“But he’s okay, right?” The panic in his voice had Claire wrapping her arm around his waist and tucking him against her side. “He’s going to be fine?”
“I hope so, Zach. It sounds serious, but not life threatening. We will know soon enough.” She kissed his cheek and stood, pulling him to his feet. “Are you packed?”
“Kinda.” He scuffed his bare foot against the rug, avoiding her gaze.
“And how close is kinda to being done?”
“Sorta.” He smiled up at her, peeking through his sleep tangled hair.
Claire couldn’t stop herself; she laughed, shaking her head. “You’re lucky I love you, brat. Now get—back to bed, and in the morning you can finish that kinda sorta packing. We have to pick up Marcus before we head to the airport.”
Zach groaned. “Does he really have to go?”
“Annie invited him.” He opened his mouth to make a comment. “No. He is traveling with us, so get over yourself.”
Those clear blue eyes widened. “Mom—you sound—”
“Like Annie.” Smiling, Claire, shooed him to the door. “Missing her, I guess. More than I expected. Now go back to bed. And if you finish that packing early enough, we can stop for breakfast at Lily’s before we go.”
He stopped his shuffle and turned around, the look on his face so hopeful she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “Steak breakfast burritos?”
“Two.”
With a whoop he dashed down the hall, jumping up to slap the top of the doorway before he disappeared inside. Claire set the smile free, and took her own advice, climbing into bed.
Bribery may not be the best option, but oh, how it works.
Annie would be laughing like a loon.
Claire’s smile faded at the thought of her, dealing with Eric’s injuries, and what may come after, on her own.
“Hang on, Annie.” She offered up a silent prayer. “We’ll be with you soon.”
*
Claire paced from the newsstand tucked against the wall of the airport concourse back to their gate, trying to work off some of her frustration, and avoid the cause of it.
Zach slouched in one of the uncomfortable chairs, baseball cap pulled low, attention fixed on his cell phone. Marcus sat across from him, a study in black and irritation. When she got close enough to hear them sniping at each other, she did an about face and headed back to the newsstand.
Their boarding announcement blared over the system. Since Marcus insisted on paying for first class, they would board first. With a sigh, Claire moved to them, picked up her small backpack.
“Mom?” Zach’s voice was timid. “Is this the first time I’ve been on a plane?”
The panic he tried to hide had her crouching in front of him. “Yes, sweetheart.” As far as she knew. What he did before—before he fell, when he spent centuries as a guardian here—could have involved him flying on a plane. But he couldn’t, didn’t, remember any of it. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or not.
Taking a shaky breath, he nodded, pulled the cap off so she could see him. Golden brown hair tumbled to his shoulders; no matter how often, or how short she cut it, in a few days it returned to the length it was when he fell.
“I think—I might be afraid of flying.”
“Sweet heaven—why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“That’s my job, Zach.” His smile eased the knot in her stomach. Sitting next to him, she took his hand, his skin like ice. “Can you get on the plane?”
“I think so. I’m sorry, Mom—I didn’t want to ruin your holiday. But I do feel sick to my stomach, like someone punched me. And he knew it,” one hand waved at Marcus, “even though I used every trick to hide it.”
“I am a healer, Zach.”
He pushed hair off his face, glared at Marcus. “I thought you were a genie.”
“Jinn.” Amusement edged Marcus’ sand rough voice. “As you well know, since you thoroughly researched me. I recognize an interrogation when I am on the receiving end of one. While you were bringing suitcases to the car,” he said, answering the question Claire was about to ask. “And the panic he fought to hide was considerable. I did what I could to ease it.”
Zach stared at him. “I felt better—but I thought it was because you agreed not to tell Mom. You shook my hand—that’s when you—according to the myth you need permission—”
“I imagine it was a combination, and I do prefer healing once I’ve asked, though it not a requirement, despite what you read. I deduced that you would say no, regardless of the relief I could offer.”