Carry On Wayward Son (6 page)

Helpless to stop it, he braced himself for pain as it tossed him through the air.

*

C
laire froze, heat flaring from her amethyst.

“Annie, keep them inside the—”

A furious scream blasted them, bouncing off every wall. She felt power gather itself in, and understood what Zach meant to do.

God above—

The house shuddered, knocking them all off balance. Claire grabbed the wall, Zach’s rage pounding at her. She knew it was a fraction of his real power, and understood the rage was not directed at her.

Using the wall, she made her way to the nearest window—and saw two figures sprawled on the sloping lawn, weapons and the contents of a familiar duffle spread over the grass like discarded toys. Only the fact that it was the middle of a workday saved them from shocked witnesses.

“Simon,” she whispered. “What are you—stay here, Annie.”

She limped out of the bedroom. Zach appeared before she reached the stairs.

“You will order them to leave.” He trapped her against the wall, his rage swirling around him. She saw exhaustion slice through the rage, and his attempt to hide it. “They cannot be here—I will not have them here—”

“I will do it, if you do something for me.”

“You dare—”

“Yes.” She looked into the furious eyes, prayed what she remembered about guardians still held true. “I can ask for protection, even if that protection is from the guardian. And you are bound to grant the request. So I ask that you not harm the people you’ve trapped in this house, and that you let me help you. If you can let them go, it would—”

“They stay.” His flat, quiet voice scared her far more than if he shouted. “Do not ask for their freedom again.” With a sigh he stepped back, ran one hand through the thick, golden brown hair. “I never intended harm. I just need—” He swung away from her, but she could still see the anguish. It cloaked him, left her heart aching with the weight of it. “Tell the men to leave. I will give you the time to do so. If they do not—”

“I will make certain they leave.” She turned back to the bedroom, saw Annie in the doorway, Regina and Hillary huddled behind her. “Stay there. I won’t be long.”

“Eric is—”

“They’re leaving, Annie. I made a promise.” While she spoke she mimed writing with a pen.

“Got it,” Annie said. She disappeared, returning moments later with the ballpoint. “What are you—”

“Get back inside. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Claire—”

“Now.”

Anger snapped off Annie, but she obeyed, herding mother and daughter back inside. Claire expected her to slam the door, but it closed quietly. Which told her Annie was beyond pissed. Bracing herself for more arguing, she paused long enough to use the pen before she made her way down the stairs. Zach waited for her, opened the door as she approached. So much for direct warnings.

In the middle of the sloping lawn, Simon crouched over Eric. His head snapped around, and he pushed to his feet when he spotted Claire, his movements stiff. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine. It’s a—bit more complicated than I first thought, but Annie and I can handle things—”

“Like hell.” Anger sparked in the clear green eyes. “Whatever threw us across the lawn, whatever’s emitting power I’ve never seen before is more than a
bit
complicated. I’m not—”

“Simon.” She raised her left hand, kept it close to her side, where Zach couldn’t see it. “Please.” He glanced down at her hand, then back up to her face. She knew by the look on his face he saw the words she scribbled on her palm.
Leave—stay close—need you
. She hoped he understood what she tried to convey with the cryptic message. “Do you—”

“Got it.” His anger stung. And the fact she could see that anger still shocked her. “You don’t need my help, don’t want my help. We’ll clear out.”

“Simon—”

“I got it, Claire. No need to repeat yourself.” He nodded, once, backed across the lawn. Understanding broke through the anger. Relief made her knees weak. “Eric—we’re done here.”

“What the hell are you . . .” His voice faded when he saw Claire. She knew she looked—less than her best. Simon caught his arm, stopped him before he could rush the door, whispered to him. Eric stared at him, ran one hand through his sun streaked hair. “Hey, Claire.” She admired the casual tone, knew he used it to hide the fear she saw. “Can you tell Annie I’ll be with Simon?”

“I can do that. Thank you for checking on us.” She could feel Zach’s impatience pressing at her. “I’ll see you later.”

