Carry On Wayward Son (15 page)

Annie whistled. “Smart.” The bell over the door rang, and she straightened. “I’ll take care of them. You go relax, have a nice long lunch with your son.” She smiled. “I can’t get over how much I enjoy saying that.” Turning to the door, she halted, cursing under her breath.

Claire looked over at the door, and covered her smile with one hand. Mildred tottered in, clutching a tarot deck. Moving around the counter, she touched Annie’s arm. “I can take care—”

“Nope. You have Zach and lunch. I’ll fall on my sword.” Pasting on a smile, she cut Mildred off. “Did we have an appointment today? I must have missed writing it down.”

“I wanted Claire to—”

“I’m afraid she has another appointment—oh, and there he is now.”

Zach burst through the door—and skidded, blue eyes widening when he spotted Mildred. Claire took pity on him; his ears were probably still blistered from his last run in with her. The older woman didn’t appreciate his youthful exuberance, and let him know. At the top of her lungs. Claire had heard her halfway down the block, and run, knowing instinctively Zach had something to do with it.

“Zach—if you can take that into the back room, I would appreciate it.” She winked as he walked past. Her heart warmed at the smile flashing across his face. “I am so sorry, Mildred. I have a prior engagement. Annie will be happy to give you your first tarot lesson, if that’s why you’re here.”

“She can’t read cards worth spit.”

“And I never get tired of hearing it.” Maneuvering her away from Claire and toward the  reading table, Annie glanced over her shoulder and mouthed three words. “You owe me.”

Yes, I do.
Smiling, she headed back to have lunch with her son.

*

L
ights glittered in the trees lining Forest. Claire loved Christmas, and Santa Luna dressed up for it, with strings of lights, a giant Christmas tree just off the boardwalk, carolers roaming the streets, charming winter tourists and locals alike.

Huddled in her coat, she walked along the boardwalk, and stopped when she saw him, sitting at the stone and tile chess table, facing the beach. She swallowed and kept moving forward, until she stood just feet away.

“Merry Christmas, Simon.”

His shoulders tensed under the pea coat he wore against the cold whipping off the water.

She expected him to simply walk away when he stood. He surprised her by stalking over and trapping her against the high back of the stone chair.

“What do you want with me?”

His anger was a refreshing change from the dead stare he usually gave her if they crossed paths. Claire took in a shaky breath.

“A truce.” He raised his eyebrows. “I want to walk in my own town and not be afraid to run into you, or worry each time I enter a shop, or look out a window, that I will have to avoid you.” She closed her eyes briefly, the last weeks weighing on her heart. “I’m tired of your scorn, Simon. Not so much for myself, but it’s affecting Zach, and I won’t tolerate him being hurt by you.”

He pushed away, ran one hand over his hair. “You care about the kid.”

“I am madly in love with him. And you would be as well, if you gave him a chance—”

“He’s an abomination—”

“He’s an innocent, Simon.” She grabbed the front of his coat before he could escape. “Zach remembers nothing from before—and I am eternally grateful for that. Do you have any idea what he escaped? Being sent Between is punishment for mortals, a chance to redeem their soul for what they did in life. But Zach never lived; his punishment was to be forever, because he wanted life.”

“He had bliss, Claire. The blessing of—”

“Don’t say it.” She let him go and moved away. “I was there, Simon. And I do remember—everything.” He flinched, his hands shaking as he straightened his coat. “You wanted my story—well, here is the rest of it. I tried to save the girl whose soul originally filled this body. She died in my arms, and I took it over, to have the chance to atone for what I had done, what I was. And I did. For more than eighty years I lived as good a life as I could, helped people when they needed it, and buried my past so deep I nearly forgot.”

“Claire—you don’t have to—”

“Let me finish. Please.” Simon nodded, his face in shadow. Not being able to see his reaction made it easier for her to let the words spill out. She wiped at the tears staining her face, surprised by them. “When you met me, I had just been sent back from the threshold of Hell, by my master, my brother, Azazel. I pulled the demon who possessed my cousin through the gate she opened. The demon who killed at least three people and threatened the lives of my friends, along with every soul in this town. My town. Everything I had left, every bit of power Azazel locked behind the wall is gone. I gave it all to Zach, to save him. I am as human as I will ever get.”

