Carry On Wayward Son(12)

Claire saw movement behind him, kept her focus on him, drawing his attention back to her. “What is your name?”

Panic skated across his face. “Why is that important? I will have whatever name I choose, once I have my life. You do not need to know—”

“I would like to call you something other than ‘hey, you.’ If that’s all right.” She smiled, tried to keep her voice light. “You don’t have to give me your real name—”

“Zach.” He whispered the name, as if saying it out loud defied the forces he blamed for his confinement. “My name is Zach.”

“It’s a pleasure, Zach. My name is Claire.” She held out her hand, wanting to lure him closer, away from the staircase—where she could now see Annie, keeping herself in front of Hillary, Regina just behind her, as they crept down, step by step. “It is considered polite to shake someone’s hand when you meet them.”

“You think I don’t know that? I have been among you mortals for—”

With a furious shout he whirled, blocking the base of the stairs between one breath and the next. Annie shoved Hillary against the wall, brought up the shotgun. Zach gestured and it flew out of her hands, embedding itself barrel first into the plaster wall.

“Zach—”

“You dare to betray me? To fool me—”

“Not to fool.” Claire stepped forward, held up both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “I wouldn’t treat you that way. I want them safe, and I don’t want you to punish them for what was my idea.”

“Fine.” He flung out his hand—and Claire slammed into the wall, inches from the protruding shotgun. Pain radiated across her back at impact, spiraled as he pushed her into the cracked plaster. She couldn’t catch her breath—his invisible grip squeezed her lungs, pressed on her ribs with such force she expected them to crack at any moment—

Without warning he freed her, and she dropped to the floor. The first breath hurt, reminded her of another first breath. One she never thought to take. Before she could recover he grabbed her arms, dragging her to her feet. The shock of his touch drove through her. That shock crossed his face, and he stared at her, his body trapping her against the wall.

She gasped as something splintered inside her—and she felt it, for the first time since Azazel sent her back. Her power, shining through a crack in the wall. The power of an angel—the power she had before she fell. Before she gave up all she was for pride.

“Who are you—” A strangled cry cut him off when she wrapped shaking fingers in his hair and yanked. He let her go and backed away, clutching his scalp. “Why? I would not have hurt you. I just want to live.”

“Wanting that life—doesn’t mean you’ll get it.” Claire caught her breath, her ribs aching from his assault. “What do you want us to do?”

“Make them listen.” He spun, facing the trio on the stairs. Annie held Regina, who had Hillary in her embrace, one hand over her mouth. The girl stared at Zach, not in fear, but in—wonder. Claire felt it, saw it. Saw the rage pouring off Annie, edged with helplessness, and the maternal need mingling with the terror that surrounded Regina. “And if I must hurt to do so, I will.”

He turned back to her, and she saw the white light of a guardian, like a nimbus around him. A different light tangled with it, fractured, smothered in spots, like the broken lights on a marquee. As if he knew she saw it, he clenched his fist, and the light receded, flashing across the mark on his wrist before it disappeared.

“Try to leave again, and there will be pain.” His other hand sliced through the air; and the sound of locks clicking over echoed through the house. “Am I understood?”

Claire nodded, closed her eyes after he blinked out of sight. Pounding footsteps had her opening them again, and she held up a hand before Annie could touch her. “I’m—all right.”

“Could have fooled me. Will touching you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” she whispered. Every inch felt raw—from her impact with the wall, and the reconnection to a power she had not touched since she was cast down. Annie handled her as if she were as fragile as fine china, eased her to the floor and knelt beside her. “Did you hear?”

“Yeah. Guardian angel, feels cheated, wants his life back. So much for a simple ghost busting.” Annie glanced up at the shotgun sticking out of the wall. “Looks like we stepped in deep.”

“Is he really a guardian angel?” Claire lifted her head, met Hillary’s soft brown eyes.

“He is, sweetheart.”