He glanced at Claire, and the humor in her eyes eased the ache he had carried around these last months. Reaching through the bars, he examined Lea’s fingers, halting when she flinched under his touch.
“I am sorry this hurts you—”
“Stop,” Lea said. “Stop apologizing for what you didn’t do. It’s going to hurt, because that’s what she intended.”
“She?”
“Just part of a long story,” Claire said. “And before you start making those promises, you need to hear what is really going on.”
*
Darkness pushed against the single window by the time Claire caught Marcus up. Once he finished with Lea, his healing much more subtle and controlled than before, he sat beside her, held her hand. His touch comforted her, in a way she didn’t expect. And all that curling black hair pulled back off his face made him look almost—normal. Which she guessed was the intent.
“Annie dreamed of you,” he said, his deep, sand rough voice quiet. “All this time, she has held on to the belief that you were alive.”
Claire let out a shaky breath. “I saw her, after Azazel healed me. I was hoping she wouldn’t—” A stifled gasp from the next cell cut her off. God above—what was I thinking— “Lea?” Pulling out of his grasp, she used his shoulder to help her stand and limped to the bars. Lea stood in the far corner of her cell, wide eyes staring at Claire. “I am so sorry you learned about me that way. I should have told you; my only excuse is that I’ve always held what I am close, kept it behind a wall of protection, until recently.”
“You’re—a demon?”
Claire gripped the bar, closed her eyes briefly. It still hurt, to have that thrown at her. “Do you know the story of Lucifer, and the fallen?” After a moment, Lea nodded. “I am one of them. I stood with him, defying the Father who created me, and was cast down for my pride. The tattoo on my hip is—was—a barrier, keeping the demon trapped, and the majority of my power along with it.”
“But you don’t have any power now, not that you can touch. Just an echo—and it’s not evil. Not evil,” she repeated, and stepped forward. “Which makes my reaction even dumber. Because I already knew you wouldn’t hurt me. Him, though.” She pointed at Marcus. “Him I can’t read at all. He reeks of power, but I don’t see it.”
Claire smiled. “Marcus is a Jinn. I’m guessing you’ve never come across one before now.”
“Get out. Seriously?” Moving across the cell, she studied him. “You don’t really grant wishes, do you?”
Marcus flashed a smile. “Now, that depends on the wish—”
“Rein it in, Jinn.” He turned to Claire, one eyebrow raised. “You know that doesn’t work on me. How long have you been able to heal without the show?”
“A while now. How is your wrist?”
“It aches, but not like before. When—”
“While you were berating me about Annie.”
“I don’t want her caught up in this—” Her right leg twisted under her, the flare of pain driving straight to her bone. “God—”
Marcus caught her when her knees gave out. “I’ve got you, now.” He picked her up and settled her on the thin mattress. “You are going to sleep, and I am going to figure a way out of this mess.”
She struggled to sit. “I can’t—”
“You look like death.”
“Well, thank you.” Marcus gently applied pressure until she was prone, and once her head touched the flat pillow, exhaustion swept over her. She gave in and closed her eyes. “Marcus?”
“Right here.”
“Annie knows about me—what I am.”
Warm, calloused fingers brushed across her forehead, continuous, soothing.
“Yes, sweet, she knows.”
“Does she—hate me?”
His fingers paused, slid down to cradle her cheek.
“She misses you.”
Tears stung Claire’s eyes, lodged in her throat. “And you?”
His lips pressed against her forehead, and he whispered, his breath warm on her skin.
“You left a hole in my heart.” She opened her eyes, tears slipping free. The gold-laced green eyes she remembered so well met hers. “An ache that refused to go away. I wanted to believe, as Annie did. But the hope hurt almost more than the grief. I never believed in miracles, Claire. Until I saw you.”
A door slammed in the station, and a raised voice filtered back to them. Claire gripped Marcus’ hand when she recognized it. “The chief is back.”