Carry On Wayward Son (3 page)

Claire shook her head and skirted the counter, pulling out her costume for the day. When she appeared wearing the veiled witch’s hat and velvet cloak, Annie burst out laughing.

“Great minds think alike.” Leaning in, she poked at one of the plastic spiders caught in the net veil covering Claire’s face. “Nice touch. Skin crawling, but nice.”

“I thought so.” Claire reached under the counter, grabbed the already full bowl of candy—and spotted the extra-large smoothie sitting on the granite, along with a sandwich that could have fed both of them. “Is that just breakfast? Or can I spread it out?”

“Aren’t you the funny girl today?” Annie slid the smoothie forward, smiled over it. “Breakfast.” Then the sandwich. “Midmorning snack. We’ll talk about lunch—I’m thinking the twelve ounce porterhouse from Billie’s Pub—”

Claire nearly choked. “Twelve ounce—”

“With the extra portion of wedge fries.”

“Heaven above, Annie.” She shook her head. “You’ll be rolling me out of here in a week.”

“Ah—but you haven’t heard the rest of my master plan. Tomorrow: salad day, with some fish on the side. Then we bulk the next day. It goes on, trading off heavy with light. And you spend more time with your sensei, building up your strength along with your fighting skills.”

“Okay. A master plan.” Claire rubbed her face. “Do you have charts?”

Annie grinned. “And a graph.”

Laughter burst out of her. It felt good to laugh again. Really laugh. She planned on doing a great deal of it. “Can you open up? I know it’s a few minutes early, but I’m in the mood for people, and some fun.”

“You’re the boss.” With the cloak swirling around her, Annie strode over to the door—and jumped backward when it burst open just after she flipped the deadbolt. “Son of a—hey, are you okay?”

Claire took off her hat and moved to the door, understanding Annie’s question when she saw the woman’s face. She wrapped one arm around the trembling shoulders, led her to the reading table at the back of the shop and lowered her to the one of the chairs. Kneeling in front of the woman, Claire took her hand.

“Just relax, now. Take your time—you’re safe here.”

Dark brown eyes stared at her, nearly black in her shock pale face. Swallowing, she clutched Claire’s hand, her voice so low Claire had to lean in to hear it.

“I don’t know if you remember me—my name is Regina, my daughter and I come into your shop every year, during the Summer Solstice . . .”

“The festival. Yes, I remember.”

Some of the panic eased from her face. “My daughter, Hillary, loves it here so much—I’m recently divorced, and we decided to make a new start. I bought the big Victorian on the hill—”

“The devil house?” Annie shrugged when they both looked up at her. “Sorry—just popped out. We all thought it was haunted when we were kids. The man who lived there—Mr. McCarran—completely creeped me out.”

Claire raised her eyebrows, decided to save the tongue lashing for later. “Are you quite finished?”

“I just thought you might—yeah.” Hunching inside the cloak, she crossed her arms.

Claire almost smiled—until she turned back and met Regina’s eyes. “Children’s tales, Regina, nothing more—”

“I think she may be right.” Her grip on Claire’s hand became a vise, the rings Claire wore digging into her skin. Ignoring the flare of pain—she had felt worse, not so long ago—Claire sandwiched her hand. “Oh, God—what if she’s right?”

“Take a breath, Regina. That’s it.” Claire couldn’t use her power to soothe anymore, so she used her voice, her tone gentle, soothing as she talked Regina down from a panic attack. “Slow breaths, just focus on each one.” The death grip on her hand eased. “Now, tell me what brought you here.”

“I heard,” embarrassment flashed over the fear, “that you can see ghosts, sense them.”

Claire didn’t know how, but what happened up in Huntsville leaked out, and she instantly became the resident ghost expert, along with Simon. To say his church board was not happy would have been a gross understatement. But his congregation already adored him, and to a person, stood in his defense.

“I can. What is—”

“It’s my daughter, Hillary.” Tears slid down Regina’s face. Claire tightened her grip. “I think—oh, God—I think she might be haunted.”

Claire took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time, since word got out, that someone came to her swearing their house, husband, son, dog was haunted. This was the first time she believed. “Where is Hillary?”

