Carry On Wayward Son Part 2

"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 c.r.a.p 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.

"Simon?" 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."

"d.a.m.n 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 a.s.sistance, 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.

Annie waited outside the gorgeous, sprawling Victorian, keeping her eye on her pa.s.sengers 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. G.o.d, she loved his voice-low and quiet, with a hint of s.e.xy 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. "G.o.d 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 Francis...o...b..y 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 h.e.l.l 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, amus.e.m.e.nt in her blue eyes. "It's a gift."

"Oh, G.o.d."

"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 pa.s.sed, 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."

The 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?"

"We go inside-just long enough for whatever is doing this to make an appearance. After that, you can go, and I will take care of it. I promise you, Hillary," she brushed the soft, damp cheek. "I promise, no matter what happens, I will take care of you."

"I know. That's what good witches do."

Claire smiled. "How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"And already wise. Your mom should be proud." She nodded to Regina, wishing she had the power to lay a calming spell on the woman. "Are you ready?"

Swallowing, Hillary took her hand. Regina grabbed her shoulders, panic on her face. "I don't-"

"It's okay, Mom. I can do this. So can you. After what Dad pulled, this should be cake."

Regina let her go, rubbed at her face. "You weren't supposed to know-"

"Hard not to when you both screamed at each other about it. I'm twelve, Mom, not deaf." She looked at Claire. "Can we just do this?"

"Whenever you're ready."

They entered the house, leaving the front door open. Hillary held tight to Claire's hand; it stirred feelings inside Claire, feelings she didn't think she had. The desire to nurture. The need to protect, whatever the cost.

The spa.r.s.ely furnished rooms, and boxes lining the walls of the living room told Claire they had just moved in. Discovering a ghost in that new house would be an unnerving welcome.

She didn't feel the expected snap of cold. Bending down, she whispered to Hillary. "Did you ever feel cold, when you heard the voice?"

"No. It's always warm, like when you feel the sun coming through a window? Not hot, but, just-nice. The warm always came first, then the whispers, saying-" She cut herself off, tears sliding down her face.

Claire gathered her into an embrace, her heart aching for the fear this girl had been through. "It's all right, sweetheart. I won't let the voice get near you again. What did it say?"

Clutching the back of Claire's jacket, Hillary spoke against her shoulder. "It said it wanted my life, it deserved to live my life . . ." She buried her face, shaking in Claire's arms.

"Hush now. You told me more than enough. Annie, I want you to take them out of-" A figure flashed past the doorway. Too solid to be a ghost. "Get them out. Now, Annie."

"Claire-"

"Go."

She handed Hillary over to her mother, stood between them and the doorway leading to the rest of the house. Behind her, Annie spoke in a soothing voice, their footsteps moving away from her. "She'll be okay-she knows what she's doing. We'll just wait for her out-"

Claire spun when the door slammed shut. Cursing, Annie yanked at the ornate k.n.o.b-and s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away with a pained cry. She stumbled backward, Regina catching her around the waist to keep her from smacking into the wall.

Turning back to the doorway, Claire wasn't surprised to find the figure standing there, the edges of his body wavering. He was nearly transparent, like a ghost, but he didn't give off the cold, or the eerie sense of the recently dead.

"They don't need to stay," she said, her voice low, even. "I am the one who can help you. Let them go and I will-"

"Who are you?" He floated into the room, hovering in front of Claire. "You are-wrong, somehow. I am unable to see beyond, and that is-never mind." His gaze moved past her. "They stay."

"Not here. Annie, take them upstairs, lock yourselves in one of the bedrooms. Stop them," she said, when he let out a snarl and started to move, "and you will become a smear on the wall." When he faced her she had the shotgun out of the duffle and aimed at him. Rock salt may not stop whatever he was, but it would hurt.

They stared at each other as footsteps echoed around them, faded. Silence stretched out, the shotgun starting to weigh down Claire's arms. She simply tightened her grip, ignored the ache. And watched him gradually become solid.

"Look at me," he said, the beauty of his voice wrapping around her heart. Heat flared through the amethyst at her throat. Heart pounding, she lowered the shotgun. It had been centuries-more than she wanted to remember-since she heard one of them speak. "Look at this."

Closing her eyes briefly, she looked at the arm he held out. And saw the mark, on the inside of his right wrist. A pair of wings surrounding a flaming sword. Something she had not seen for those same centuries.

G.o.d above- She was right. What they faced was no ghost.

He was a guardian angel.

FOUR.