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Carry On Wayward Son(9)

By:Cate Dean


She moved forward as Claire stepped out, hefting the now familiar green duffle. “No Simon?”

“I told him we could handle this one. He’s calling Theresa.”

“What the hell for?” Claire raised one eyebrow, and Annie dialed down the irritation. “I just don’t think—she would have hurt you, killed you—”

“She was possessed, and you know that. Annie—you of all people should be more understanding. After all, your best friend is a demon.”

She stared at Claire. This was the first time her friend ever said it out loud like that.

“I don’t—I don’t know what to say.”

“What do you know—I stumped the smartmouth. I’d call that an accomplishment. We will finish this long before Theresa gets here, so don’t get your nose out of joint. And stop swearing under your breath,” she said, leaning back into the car. “I can hear you.”

Annie let out a strangled sound. “Always? Since I’ve known you?”

Straightening, Claire tucked her keys into her purse and swung it over her shoulder. She handed the duffle to Annie, amusement in her blue eyes. “It’s a gift.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry—you weren’t too over the top. Most of the time. Now pick your jaw up off the ground and let’s get this done.”

Claire touched her arm as she passed, and paused long enough to wink at her. Annie pushed curls off her forehead. “I was right—you have been hanging around me too long.”



*



The terror pouring off Hillary had Claire sliding into the back seat next to her. Huddled in her mother’s arms, the girl curled in tighter at Claire’s presence.

“Hillary.” Keeping her voice quiet and gentle, Claire curbed her need to comfort. “My name is Claire. Do you remember me? I own the witch shop in Santa Luna—”

“You’re the good witch,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder, just long enough for Claire to see the anguish in her soft brown eyes.

“That’s right. And your mom asked me to help you. To help find out who has been frightening you.”

“I’ll have to go back inside, won’t I?”

Unable to stop herself, Claire gently rubbed the girl’s arm. “Can you do that?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hillary—”

“It’s okay, Mom.”

Regina grabbed her arms when she started to pull away. “I will not let you—”

“I’m the one being haunted. I’m the one who can’t sleep cause there’s a voice whispering in my ear.” She kept talking over Regina’s gasp. “I can’t be afraid anymore, Mom—I can’t.” Turning to Claire, she wiped at the tears on her face, took in a shaky breath. “What do I do?”

“We go inside—just long enough for whatever is doing this to make an appearance. After that, you can go, and I will take care of it. I promise you, Hillary,” she brushed the soft, damp cheek. “I promise, no matter what happens, I will take care of you.”

“I know. That’s what good witches do.”

Claire smiled. “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“And already wise. Your mom should be proud.” She nodded to Regina, wishing she had the power to lay a calming spell on the woman. “Are you ready?”

Swallowing, Hillary took her hand. Regina grabbed her shoulders, panic on her face. “I don’t—”

“It’s okay, Mom. I can do this. So can you. After what Dad pulled, this should be cake.”

Regina let her go, rubbed at her face. “You weren’t supposed to know—”

“Hard not to when you both screamed at each other about it. I’m twelve, Mom, not deaf.” She looked at Claire. “Can we just do this?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”



*



They entered the house, leaving the front door open. Hillary held tight to Claire’s hand; it stirred feelings inside Claire, feelings she didn’t think she had. The desire to nurture. The need to protect, whatever the cost.

The sparsely furnished rooms, and boxes lining the walls of the living room told Claire they had just moved in. Discovering a ghost in that new house would be an unnerving welcome.

She didn’t feel the expected snap of cold. Bending down, she whispered to Hillary. “Did you ever feel cold, when you heard the voice?”

“No. It’s always warm, like when you feel the sun coming through a window? Not hot, but, just—nice. The warm always came first, then the whispers, saying—” She cut herself off, tears sliding down her face.

Claire gathered her into an embrace, her heart aching for the fear this girl had been through. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I won’t let the voice get near you again. What did it say?”