Closing the door, she leaned against it, heart pounding, and slipped her marked hand in her pocket before she turned to him. “Is that satisfactory?”

He moved to the window. She knew Simon and Eric would make a show of leaving, and if Simon understood what she meant, they wouldn’t go far. Not that they could do anything to help; but having them close made her feel—safer.

“They are leaving.” Zach sounded surprised, and relieved. With his guard down, Claire saw the fear edging his anger. She knew being stuck Between had its bad points, but his almost frantic need to be free of it had her wondering just how much things had changed.

“I gave my word, Zach.” He looked at her, and for a moment something familiar flashed behind his eyes. It disappeared before she could be certain. She prayed she had been mistaken. “I’d like to see to my friends.”

“No tricks. I know what you are.” Claire stilled, her breath frozen in her throat. “I can see the power of the witch radiating from you and your companion. Do anything, and I will harm—”

He clutched his throat as his voice choked off.

“It’s good to know the rules still work. Protection, Zach. I asked for it. You can’t threaten them.”

She left him standing in the living room, still speechless. And hoped he didn’t try to test the protection with her. She asked for the people trapped in the house. And she wasn’t one of them—not completely. Even with a soul.

*

A
nnie waited just inside the doorway, inches from smacking Claire with a shotgun when she stepped inside the bedroom.

“Holy hell—” Lowering the weapon, she stepped forward, eyes narrowed as she studied Claire. “You look terrible. What happened down there?”

“Simon and Eric were outside—they’re gone, Annie. And we can’t depend on their help.” She raised her left hand, let Annie see the scribbled message. Nodding, Annie swallowed, stuck the backup shotgun in the duffle and picked it up. “Regina, I want you and Hillary to stay here, inside the circle. No matter what you hear, I don’t want you to leave its protection.”

Regina nodded, Hillary pressed into her side. Stepping to the edge of the circle, Claire smiled down at her. “He won’t hurt you, sweetheart. He gave his word, and he is bound by it now.”

Hillary pushed away from her mother. “Then why do we have to stay here? I want to help.”

“Because I will feel better, knowing you’re here. And there are things we have to do, to keep ourselves safe. Things I don’t want you to be part of. Do you understand?”

“Yeah. You’re doing magic.”

Claire glanced over at her mother. Arms crossed, Regina frowned at Hillary. “You are one smart girl,” Claire said. “I bet your mom didn’t expect you to know. Yes, we are going to do a spell that will help us get out of here. And it is a scary one.”

“Even for you?”

Claire smiled. “Especially for me. Because I don’t like to do this kind of magic. The kind that forces someone else to do what they don’t want to do. It makes me feel—icky, right here.” She pressed one hand to her stomach. “You know that feeling?”

“Yeah. You don’t want me to feel it, do you?”

“I would never wish icky on anyone. We’ll get out of here before you know it. I promise, Hillary, nothing will happen to you or your mom.”

“Okay.” The trust Claire saw in those big brown eyes humbled her. With a nod, she headed for the door. “Claire?” She paused, glanced back at Hillary. “Be careful.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Before she could make a fool of herself she strode out of the bedroom, and into the bathroom across the hall. She scrubbed at the ink on her palm, careful not to get water on the leather band hiding her scarred tattoo. The weight of Hillary’s belief in her squeezed her heart. If anything happened to that girl because she screwed up—

“Claire!” Annie poked her head in the bathroom. “What are you doing? That bastard could just—”

“Annie. He can hear you.”

Letting out an impatient breath, she opened her mouth to make what Claire knew would be a smartass comment. When Claire shook her head, Annie huffed, stomping out of the bathroom. With a sigh, Claire followed her, into the small corner bedroom she planned to use for the spell.

Closing the door, she leaned against it. “You can’t throw out your usual sarcasm, not here. He won’t understand it.” She pointed to the pad and pen Annie dropped on the side table, started writing when Annie handed it over, still talking. “I want out of here as much as you do, but we have to play by his rules.”

Turning the pad, she let Annie read it.

Can you do the binding spell if I write it down for you?

Annie nodded, her sudden fear smacking Claire. “What does he want from us?”

