Carry On Wayward Son(40)

She kissed him—and the light around them exploded.

Annie screamed. Eric pushed her to the ground, protecting her with his body. Simon sank to his knees, blinked through the tears blinding him.

Inside that burning light he saw Claire. Her wings wrapped around them both, her power filling Zach until it shimmered out of his skin. She broke off the kiss, studied him, a smile touching her mouth.

“I will wait for you. Follow the crystal,” her finger brushed over the amethyst at his throat, pulsing like a heart. With a painful jerk, Simon recognized it. “And follow your heart.”

“You will be here for me?”

She closed her eyes briefly, something like grief crossing her face.

“Always.” She guided his hand to her, laid it over her ribcage. “Now take my grace.”

“It will hurt you—”

“There can be no joy without pain. Might as well learn that now. Take it, Zach.”

Leaning in, he laid his forehead against hers. “Thank you.”

Simon held his breath, waited, his muscles tensed.

The force of the wind tossed him across the lawn. When he stopped tumbling, Simon looked up in time to be blinded again—this time by a light so pure it made his soul ache. He covered his eyes, peered through a gap between his fingers.

Claire arched backward, agony in every line of her body. Her wings retracted, shuddering with each harsh breath. Both hands clutched Zach’s wrist like a lifeline.

He curled over her, shoulder length hair flying around his face, his wings pulled in tight against his back. They looked—smaller. And as the light around her, in her, faded, his changed.

A rich blue flowed through the white and gold, coiling around Zach like smoke. With every breath it spread, surrounding him. He let out a long, shuddering breath and pulled free of Claire. She collapsed, her wings limp. Simon dropped his hand and pushed off the ground, freezing as Zach surged to his feet.

His wings compressed, tighter and smaller with every pulse of the blue light. Through it Simon spotted the amethyst, a bright sliver shining through the fast darkening swirl of power. Zach threw his head back, every muscle rigid, the darkness closing around him.

Everything stilled, the world holding its breath. Until Zach’s scream shattered the silence. Simon doubled, covered his ears, the agony excruciating. Just when he thought his eardrums would burst it cut off—and he lifted his head in time to see Zach shoot straight up, his body turning to pure blue light as he streaked through the afternoon sky.

“Claire—” Stumbling across the grass, he dropped to his knees next to her curled, too-still figure. His hand shaking, he reached out, closed his fingers over her shoulder, eased her on to her back. Her face was sheet white against the grass, every inch of her soaked. “Claire—”

“Is she all right?” Annie reached out as Eric lowered her to the ground. “Son of a bitch—I bet she knew this was going to happen. Claire—open your eyes, damn it. Claire—”

“Can you stop yelling?” Claire whispered. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“Oh, God.” Annie leaned over her. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” With a choked sob, she pulled Claire into a tight embrace. Claire held on, her eyes closed.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She opened her eyes, looked at Simon. He forced himself to hold her gaze, shame washing through him. “We’re fine.”

Eric kissed the top of her head. “Quite a show, Claire.”

“I didn’t expect that much fanfare.” Easing out of Annie’s arms, she pushed dripping hair off her face. “Oh—I need to lie down.”

Eric helped her to the grass, checked her vitals while he had his hands on her. “I want to get you inside. You’re chilled, and I’d really like to give you a shot of—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She looked straight at Simon, her blue eyes exhausted but clear. “Zach’s journey isn’t done. And I made a promise. I intend to keep it.”



*



It took all the strength she could dredge up, but Claire sat on her own. Now she waited, hoped, prayed. He would either come back, or die in the attempt. She would stay, until she knew.

Annie wrapped her own jacket around Claire, found a blanket for her, a towel to help dry her hair, and another to clean the blood off her face. Claire suspected she pilfered them from Regina’s house. The takeaway container of soup thawing her hands came from the magical Lily’s kitchen. Every sip restored her a bit more, the beef broth with vegetables rich and warming.

“So—how long, do you think?” Annie shifted next to her, flinched. Any attempt to get her to leave was met with a glare or a snide comment. Claire knew she hurt, but she had a streak of stubborn that went wide and deep. She would stick it out. “I need to know if we’re going to be planning an al fresco dinner.”