Carry On Wayward Son(15)
“I’m fine, Mom. I was helping Annie.” She gestured to the circle of salt.
“Is that—” Regina looked at it, then at Annie. “Will that really protect us?”
“What the salt represents will.” Annie felt like she was lying through her teeth. She had no idea what would work against a raging guardian angel. Or if anything would. “It’s a physical barrier—the circle is invisible, but you’ll feel it when you step through. The salt just shows you where the protection ends.”
“So we stay inside the circle, and we’ll be safe?”
“As safe as I can—”
“Yes,” Claire said, interrupting her. “Annie is good at what she does. I trust her with my life.” She looked at Annie, and the confidence Annie desperately needed filled her blue eyes. “The circle will protect you and your daughter, if Zach manages to get past us. I don’t plan on that happening, but this is a precaution that will make me feel better.” Pushing herself up, she hid the stiffness from them. Annie recognized the careful movements; she’d seen them too much in the past months. “Ready, Annie?”
Wiping both hands on her jeans, she pushed her hair back. “I don’t know if I’d ever be ready for something like this. But let’s do it.”
SIX
Simon got lost. Twice. Cursing under his breath, he checked the map again, wished he had GPS, and made a U-turn, heading back the way he came. This time he turned left instead of right, ignoring the computer generated directions, and found the street. He slowed, reading the addresses, and saw both Claire’s and Annie’s cars in front of the Victorian on the corner.
Sitting back from the street, a wide lawn sloped down from the huge three story house. Mansion would be a better real estate description. As he was getting out of the van, a sleek black Jag pulled up behind him. Ignoring the bite of envy, he slung the duffle over his shoulder and headed toward the still purring machine.
Eric stepped out, looking as surprised as Simon felt. “What brings you here?”
“Same as you, I bet.” He waved at the cars. “Claire stopped by the rectory for her ghost hunting kit. When I couldn’t get through to her cell—”
“You came to check it out in person. All I got from Annie’s cell was static, and,” he ran one hand through his hair, let out his breath. “Hell—it sounded like words, in—”
“Latin.”
Eric looked at him, eyes troubled. “Yeah. Looks like my girl stepped in it again.”
“Ready to go get them out?”
“They won’t thank you for it,” Eric said. After scanning the street for witnesses, Simon passed him a shotgun. He faced the car to keep it out of sight, and checked it with the ease of experience, smiling at Simon’s raised eyebrow. “Best friend is a former Marine. Rock salt rounds?” Simon nodded. “Hell, my life used to be so simple.”
“Claire can complicate in a hurry.”
“Yeah.” Eric gestured to the house. “You go first—Annie will be less likely to yell at a priest.”
Simon laughed. He agreed, but he wasn’t about to say so. Annie intimidated him, and at the same time he admired her straight up way of talking.
Heading up the cracked sidewalk, he slipped a second shotgun out of his duffle, locked and loaded, aiming at the door. Eric started to outpace him, obviously deciding to get the door so he had no choice but go in first. The heat spark of warning burst through him—and he grabbed Eric before he could touch the glowing handle.
“What the—” Eric’s protest cut off. “What do you see?”
“Power—like nothing I’ve ever come across. Stay back, until I—”
Before he could shout a warning the fierce, alien power that surrounded the house exploded.
It slammed into them with the force of a wall and picked them up. Simon felt the grip, the rage that dug in with breath-robbing force.
Helpless to stop it, he braced himself for pain as it tossed him through the air.
*
Claire 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.