Carry On Wayward Son (11 page)

Sighing, Claire sandwiched his hand. “I have an idea. How many years?”

“Two hundred.” He jerked free, started to pace, and she saw the anger she thought she had managed to subdue flare around him. “Two hundred years of watching, with a wall between us, because I could not feel. I could not understand their joy, their sorrow, the random emotions they experienced every day. But I wanted to; it reached a point where I needed to. That was when they brought me home.”

He didn’t have to tell her what happened next. Claire understood now how he ended up Between. He asked to go back. To become one of them. That would have been tantamount to treason.

“Zach.” He turned around, and the anguish on his face tore at her. One of his perks, and punishments, of being Between was the ability to feel, just enough to interact with the people he was sent to help. “You have to be absolutely certain. Once I start, there is no turning back.”

“I have been certain—for every moment of the three hundred years I spent Between.”

Heaven above—
“You have been a guardian for—I am so sorry. But I needed to know this wasn’t a whim, a way to escape—”

“You have no right to accuse!” He leapt forward, his fury slamming into her a moment before he did. “You sinned, otherwise you would not be here. You feel, you laugh, cry, touch—and you freely offer to commit the greatest sin.” His breathing uneven, he let her go and backed away. “I want to be human, more than life. For that desire, I was punished, forced to live among the mortals, never able to be one of them. I can no longer bear the pain of it.”

“Zach.” Her heart ached for him. “I will help you, but you need to—”

“Free me, and they will no longer be needed. Until then,” he fisted his hands, visibly controlling his temper. “Until then, they are my leverage. And they stay.”

“Please. I already promised you—”

His fist clipped her jaw and knocked her into the wall.

He trapped her there, one arm braced on either side of her. “I know now that hurting you will do nothing to me in return.” Exhaustion draped him. “But I am desperate enough to harm them, regardless of the injury to me. Do not make it necessary.”

Pushing off the wall, he left her alone. Claire slid to the floor, dizzy and nauseous, her jaw throbbing. She cradled her head in both hands, careful to avoid what she knew would turn into an ugly bruise.
How could I have been so wrong about him?

She hoped Simon had broken his promise and stayed in the basement.

It was time to change tactics.

FOURTEEN

“
S
imon—I know you’re here.” Claire stepped to the floor of the basement, listening. “I need your help.”

He moved out of the shadow cast by a pile of boxes. “You know me too well. Can I say I told you—damn it.” Sprinting forward, he cupped her chin, careful to avoid the bruise she could already feel. “He did this.”

“It was my fault—I thought I had him pegged. I was wrong.” Flinching, she eased out of his grasp. “He has more rage built up than he can control anymore. I have to get the others out, before he explodes.”

“You need to go with them.”

“I can’t. Simon,” she held up her hand when he started to protest. “I made a promise, and if I can get them clear, I intend to keep it.”

“Even after what he did to you?”

“Especially after what he did.” With a sigh, she lowered herself to the bottom stair, dizzy again. “That rage inside him will just get worse, until he lashes out. And the punishment for that—I can’t leave him to that, not when I can prevent it. So, will you help me?”

Simon sat beside her, rested the shotgun across his thighs. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

Smiling, she leaned against him, relishing his friendship, his acceptance.

“Thank you.”

“So,” he said, meeting her eyes. “What’s the plan? I know you have one.”

“How do you feel about cat and mouse?”

“Depends. Which one am I?”

She laughed, fought the urge to take his hand. “I’m afraid you’re the mouse.”

“Figures.” Standing, he moved out of sight, returning with a roll of paper in his hand. “I snooped while you were off getting beat up by your angel.” He handed her the roll. “Floor plans.”

“Oh, Simon—you genius.”

“So I’ve been told. Are we safe here for a few?”

“Give me a minute.” Claire climbed the stairs, still surprised by her healthy leg. Whispering, she drew a sigil on the door, diverting anyone who walked near it. She wasn’t sure how long it would last, or if it would work at all, but it was better than hoping. “Okay.” She moved back down the stairs. “Let’s see the—what?”

