“Zach—if you can take that into the back room, I would appreciate it.” She winked as he walked past. Her heart warmed at the smile flashing across his face. “I am so sorry, Mildred. I have a prior engagement. Annie will be happy to give you your first tarot lesson, if that’s why you’re here.”
“She can’t read cards worth spit.”
“And I never get tired of hearing it.” Maneuvering her away from Claire and toward the reading table, Annie glanced over her shoulder and mouthed three words. “You owe me.”
Yes, I do. Smiling, she headed back to have lunch with her son.
*
Lights glittered in the trees lining Forest. Claire loved Christmas, and Santa Luna dressed up for it, with strings of lights, a giant Christmas tree just off the boardwalk, carolers roaming the streets, charming winter tourists and locals alike.
Huddled in her coat, she walked along the boardwalk, and stopped when she saw him, sitting at the stone and tile chess table, facing the beach. She swallowed and kept moving forward, until she stood just feet away.
“Merry Christmas, Simon.”
His shoulders tensed under the pea coat he wore against the cold whipping off the water.
She expected him to simply walk away when he stood. He surprised her by stalking over and trapping her against the high back of the stone chair.
“What do you want with me?”
His anger was a refreshing change from the dead stare he usually gave her if they crossed paths. Claire took in a shaky breath.
“A truce.” He raised his eyebrows. “I want to walk in my own town and not be afraid to run into you, or worry each time I enter a shop, or look out a window, that I will have to avoid you.” She closed her eyes briefly, the last weeks weighing on her heart. “I’m tired of your scorn, Simon. Not so much for myself, but it’s affecting Zach, and I won’t tolerate him being hurt by you.”
He pushed away, ran one hand over his hair. “You care about the kid.”
“I am madly in love with him. And you would be as well, if you gave him a chance—”
“He’s an abomination—”
“He’s an innocent, Simon.” She grabbed the front of his coat before he could escape. “Zach remembers nothing from before—and I am eternally grateful for that. Do you have any idea what he escaped? Being sent Between is punishment for mortals, a chance to redeem their soul for what they did in life. But Zach never lived; his punishment was to be forever, because he wanted life.”
“He had bliss, Claire. The blessing of—”
“Don’t say it.” She let him go and moved away. “I was there, Simon. And I do remember—everything.” He flinched, his hands shaking as he straightened his coat. “You wanted my story—well, here is the rest of it. I tried to save the girl whose soul originally filled this body. She died in my arms, and I took it over, to have the chance to atone for what I had done, what I was. And I did. For more than eighty years I lived as good a life as I could, helped people when they needed it, and buried my past so deep I nearly forgot.”
“Claire—you don’t have to—”
“Let me finish. Please.” Simon nodded, his face in shadow. Not being able to see his reaction made it easier for her to let the words spill out. She wiped at the tears staining her face, surprised by them. “When you met me, I had just been sent back from the threshold of Hell, by my master, my brother, Azazel. I pulled the demon who possessed my cousin through the gate she opened. The demon who killed at least three people and threatened the lives of my friends, along with every soul in this town. My town. Everything I had left, every bit of power Azazel locked behind the wall is gone. I gave it all to Zach, to save him. I am as human as I will ever get.”
With a sigh, Simon stepped forward, until the light from the nearest streetlamp touched his face. The conflicting emotions that darkened his green eyes tore at her. “What you were, Claire, no matter how clean you try to wipe that slate, collides with every belief I stand for. Every word I speak to my congregation. I can give you the truce you want, simply because it hurts me to feel this way. But I can never be friends with you. I hope you understand.”
He reached out, closed his hand in a fist before his fingers touched her. Then he turned around and walked out of her life.
Again.
EIGHTEEN
Claire stood at the window of her shop, smiling as she watched last minute shoppers hustle through the twilight. Christmas Eve always had an urgent feel to it for retailers; that final surge of desperate people needing to find the perfect gift on nearly empty shelves.