Taking the pad, Annie scribbled, passed it back to her.

Afraid I’ll screw up.

“I wish I knew, Annie, beyond what he told us, about wanting his life back. And we can’t help him with that, whatever he may threaten.” She mouthed three words.
You’ll be fine.

Annie swallowed, nodded, fear in the warm brown eyes. And she started putting out the tools they would need to bind Zach, to try and keep him from doing them or himself any harm. Claire wasn’t certain it would even work. But she had to try.

SEVEN

“
W
hat the hell were you thinking?”

Eric slammed the door of the Jag and stalked toward Simon. They had driven around the block after limping away from the Victorian. With the house on a rise, it was still in sight, while they were safely hidden by the house behind it.

Standing next to his van, Simon waited for Eric to do—whatever he felt he needed to do. When the fist came at him he caught it with his left hand, grabbed the front of Eric’s shirt with his right.

“I saw the power of whatever is with them in that house.” Simon waited until Eric relaxed, and let go, running one hand over his hair. “In a word, it was awesome. And I can’t take the chance of pissing it off with them trapped inside.”

“Right—I know you’re right. But, damn it, I didn’t want to leave them like that.”

“You and me both.” His cell chimed. Digging it out of his pocket, he turned to face the back of the Victorian as he recognized the number. “Theresa—I want you to stay out of—”

“Too late, Simon. I’m here.” He heard a car engine in the background. “In fact, I’m driving past the house now—”

“Keep moving. Don’t slow down, don’t look at the house.” He forced down the panic clawing at him. “Just keep going, and turn right when you get to the corner. You’ll find us.” Ending the call, he swore under his breath and headed for the corner.

“You should have told her to leave,” Eric said, catching up to him.

“She’s even more stubborn than her father.” Grief at Bertram’s death, along with the guilt that he helped cause it still dragged at Simon, kept him awake nights. Along with all the other blame he carried. “I’ll send her on an errand—one that’ll keep her well out of danger.”

The sedan inched around the corner, then darted forward, screeching to a halt inches from the Jag. They both flinched. Theresa burst out of the car, running straight at Simon. He wrapped his arms around her when she hugged him, happy to see her, and wanting her gone as quick as he could get her out of town.

“Hey, Eric.” She flashed him a shy smile. “So—what’s happening?”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but there’s no ghost.” When she opened her mouth he held up one hand. “You can do both of us a big favor, and gather up some supplies. Claire is doing cleanup work at the house, and will need some herbs to finish the job.”

“Cleanup, like—witchcraft? I thought—”

“She can perform simple cleansing rituals. I’m going to hang around, in case she wants a more spiritual cleansing. And he,” Simon pointed at Eric, “just won’t go away.”

“Not without Annie. We have a date,” he said to Theresa, flashing a smile. “She’d skin me and hang what was left on the wall as a trophy if I left without her.”

“Okay.” She crossed her arms. “What’s really going on?”

EIGHT

C
laire held the rag doll while Annie attached the hair Claire literally pulled off Zach, tying a physical part of him to what would be their poppet for the binding.

When she finished, Annie wiped both hands on her jeans, and cast a circle around the makeshift altar set up on the small side table before picking up the paper with the spell. Claire had written it step by step, knowing Annie would be overwhelmed if she had to work the spell in one go. It was bad enough that she had to work something so manipulative to begin with; Claire wanted to make it as easy as possible for her.

“I’m ready—I think.”

“Are you certain—”

“Don’t give me the no option, please. I might take it.” Annie blew out her breath. “Okay—how fast am I going to have to be?”

“I can,” Claire mimed winding the red embroidery thread in her hand around the doll. “Say it low and fast—and be sure. You won’t be able to stop. And there is no guarantee this will even be effective.”

“And isn’t that excellent news.” Annie flashed a weak smile. “Okay, enough stalling.” She spread out the paper, lit the white candle—the only candle they could find on short notice—and whispered, so low Claire had to strain to hear her.

“Blessed be, thou creature made of art.

By art made, by art changed.