“I don’t know what—thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Just—thank you, for always being my slap in the face,” Annie laughed, her own tears shimmering just below the surface. “And for being the sister I never thought I would have. I promise you,” turning, she framed Annie’s face, her own stained with tears. “I will dance at your wedding, laugh with your children, and love you until my last breath.”
“Okay—here comes the waterworks.” Laughing, Claire hugged her, the strength in her arms surprising, and hopeful. “Time to eat.” Kissing her forehead, Annie eased out of the embrace. “I will open the store, and you will go home as soon as you’re done. Nope,” she held up her hand, stopping Claire’s protest. “You get to play hooky—for today. But tomorrow, young lady, I expect you here bright and early. We have Halloween to sell. Eat. Go home.”
“You command, I obey.”
“Good to see the pecking order is understood.”
Annie strode to the front door, leaned her forehead against the cool glass for a long moment, settling her temper, her fear.
Whatever it took, she would get Claire strong again.
*
Claire dreamed of Marcus that night, exhausted and unable to protect herself.
She watched him walk under a moonless sky, heard the ocean before she saw it. With the desert at his back, the sea at his feet, he looked up, spoke to her.
“I miss you, witch. I ache to touch you, to be with you, even when I know it is best if I stay away, let you live your life without the trouble I would bring to it.”
“Marcus.” She heard herself whisper it, knew she slept, dreamed—even as the sand shifted under her bare feet. “Trouble is my life. Always has been. It didn’t start when I met you—and it will hardly stop if you don’t come back.” Stepping to him, she laid one hand on his cheek. “Please come back.”
He closed his eyes. “I have—unfinished business.”
“The trial.”
He looked at her, dark eyes narrowed. “How do you—”
“Vision. I saw you fighting someone—training with him. Jamal.”
“Claire.” His hand covered hers. “I was thinking of you. I never meant to draw you in—”
“I believe you. This time. I know that first vision, the day you walked into my shop, was a taunt. A dare. Look at me—I am Jinn, with my irresistible charm, and what are you going to do about it? You have to know that arrogance is part of your appeal.”
“I prefer to think of it as supreme confidence.”
Her laughter surrounded them. “Of course you do.” The humor faded, and she eased her hand free. “Whatever you think you have to face, let it go. You paid the price, and more, for your wife’s death—”
He backed away from her. “You do not know—”
“Then tell me.”
Instead of retreating, he caught her arms and lifted until she stood on tiptoe. “I lost her because she trusted, and when I was accused of killing a man, she defended me. I was not there to protect her, Claire.” He let her go, and she stumbled backward, the cool surf curling around her feet. “She insisted on protesting my innocence, when all evidence pointed to my guilt. I was not there, so they took her life instead.”
“God—Marcus, that was not your doing.” Claire wanted to touch him, but the grief that poured off him kept her at a distance. “The guilt for her death is on the heads of the men who—”
“I killed him.” He spun away from her, stared up at the sky. “He discovered what I was, and I killed him for it.”
She understood, more than anyone else could, the desperation, the need that led to murder as necessity. She’d done it herself, when she roamed the earth, alone, before she locked away the demon. Discovery of what she was meant worse than death, and murder was the lesser evil for her.
“Did she know?” Marcus looked at her, his eyes shattered. “Did Karana know—what you are?”
He shook his head. “Jinn were hunted then, hunted and tortured for the wishes we supposedly could grant our captor.” Swallowing, he kept his gaze on her. “I didn’t tell her, in order to keep her safe. I never should have tied her to me, never should have been selfish enough to—”
“Love her? Want a life with someone who looks at you and sees their whole world?” She moved forward, tracking him as he retreated. “I never had that. In all the centuries I wandered, exiled from what I had been, from those who understood what I was, I never found what you had with her. I never loved—never knew how. Until I met Annie. Until I met you.”