Carry On Wayward Son(14)

“She’s one tough kid.” Annie sat next to her on the bed. “I bet you were like that.”

“Me?” Claire looked over at her. “I was cold, withdrawn.” She spoke quietly, so Annie had to lean in to hear. “I had been a demon for centuries, reigning in Hell beside Azazel, and centuries more wandering the earth as an exile, alone. I had to learn compassion, learn how to show emotion, until I understood, as a human, I could actually feel it.”

“God—Claire, I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“Don’t apologize. Just another facet in the life of Claire.”

“I thought you were thrown out of—you know—because of your compassion.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “I lost everything. That killed it pretty quickly. Ah, look at this,” she said as Hillary dashed into the room. “What a lovely doll she is, as well.”

“Her name is Sophie.” Hillary clutched the rag doll, touching the mop of black hair. After a long hesitation, she held it out. “I hope she’s good enough.”

Claire accepted the doll, tucking it in the crook of her arm. “She is more than good enough. Thank you, Hillary. I will take the best care with her.”

“Okay.” Regina wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “I’m okay, Mom. It’s just a doll.”

“Your favorite. I am proud of you, honey.” Hillary blushed, staring at her feet. Running a soothing hand up and down her daughter’s arm, she looked at Claire. “I assume you need other—ingredients.”

“As a matter of fact,” Claire mimed writing to Annie. She started to shake her head—then remembered the pad and pen Claire kept in the duffle. Pulling them out, she handed them over. “I would be thrilled if I could get a glass of water.” Scribbling as she talked, Claire finished, gave the pad to Regina. “And I think I need to lie down for a bit.”

With a groan, she lowered herself to the bed. Annie knelt next to her, fear leaping as she watched the color drain from Claire’s face.

“Are you okay?” Hillary beat her to the question, pulling away from her mom to crawl on the bed and take Claire’s hand. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, sweetheart.” Claire opened her eyes, and the pain that flared in the blue depths told Annie the truth. “It’s an old injury. I just need a little rest, and I’ll be fine. Thank you, for caring, and for Sophie. Annie—I think it’s time for that circle. Regina, if you could—” She waved at the pad.

“As fast as I can. Stay here, Hillary. Do what Claire says.” With a last look at her daughter, she strode through the doorway.

“Annie—”

“Stay put. Hillary—can you get the salt out of the duffle for me?” Once she was out of earshot Annie leaned in. “And next time you lie to me about being okay, I’m going to cart you to the nearest hospital myself.” Knowing how much Claire hated them, she considered it a threat that might get through the stubborn. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Groaning, she closed her eyes. “Thank you for casting the circle.”

“Right—got the hint.”

Checking on Claire pretty much every other minute, Annie composed a chant specific to what they were trying to protect themselves from—a guardian angel, of all things. Looking at Claire yet again, she understood, for the first time since coming back from Huntsville, that her friend was no longer indestructible.

Accepting the salt from Hillary, she used it to make a physical circle, chanting under her breath, well aware of her audience.

“I want you to stay inside the ring of salt, no matter what you hear.” Crouching down, she looked at Hillary. “Your mom is scared, and worried about you. It would make her, and me, feel a whole lot better if you stayed here, where we know you’re safe.”

“Will Mom be here with me?” Hillary’s panic-edged voice reminded Annie that she was just a little girl, caught up in a situation even adults would have issues dealing with.

“Every minute, and me or Claire, when we can. You won’t be alone again, honey. I promise you.”

“Okay.”

The tears in her eyes shot straight through Annie, and she pulled the girl into her arms, running one hand over her long hair while she cried. Claire watched her, a smile Annie didn’t like on her face. It was as close to smug as her friend got.

Sniffling, Hillary pulled away from her, wiping at her face. “I’m okay. Thanks,” she whispered, smiling shyly up at Annie.

“I didn’t have everything. I hope this will be enough.” Regina strode in, carrying a plastic grocery bag, and halted at the sight of her daughter huddled on the floor. “Hil—are you all right?”