chatter died down, some of them looking at each other, some at the floor. One girl shuffled her foot against the hardwood floor before finally working up the courage to speak.

“Ms. Macey.”

“Mildred?” That ancient sneak. Claire wondered how many other people she handed that whopper to today. She knew she would be finding out—one at a time, all day long. “I want you to listen, girls. Love spells are for lonely, desperate people. You want the boy of your dreams to notice you, am I right?”

They all nodded, their eyes wide. A couple smiled, realizing she included Mildred in that description. Claire tapped her lips with one finger to hide her own smile.

“Now, I may not be able to offer a love spell, but I can give you each something that will make you shine. Come on over and let me show you my latest acquisition.” Claire led them over to the jewelry counter, pointed out the chunky heart pendants. “Pick the one that jumps out at you—that’s important. And on special, for the next five minutes—one free to a customer.”

The squealing should have shattered her front window. Smiling, she stepped back and let them crowd around the display, their voices dancing through the air. Claire wanted to preserve the moment, so she could take it out and relive it from time to time. Her own teen years had been rough—which made gifting the pendants to these girls all the sweeter. It would make a memory they could carry, along with the heart.

Annie stepped into the shop, and Claire mouthed the words “love spell” over the lowered heads. Guilt flared across her friend’s face; Claire made a mental note to watch her over the next couple of days. Annie had a soft spot for the lovelorn.

She met Claire at the front counter, radiating sunshine in her yellow sundress, short blonde curls framing her face. “How’s business?”

“Insane. I keep telling myself every year that I will get ready for this months in advance. It hasn’t happened yet.” She leaned on the counter, grateful for the break. “Is it crazy out there?”

“I’ve been groped, propositioned, and whistled at more times than I can count in just the last block. I think I also got a marriage proposal, but the proposer was so drunk I couldn’t understand a word of it.” A smile lit up her face. “Best day of the year so far.”

Laughing, Claire shook her head. “Whatever did I do before I met you?”

“Lived a life of pain and boredom.” Her smile faded. “And that cut too close to the truth. I’m sorry, honey—I’m drunk on energy. You know I don’t mean—” She turned to the door as the bell jingled, and sucked in her breath. “Oh, hurt me. Hunk alert.”

Fussing at her hair, Annie sauntered toward the man standing just inside the doorway. Claire could see the appeal—tall, lean but well muscled, with eyes that looked like striated jade. The black shirt and jeans simply accentuated his assets. Curling brown hair brushed his cheek as he smiled down at Annie, topping her almost six feet by a good three inches. Then he glanced over at Claire.

Light radiated from him, shimmered around him. A light Claire knew he let only her see. A light she had seen once before. Anger swept through her, and she moved toward him. The anger spiked when she saw the silver that winked at his ear, through his wild, curling hair. A hamsa—an ancient protection symbol. That confirmed her suspicion—and her need to get him out. Now. She would be damned if she let one of his kind manipulate her again—

The vision smacked her, so sudden she couldn’t defend herself against it.

Sun and sand filled her mind, wind whipping around a stooped figure as he fought his way through the sandstorm, blood staining his chest, what had been his life torn from him—

Claire jerked herself out of the vision, gripped the counter. Those gold laced eyes studied her, every inch of him unaffected. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and the pain, the grief she felt in the vision flared across his face.

The moment passed, and his attention returned to Annie, who chatted and laughed, not aware of the light, the power that surrounded him. Claire pushed off the counter, determined to get him out before Annie attached herself to him. She would find out later just what the hell a Jinn was doing in her town.

“Annie.” Her friend stared up at the Jinn, mesmerized. “
Annie
.”

Jerking around, she looked dazed. “What—” The bell over the door rang, and Annie swung toward the sound, frowning at the empty doorway. “Where did he—what was I just—Claire?”

“It’s all right, Annie.” Claire moved to the front window, and spotted him, opening the driver’s door of a sleek black Jaguar parked across the street from her shop. He met her gaze, then slid in and slammed the car door.

Annie was staring at Claire when she turned away from the window. “I was—just talking to someone, right? I know I was talking to—a man—”

“Help me pretty up these pendants.” Rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, Claire moved around the counter, pulling out the fancy moon and stars paper, along with a handful of jewelry boxes. “Come on—I don’t want to keep my best customers waiting.”

The giggles made her smile—and distracted Annie. They wrapped each pendant, adding a waterfall of curling ribbon. Claire presented the gift to its new owner with a flourish. After the last of them left the shop, Annie asked the question Claire had been waiting on.

“Who the hell was that man?”

“Did he tell you his name?” Claire cleaned up the wrapping mess, using it as a way to stall.

“I don’t remember a single word. Just the way he looked at—you.” Her head snapped around, brown eyes narrowed. “He talked to me, but he wanted to be talking to
you
.” She rubbed her forehead. “Why can’t I remember what he looks like? I barely remember talking to him—”

“Don’t worry, Annie.” Claire touched her shoulder, and did what she hated most. She manipulated Annie’s memory. “Go on—enjoy the rest of the festival. I’ll meet you tonight over at Billie’s.”

Annie’s eyes glazed over—then she smiled, her bouncy self again.

“Okey dokey. Sit down for a while, Claire. You look wiped. I’ll see you tonight!”

Claire waited until the door closed, then sank to the chair, her head pounding. What she did took more out of her than it should have, and the sudden, debilitating pain scared her.

She could cover, for a while. With some crystal healing, energy smoothies from the juice bar down the street, more sleep. But part of her knew, had known for a while, that her time here was ending.

Claire pushed herself up and reached for the amethyst sitting next to her computer. The moment her fingers closed over the smooth oval stone, heat radiated up her arm. The headache eased, enough for her to think about going out. She decided to have one of those energy shakes now; it would keep her going until after she met up with Annie at Billie’s Pub.

Slipping the amethyst in the front pocket of her pants, she made a mental note to start wearing her amethyst pendant. It would help boost her energy a bit, if nothing else. She pulled open the shop door—and ran straight into the Jinn.

*

E
ric slammed down his fifth shot of whiskey. His throat burned, his stomach felt raw, and the grief still tore at him. So he ordered another shot and dug down for the rage.

It came to the surface easier now, with all the whiskey running through his system. But it didn’t, it couldn’t, shut down that last image of Katelyn—

“Hi, Billie. One of the usual, por favor.” Eric lifted his head at the voice, met the eyes of the tall, perky blonde standing next to him. And pain bored through his skull. “Whoa—I’ve got you. Easy now, handsome. Just hang on to me if you need to.”

Her touch ignited fire in his veins. Eric yanked out of her grip and stumbled away from her. She radiated life. And her light seared through the darkness clutching his soul like a flaming torch.

He shoved his way past the people staring at him. Cold air slapped him as he hit the sidewalk. It didn’t quench the fire. And the source followed him.

“Are you okay?” Her gentle hands burned when they touched him. The part of his mind not screaming to kill her understood why. She was goodness, purity. All he had inside him was the hate, the rage, the grief that forced him to move forward. “Sit down, right here’s fine. Nice, solid sidewalk.”

“Please—” The word scraped up his raw throat. “Get back—before I hurt you.”

Surprise flared in her eyes.

“Why would a hunk like you resort to violence when all you’d have to do is smile?”

Something choked him. Laughter. He never thought he’d laugh again. Then he doubled over when agony exploded in his head.

She caught him, eased him to the ground, touched his forehead. “You’re ice cold. I’m getting you to the hospital.”