Simon stared at her leg, then at her. “How.” He sounded like he already knew.

“Zach. He’s not a monster, Simon.”

“Just a pissed off angel who wants to become human. Right.”

She touched his wrist, the muscles under her fingers taut. “I know you don’t believe—”

“How can I, Claire?” Retreating, he paced into shadow, then stalked back to her. “What you tell me, what I see flies in the face of everything I believe. Everything I have placed my faith in. How can I reconcile that? It’s hard enough with my gift, knowing I am more oddity than priest to many of the people who walk into my church—”

“That is not true.” She stepped to him. “I saw how Regina looked at you. She trusts you, believes in you. As a man of God. I’m pretty damn certain she’s not the only one. I happen to be right there with her.” He blinked, surprise in the clear green eyes. “I trusted you the moment you knelt in front of me in the Huntsville police station. And I trust you more now. I trust you to help me save my best friend, and two innocent people.”

“Claire.” He took her hand, squeezing it. She held on, relief spreading through her. She had taken a big chance, facing off with him, but she had to be certain she knew his frame of mind. Letting out his breath, he freed her, handed over the shotgun. “I don’t believe the mouse runs around armed to the teeth.”

He pulled a small pistol from an ankle holster, reached around and produced a long knife sheathed in leather. She started to laugh when he dropped half a dozen other weapons at her feet.

“Were you a Boy Scout as well?”

“Got it in one. Be prepared served me well. Now,” he eased the plans out of her grip, knelt on the floor and unrolled them. “What trap is the mouse going to lead the cat into?”

*

C
laire checked for any sign of Zach, then motioned Simon up the stairs.

“You have the sketch of upstairs?”

“Yes, Mom.”

She smiled, touching his wrist. “Between you and Annie, I’ve racked up enough smart comebacks to last me the rest of my life. No—don’t take it back. It’s what I enjoy about both of you.” She retreated before embarrassment hit. “Avoid confronting him—he’s stronger than you think, and more angry than the first time he blasted you.”

“Right.” Simon ran one hand over his sun-tipped hair. “I’m still feeling that one. You get them out as fast as you can. Let me deal with keeping him off your back.”

They inched around the door, and Simon halted. Looking past him, she saw the reason. The shotgun, sticking out of the far wall like an abstract sculpture.

“Your angel?”

“A misunderstanding.”

“Right.” He leaned in, kissed her forehead. “For luck,” he whispered. “Now get.” Shotgun raised, he headed for the stairs.

Claire rubbed her arms, feeling a sense of foreboding as she watched him climb up and out of sight. The last thing she wanted to do was put him in the way of danger, but being her friend seemed to come with that condition.

Time to move.
She could have a pity party later, once they were all safe. With ice cream.

Wiping her damp palms on her trousers, she moved down the hall, motioned for them to all keep quiet as she entered the bedroom. Holding out her hand, she waited for Regina and Hillary to join her at the bed.

“Simon is here.” She kept her voice low. “We have a plan to get you out. But you have to be fast, and do exactly as I say. All of you,” she looked straight at Annie. “Simon is risking his life to create a distraction for us.”

Anger flashed in Annie’s brown eyes. “Who hit you, Claire?”

“It doesn’t matter. We need to go.”

“What about Zach?” She took Hillary’s hand, hearing the fear, the remorse in the girl’s voice.

“I’m going to help him. This wasn’t your fault, honey. You just happened to be the one he was sent to, that’s all. I’m thinking it was destined—because of you, he met me, and I can give him what he’s asking for. Now stay close to your mom. We have to move quietly, so I can hear what may be happening in front of us.”

She looked at Regina, who nodded, holding on to Hillary’s hand. Ready for a battle, Claire turned back to the bed.

“Okay, Annie, let’s—”

“You’re leaving me here.”

“Not on a bet.”

“You’ll move faster without me.”

“Yes, we will.” Leaning in, she framed Annie’s face with her hands. “And in spite of that, I’m not leaving you behind.” She managed to get enough of a smile from that to be encouraged. “I can’t predict what Zach will do next, and I won’t leave you to face him on your own. So let’s get you up, and get ourselves out of here.”

