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Carry On Wayward Son(3)

By:Cate Dean


She snagged the first bottle of water she could reach and opened it, pushing it into Claire’s hand. After a couple of false starts, Claire managed to swallow most of it. Annie took the bottle, wrapped one arm around her waist, and pulled her to her feet, lowering her to the chair before she could sink to the floor again.

“Annie—I can’t—”

“You eat, I don’t take you to the emergency room. Deal?”

With a sigh, Claire started to unwrap the sandwich, cursed as her fingers shook against the paper. She laid her hands on the table, whispered into the silence. “I saw Marcus.”

Shock jolted through Annie. “He’s here? Why the hell did he leave you face down on the floor—”

“I had a vision.”

Annie sank to the other chair. “Bad?”

“It felt like I was there, Annie.” Swallowing, Claire looked at her, blue eyes dark with pain. “Hot sun, hot wind, and sand as far as I could see. He was fighting another man—not fighting, training. For some trial. His arm was better, but he looked thin, tired—”

“Like you?” She ignored Claire’s flinch. “You think I haven’t noticed? Only you lost more weight than even I thought. Loose shirts, flowy skirts, bulky sweaters—they helped hide the fact that you are practically down to bone. What the hell, Claire? I thought I was your friend, your sister. Why haven’t you told me why you’re letting yourself just waste away?”

“It wasn’t intentional—the wasting or the hiding.” Sighing, Claire rubbed her face, pushed back her red laced brown hair. Annie had finally gotten used to seeing the shorter waves that brushed her shoulders instead of the long cloud of hair that always floated around her. “I’ve felt—off, since we returned from Huntsville. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t touch my power, or if what happened with Jane simply took more out of me than I thought.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Simon? Why do you always think you have to suffer alone?”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “Maybe because I have spent so much of my existence doing just that.”

“Well, stop, damn it. Stop thinking like the demon, and start acting like the mortal.” Claire blinked at her, obviously surprised. “You don’t have that superior metabolism, or whatever it was that kept you from becoming a walking skeleton. Time to remember you’re human, and start taking the responsibility that comes with it. Now eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With steadier hands, Claire opened the sandwich and picked it up. “Lily’s sandwiches seem to be our personal panacea.”

“She does make a damn fine one. And you are about to become personally acquainted with them. And with the protein smoothies from the juice bar, and ice cream, and steak, and every other fine, fatty, calorie-laden food I can throw down you.” Pushing hair off her forehead, she fought to keep her voice even. “Finding you on the floor like that scared the hell out of me.”

“Annie.” Putting down the sandwich, Claire took her hand. Even her fingers felt fragile. The lack of rings should have told Annie something was wrong; Claire always wore several, changing the crystals depending on the time of year, or personal issues. They probably didn’t fit. “I am sorry. All of this snuck up on me. I’ve been focused on trying to accept, well, everything. I don’t know how to be a mortal, I don’t know how having a soul will change me, I don’t know how the hell I am going to tell Simon what I am—what I was. And I will have to tell him. Eventually. That really frightens me, more than I want to think about.”

“And you could have shared all of this—before I found you face-planted on the floor.”

“You’re angry. And right.” With a sigh, she let go of Annie and leaned back, looking exhausted. “My only excuse is that I spent more years alone than with others. And that friendship—real friendship—is so new to me, I am still unsure of parameters.”

“Wow.” Claire actually believed there was some kind of boundary in their friendship. Time to set the record straight. “Simple—there aren’t any. I will never stand you up when we make plans—unless Eric wants hot jungle sex. And I will tell you why I’m standing you up, so you can be envious of said jungle sex and wish me plenty of it.”

The laughter warmed her. She stood, moved behind Claire and wrapped both arms around her shoulders. “You are the sister of my heart, and I couldn’t love you more if you were my blood.”

“Annie—”

“I’m not done.” Claire’s hand reached up, closed over hers. “I want you to be there for my wedding, alive and kicking, and I want you there for the kids Eric and I are going to make. I want you there for the rest of our lives, Claire, and damn it, I won’t settle for less.”