“Out in the car.” Tears slipped down Regina’s face. “I had to drag her out. Whatever is in there—in my house—it wouldn’t let go—”

Claire pulled Regina into her arms when the woman started sobbing, looked up at Annie.

“I’ll lock the front door,” Annie said. “Pull my car around.”

“Thank you. Regina,” she leaned back, gently brushed the woman’s shoulder length black hair off her damp cheek, waited until the dark, drenched eyes met hers. “We are going to help you, any way we can. I want you to go with Annie, and wait for me outside your house. Outside—don’t go in, or even leave the car. Do you understand?”

“You believe me,” Regina whispered.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank God.” She hugged Claire, so tightly her still healing body ached. “Thank you, thank you—”

“We’d better go.” Claire let out a breath when Regina freed her, used the arm of the chair to help her stand. Kneeling for too long left her right leg stiff. The other woman noticed, offered her arm. “Thanks—I’ll be fine once I start moving. Here comes Annie.” Claire led her to the back door. “Remember—wait for me, no matter what you hear or see. I will be right behind you.”

Annie popped out of her car, gesturing to the back seat. A young girl huddled next to the window, pale and drawn, with the same straight black hair as her mother, falling in a dark waterfall to her waist. She looked nothing like the lively girl who danced with Annie in her shop during the solstice. Regina let out a low cry and rushed forward, climbing into the back seat.

Blonde curls blowing around her face in the rising wind, Annie strode to Claire, pulling her jacket closed against it. “You think this is the real deal.”

“Can you look at the girl and not think so?”

“She just cries, Claire. Silent, those tears slipping down her face. It rips me.” She wiped her eyes, impatient. “You heading over to Simon’s?”

“For supplies, yes. I know—iron and salt don’t hurt me anymore. Old habit. I can’t seem to keep them where I live. He stores a duffle for me at the rectory.” She laid one hand on Annie’s arm. “Take them over, and stay in the car. I’ve already told Regina to stay put once you get there. I want you to do the same—I don’t care what show it puts on. Wait for me.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” With a salute, Annie strode around the car, pausing next to the open door. “But if you think you’re going in alone, start rethinking. It’s time for you to realize you don’t have to wade through this crap alone anymore. See you there.”

Claire watched her drive away, her usual departing squeal exchanged for a more sedate pace. Sighing, she ran one hand through her hair, still surprised when she met the ends just below her shoulders. It was growing, slower than she was used to, and she hadn’t made up her mind about whether or not to let it keep on.

She hadn’t made up her mind about several issues. And she was about to face one of them.

Ducking inside, she traded her cloak for a jacket, grabbed her purse, and locked the back door. If she timed it right, Simon wouldn’t have a chance to ask the question he asked every time he saw her now: who was she? A question she had no idea how to answer.

*

“
S
imon?” Claire poked her head in the open doorway, let out her breath when she didn’t see him. Relief had her moving quickly; she grabbed the duffle out of the hall closet and headed back to the door.

“Am I missing an adventure?”

The deep voice halted her midstep. Turning, she found Simon Asher standing in the hall, arms crossed, a smile on that sinfully handsome face. “Just another alleged haunting. I wanted to be armed—in case this one played out differently.”

“Did anyone ever tell you lying is not your best talent?”

“Not until now.”

Laughing, he moved to her, looking more like the cop he used to be, with his short, sun-tipped hair, tight black t-shirt and jeans, and less like the priest he was now. “What and where?”

“It’s nothing—”

“Not leaving until you tell me.”

With a sigh she looked up at him. At nearly six foot two, he had a foot on her, and he used it to his advantage—more often than she liked. “A customer thinks her house is haunted. I don’t need your help to check out a house.”

Simon shook his head. “You really are a lousy liar.”

“Damn it—she thinks her daughter is haunted, and I believe her. Satisfied?”

“For now.” Her stomach clenched as she waited for the inevitable question. Instead, he strode across the room and picked up his cell. Relief left her lightheaded. “I know one person who can help, if it’s true.”

“Theresa.” The young woman she had left in Huntsville, grieving for the father she lost to a vengeful ghost. “I don’t want to—”

“She offered her assistance, anytime, when we said goodbye. She feels like she owes you, for what she did.”