*

S
imon inched up the stairs, hugging the wall to lessen the inevitable squeaking from the old floorboards.

He used the slow climb to run the banishing through his mind, so it would pop out fast and ready when he needed it. Not telling Claire he still planned to use it had guilt scratching at him, but they couldn’t afford the time for the argument he was damn sure she’d lay on him.

He shrugged off the nagging sense that this Zach was more. Angels and guardians were for bedtime stories, and blasphemous or not, he always considered them a symbol rather than fact. Now he was about to find out the truth.

Pausing at the top, with the wall still hiding him, he listened for any sound, any movement. And heard nothing—which scared the hell out of him. He should have heard the walls settling, the wind outside pushing against the house. Something, damn it, instead of this bubble of unnatural silence.

Swallowing, he took a fast look around the corner, saw nothing. With a final check of his shotgun, he made his way into the hall, and toward the first door.

*

O
nce Claire got Annie upright, accompanied by a soundtrack of low-pitched cursing, she led them to the door and stopped, listening for anything. She didn’t feel Zach nearby, and Annie’s sapphire stayed quiet.

Leaning in, Claire whispered to Regina. “Can you watch Annie for me?”

“I don’t need—”

Claire held up her hand. “You move and fall, you make a noise. You try to keep from falling, you make a noise. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Annie bit her lip. “You really have been around me too long, Miss Sarcasm. I’ll stay put—but I hear anything resembling a struggle, I’m moving.”

“I never expected anything less.”

With a smile she started down the hall. It faded as she turned away from them, putting out every feeler she had. There was Simon, strong and edgy, just at the top of the stairs. And the three behind her. But she didn’t find Zach. She couldn’t feel any of his power, or even the echo of his presence.

He can’t be gone—he is as trapped as we are—

Moving across the living room, she headed for the last place she saw him—and froze when she heard a voice. Simon’s voice.

Floating down the stairs, it carried words in a language she had been created knowing. And the words caught her, wrapped her in dread.

“I invoke the power and authority of God.”

“No—heaven above, Simon, no—”

She hit the stairs running.

*

“
I
invoke the power and authority of God. This angel in your service—”

“You think that will work on such as me, mortal?” The voice caressed the back of Simon’s neck. He froze, needing to know exactly where his target stood before he could bring up the shotgun. “My brothers laugh at me, wonder why I want so badly to be one of you. This is the reason—to think for myself, act on a hunch, be an individual. No matter the consequences.”

He grabbed Simon and threw him against the far wall. Simon slammed into the plaster right side first, let out a low cry when impact blew out his shoulder joint. Again. Clutching his arm and fighting to stay upright, he watched his shotgun spin across the floor, out of reach, pretty sure it wouldn’t help him even if he had it.

Zach trapped him against the wall. “You are not protected by Claire’s appeal.” The nimbus of power around him nearly blinded Simon. “You can see it. My essence.” He leaned in, forcing Simon to close his eyes against the fierce white glow. “I have heard of you—those sensitive enough to see through the veil of illusion, to see the real under the mask.”

Fingers slid down his cheek, hot with that pure power. Simon swallowed, feeling helpless, utterly helpless for the first time since he was trapped under a broken Jeep in a blasted out village half a world away. The same shoulder that kept him from fighting his way out from under that Jeep throbbed with every breath.

He let out a gasp when Zach freed him, opened his eyes in time to see the other man clench his fist. Simon tensed, ready to defend himself—

Claire burst into the room, and with a wild cry, body slammed Zach. They crashed to the floor.

“Get out!” Her fist plowed into Zach’s gut. Simon flinched, and admired her technique. “Simon—get out of here! Get them out of the house!”

He felt like a coward for leaving her. But she seemed to be holding her own—she was beating the crap out of Zach.

It took him too long to get down the stairs, his shoulder screaming with every step. He stumbled into the living room, found Annie arguing, as usual, with Regina.

“Out. Now.” Annie glared at him, dialed it down to a scowl when her gaze reached his arm. “Claire’s giving you a window, so take it.”