Marcus relaxed against her, his weight pressing her into the ridged floor. She reached up, shocked by the sweat that slicked his face, matted his hair.
“Marcus—” Something warm and hot dripped on her hand. “Heaven above—Mindy Kay, help me.”
They eased Marcus on to his back; when his left arm touched the floor he recoiled, let out a raw cry.
“Please, Claire,” he whispered, jerking away when she reached for him. The movement had him gasping for breath. “There is naught you can do—”
“Hold still, Marcus.”
Claire searched the ceiling, found the overhead light. It snapped on, highlighting the sweat soaked shirt, the pain on his face, the blood darkening his upper arm.
He had been shot.
NINE
Using the rental’s GPS, Eric got them to Huntsville, pulling into the gravel parking lot of the police station just after ten pm. It looked deserted.
Annie pushed the door open, but before she could get out, Eric gripped her arm.
“Did you hear that?”
Pausing, she listened. And heard nothing but the sound of nature—crickets, rustling in the bushes, the crackle of animal feet on dried leaves. She hated nature. Another reason she knew she’d be thrown out of any coven.
Not that she wanted to be part of one, but the whole love of Mother Nature, and running naked through wild forests made her shudder. And now she was throwing the mundane’s clichés at her own kind. Claire never ran naked through a forest. But then, Claire wasn’t really a witch.
Annie shut that thought down before it started tearing at her again.
“What did you hear?”
“I thought—never mind. Let’s get this done.”
They stepped inside the station, and found no one. Closer inspection revealed small pools of blood; not enough to be life threatening, but add in the smashed chair, the signs of a struggle, and Annie expected to trip over a body at any second. She just hoped it wouldn’t be Marcus. Or—
Don’t go there. You can’t—she’s gone, no matter what the dreams imply.
Rubbing at her face, suddenly exhausted, Annie sat in the nearest chair. Eric came back from the other room. “There are cells back there, and more blood. Looks like we missed the party.”
“How the hell are we supposed to find him now?”
He crouched next to her, took her hand. “Let’s do another search, and take it from there.”
With a sigh, she nodded. “I’ll start looking through . . .” Her voice faded when she touched the black three-hole punch on the desk. An echo of power clung to it—familiar power, that shouldn’t be there. Couldn’t be there—
“Annie?”
“She was here—”
“Who?” Eric caught her arm when she pushed past him. “Talk to me.”
“Give me a minute—I have to be sure.”
She headed into the back room, drawn to the first cell. Blood smeared the denim blue blanket—not enough to endanger, but it was more than a simple cut. Hand shaking, Annie reached for the blanket. And snatched her hand away when the same energy brushed against her fingertips. Energy she had never been able to feel before. This time hate smacked her, laid over the innate goodness like an ugly stain.
She clutched the bars, and was assaulted again. Stumbling out of the cell, she caught the edge of the desk, her head rebelling against what her heart already accepted. She nearly screamed when Eric touched her shoulder.
“Annie—”
“It was Claire,” she whispered. Turning, she met the disbelief in his eyes, understood completely. “I don’t want to believe, but she’s everywhere. Her blood is in the cell, and her energy—oh, God.”
She covered her face, grief and hope beating at her. Eric pulled her into his arms and she held on, his presence stable. Real. She pressed her face into his shoulder, the words she couldn’t say running through her mind.
Claire is alive.
*
Heat poured off Marcus—and Claire snatched her hand away when she realized what he meant to do.
“Keep back.” She caught Mind Kay’s wrist. “He is going to heal himself.”
Marcus pushed himself up and hunched over his left arm. His figure blurred as smoke curled through him, surrounded him. The cyclone of sand and wind burst free, raw and barely controlled. The force yanked his hair out of its confinement, tossing it around the sharp-edged features.
Claire watched, fingers twisting into the hem of her sweatshirt. It was different this time—he shook inside the cyclone, the light of his soul cracked, and fading. The healing seemed to be causing him pain instead of easing it—
With a raw, anguished cry he collapsed. The storm of his power blew out, pelting them with sand before it disappeared. Claire lowered her arm and crawled over to him.