Claire rubbed the bridge of her nose. “She owes me nothing. But you can call her. If anyone can peg ghost possession, it would be her.”

She headed for the door—and froze on the threshold when Simon spoke. “Next time, Claire, we talk. No excuses.”

Afraid to look at him, she nodded. And made her escape.

THREE

A
nnie waited outside the gorgeous, sprawling Victorian, keeping her eye on her passengers in the rearview mirror.

The girl clung to her mother, still crying in that silent, gut-wrenching way. It made Annie want to skewer whatever scared her.

With a sigh, she pulled her cell out of her oversized bag and speed dialed Eric, smiling when he answered. God, she loved his voice—low and quiet, with a hint of sexy as it slid over her name.

“Annie—where are you?”

“Hey, handsome.” She got out of the car and shut the door, leaning so she could still see Regina and her daughter in her peripheral vision. “We have another ghost sighting, so there’s a good chance I’m going to be late for lunch.”

“Need any help?”

Just like that, he accepted without question. Was it any wonder she loved him? “Claire and I have it covered. I’ll call you when we’re done—she closed the store for the day, so a late lunch can stretch into some afternoon nookie.”

His laughter warmed her. “You are always a surprise, blondie, and a delight. Go slay your dragon. I’ll keep the home fires burning.”

“I wouldn’t object to seeing you stretched out naked in front of that fire when I walk in the door.”

He choked. “God help me—get here as fast as you can.”

“Your wish is my—here comes Claire. You can finish that sentence when I get home. Think of a few creative endings. Love you.”

“Love you back.”

She ended the call, smiling at the edge in his voice. She’d smooth it out when she saw him again. And happily take the rest of the day to do it.

Claire’s sporty little two-door eased to a stop behind her car, made it look stodgy in comparison. She replaced the hatchback that her cousin Natasha sent into the San Francisco Bay with a car that couldn’t have been more opposite from that sensible four door. Annie figured it helped her forget the horror, and the woman who died there, just a little.

She moved forward as Claire stepped out, hefting the now familiar green duffle. “No Simon?”

“I told him we could handle this one. He’s calling Theresa.”

“What the hell for?” Claire raised one eyebrow, and Annie dialed down the irritation. “I just don’t think—she would have hurt you, killed you—”

“She was possessed, and you know that. Annie—you of all people should be more understanding. After all, your best friend is a demon.”

She stared at Claire. This was the first time her friend ever said it out loud like that.

“I don’t—I don’t know what to say.”

“What do you know—I stumped the smartmouth. I’d call that an accomplishment. We will finish this long before Theresa gets here, so don’t get your nose out of joint. And stop swearing under your breath,” she said, leaning back into the car. “I can hear you.”

Annie let out a strangled sound. “Always? Since I’ve known you?”

Straightening, Claire tucked her keys into her purse and swung it over her shoulder. She handed the duffle to Annie, amusement in her blue eyes. “It’s a gift.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry—you weren’t too over the top. Most of the time. Now pick your jaw up off the ground and let’s get this done.”

Claire touched her arm as she passed, and paused long enough to wink at her. Annie pushed curls off her forehead. “I was right—you have been hanging around me too long.”

*

T
he terror pouring off Hillary had Claire sliding into the back seat next to her. Huddled in her mother’s arms, the girl curled in tighter at Claire’s presence.

“Hillary.” Keeping her voice quiet and gentle, Claire curbed her need to comfort. “My name is Claire. Do you remember me? I own the witch shop in Santa Luna—”

“You’re the good witch,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder, just long enough for Claire to see the anguish in her soft brown eyes.

“That’s right. And your mom asked me to help you. To help find out who has been frightening you.”

“I’ll have to go back inside, won’t I?”

Unable to stop herself, Claire gently rubbed the girl’s arm. “Can you do that?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hillary—”

“It’s okay, Mom.”

Regina grabbed her arms when she started to pull away. “I will not let you—”

“I’m the one being haunted. I’m the one who can’t sleep cause there’s a voice whispering in my ear.” She kept talking over Regina’s gasp. “I can’t be afraid anymore, Mom—I can’t.” Turning to Claire, she wiped at the tears on her face, took in a shaky breath. “What do I do?”