With a sigh, Simon stepped forward, until the light from the nearest streetlamp touched his face. The conflicting emotions that darkened his green eyes tore at her. “What you were, Claire, no matter how clean you try to wipe that slate, collides with every belief I stand for. Every word I speak to my congregation. I can give you the truce you want, simply because it hurts me to feel this way. But I can never be friends with you. I hope you understand.”

He reached out, closed his hand in a fist before his fingers touched her. Then he turned around and walked out of her life.

Again.

EIGHTEEN

C
laire stood at the window of her shop, smiling as she watched last minute shoppers hustle through the twilight. Christmas Eve always had an urgent feel to it for retailers; that final surge of desperate people needing to find the perfect gift on nearly empty shelves.

The first time she experienced this phenomenon as a shop owner, Claire scheduled a second shipment of her most popular stock, to be delivered on December 23. She always cleaned it out by five pm on Christmas Eve. And this year had been even more successful.

Zach joined her at the window, draping one arm across her shoulders. He already stood eye level with Annie at nearly six feet, and the yoga he practiced with surprising discipline began to fill him out.

“That was some crazy action today. I didn’t think you could cram so many people in the shop at once.”

She laughed, wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned into him. “It was something. I believe I even rendered Mildred speechless with the Christmas gift.” The thought of the old woman at a loss for words widened her smile. “So, son of mine—are you ready for our celebration?”

“Can you give me a minute? I have a surprise for you.”

He kissed her cheek and dashed off before she could open her mouth to say yes or no. Chuckling, she watched him disappear into the back of the shop, went back to her window gazing. And grabbed the wide sill when she saw Marcus standing just outside.

Her heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe, she moved to the door and opened it.

“Hello, Claire.” His deep, sand rough voice wrapped around her. And the ache sitting behind her heart finally let go.

“Marcus.” It took every ounce of control not to jump him right there, in the doorway. In front of every passerby. “Please, come in.”

She stood aside, let him walk past her, closed the door and faced him. He swept her into his arms before she could take in another breath.

“Gods—I never thought to touch you again.” He tightened his grip on her. Claire simply held on, pressing her face in his throat. His scent filled her, musk and spice, with the edge of heat. She lifted her head and he met her lips in a kiss that burned through all the grief of the last months. Breaking off, he rested his forehead against hers. “How are you?”

His casual question startled a laugh out of her. “At this precise moment, stunned.” She leaned back, met his eyes. Gold striated the jade, richer and deeper than she’d ever seen it. “How?”

“You remember.”

“I’d hardly forget watching you all but condemned to death. Jamal made certain I didn’t lose any of it.”

“Typical.” He lowered her to the floor, but kept his arms around her. “He wanted you to remember him.”

“It worked.” And so did the curse/gift he gave her when he cracked the wall to her power. It gave her Zach— “Heaven above—”

She pulled herself out of Marcus’ embrace just as Zach came bounding back into the front of the shop. He skidded to a halt, his smile disappearing.

“Hi.” His quiet voice was anything but welcoming.

Letting out her breath, Claire stepped between them, rubbed Zach’s arm. “Sweetheart, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Marcus.” She slid her hand down his arm and linked their fingers. “Marcus, this is Zach. My son.”

The two males stared at each other. Surprise flared in Marcus’ eyes; suspicion in Zach’s. After a silence that had Claire ready to say anything to break it, Marcus held out his hand.

“A pleasure, Zach.”

He glanced down at the offered hand, up at Marcus, back down at his hand. The manners Claire drilled into him had him accepting the handshake.

“How long have you known my mom?”

“We met—”

“Annie has invited us to a Christmas Eve dinner.” Panic had her interrupting before Marcus could answer. She still hadn’t figured out how much to tell Zach about his past, or how to explain a supposed gap of what he thought was sixteen years. “Would you like to join us, Marcus?”

“I would be honored.”

“Mom.” Zach tugged on her hand. “Mom—can I see you a minute? In private,” he said, his gaze skating over to Marcus.

“Of course. Will you excuse us?”

Zach practically dragged her into the back room. “Who is that guy?”

“A friend, just as I told you.”

“He looks at you like he—like—” Zach shoved one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other closing over the amethyst at his throat as he stared at his feet, hair curtaining his face.

“Like what, sweetheart?” Though she pretty much knew the what.

“Like he wants to kiss you!” He looked up at her through the curtain of hair. “Like Annie looks at Eric just before she—you know.”

“Kisses him?”

He made a face. “Yeah.”

“They love each other, Zach, and kissing feels good to them.” She brushed his hair back, lifted his chin. “It’s a connection, a way to show each other how much they care.”

“Like when you kiss me.” He smiled. “Only without the ick factor.”

“Zach.” She shook her head, tried not to smile, and failed. “Someday, you’ll want a girl to look at you like that.”
Please, God, let it not be soon.
“Now, you told me you had a surprise for me.”

His face brightened. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a small box, the bow lopsided and partly smashed. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Touched, she took the box, laughing as she pried the layers of tape off the sides. She lifted the lid, and tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Zach. It’s beautiful.”

On the black velvet lining the box lay an amethyst pendant. In the shape of a heart.

“Since you gave me yours,” he touched it again, ducking his head, one foot kicking at the floor. “I wanted to get you one. A special one. You like it?”

“I love it.” She pulled him in, kissed his cheek. “And I love you. Help me put it on.”

He lifted the smooth silver chain, the tiny links creating their own design. Standing behind her, he fastened the clasp, and the heart settled just below her collarbone. She touched the deep purple stone, beautifully streaked with white, and it warmed under her fingers.

“Let’s see.” He ran around to face her, and halted, his mouth dropping open. “Wow,” he said, staring at her. “Mom—it’s glowing.”

“What?” She moved to the small mirror above the utility sink. Under her fingers, the heart radiated a deep purple glow. “How—”

“I thought you said Annie was the witch.”

“She is.”

“Looks like you’ve got some power of your own.”

Blinking, she studied, the glowing crystal. She had always felt deep down connected to amethysts. Maybe—

Pushing away the useless hope, she held out her hand. Zach took it, let her pull him over to her. “Do you mind if Marcus joins us? He’s come a long way to see me, and he doesn’t know anyone else here. And it’s Christmas—”

“Okay, okay—stop laying on the guilt, Mom.” He tugged on her hand. “Can we go now? I’m starving.”

This from the boy who inhaled two huge roast beef sandwiches not two hours ago, along with most of her dessert.

“I hope you can last until we get to Annie’s.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh that had her laughing. “If I have to.”

Claire followed him out into the shop, and shooed him over to the rack behind the counter to grab their coats. Marcus waited for her, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in question.

“You are more than welcome to join us, Marcus.” Stepping closer, she touched his wrist. “Please—I will tell you everything, once Zach has gone to bed.”

Jade green eyes scrutinized, more brilliant against his sun-darkened skin. His hair was longer, gold weaving through the dark curls. And he looked—strong. Whole. The ugly whip mark she remembered was now a thin white scar on his left cheek, ending just above his jaw. It only made him more striking.

She wanted to touch him so much her body ached for it. Instead she stepped back, accepted her coat from Zach with a smile, and opened the front door.

“Shall we?”

*

“
A
ll right.” Marcus pulled her outside, after Claire checked on Zach for at least the tenth time to make sure he was asleep. He grabbed her hand and started walking in the direction of the shop two blocks away. “Start talking, Claire.”

She did, taking him through every event from the moment Regina burst into her shop. Without even thinking about it, she unlocked the back door, let them inside, and pulled bottled water out of the small fridge. They were sitting at the reading table when she reached the part about Zach.

“Wait.” He took her hands, lowered his head. Heat spiraled through her, so fast she held on to keep from sliding out of the chair. “You were wrong.” He raised his head. “The boy did not take all of your power. You don’t feel—hollowed out, you called it, as you did after Azazel returned you.”