“Theresa.” Her head snapped up when Simon touched her hand. He didn’t look like any priest Eric ever met. A cop, yes. But a priest—how that happened would be an interesting story. Cradling her cheek, he brushed at the tears that slipped down her face. “I am sorry about your dad, sweetheart. He’s a good man, and that will help him get through this. I promise you, we’ll yank him out from under her influence as soon as we can.”
Beautiful, wide brown eyes stared at Simon. Eric watched emotions parade across her face as she struggled. Finally, she let out a shaky breath.
“There’s a history museum—it’s outside of town, and I didn’t even know it existed. She has been raiding the room with the witchcraft displays . . . she has an altar set up, Simon.” Theresa clutched his hand, clearly terrified. “I’ve never seen anything like it before—and the power surrounding it is cold, ugly. She won’t let anyone near that room, but I snuck in one night, when I knew she was gone. I wish I hadn’t.”
“Can you find your way back there?” She nodded. “Up for taking a little field trip?”
“I—” She swallowed, then gave a quick nod.
“Good girl.” Leaning in, he kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”
Eric braced himself, ready to argue. Annie was not going anywhere near that place, or that—woman. Even if he had to tie her up and lock her in a closet.
“Claire.” Simon moved around the table, held out his hand. She took it—and Eric realized what Simon was going to do a second before he made his move.
He whipped out his handcuffs and had Claire attached to the arm of her chair before she could open her mouth to protest. Eric caught Annie mid-punch and hauled her out of range. “Let them work this out.”
She struggled in his arms, her breath hitching. “I can’t lose her again.”
“I have a feeling Simon will do everything in his power to keep that from happening.”
When she stopped fighting him he pulled her into his side, and waited for the outburst.
Claire didn’t disappoint.
*
“Take these off me.” Claire snapped out the demand. If she had her power still, Simon would have been a quivering heap on the floor. “Now.”
“We negotiate, I let you go.”
“There is nothing to—damn it, Simon. I need to see that altar, to know exactly what we are up against.”
“No.” His denial was flat. And final.
Panic tickled the back of her throat. They had to end this, and fast, if Marcus were to have any chance—
“You’ll never find her without me.”
“I saw her just fine when she dropped Bertram.”
“She’ll kill you.”
“She had the chance once before, and she walked away with me still breathing.”
“It hardly means she’ll leave you that way a second time—not when she has so much at stake.”
“Claire’s right,” Mindy Kay said, pushing to her feet. Red hair brushed her shoulder as she tilted her head, gaze on Simon. “I’ll go along with whatever plan you devise, but I won’t stand by and watch you throw your life away in a snit of stubborn.”
Claire couldn’t stop herself—laughter burst out of her. Simon crossed his arms, stared at her, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” she said, fighting to control it. “Sorry. But that is exactly what you will be doing, if you refuse my help. If you try to face her on your own.”
“I won’t lose anyone else to her.”
“Then we come up with a plan that keeps it from happening. We, Simon. You’re not alone this time. You don’t need to do this alone.”
He closed his eyes, but not before she saw the grief flare in their depths. After a long minute, he looked at her.
“And you have something in mind.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
TWELVE
They crouched behind the bushes that lined the gravel driveway, watching an impossible number of people come and go. Claire nodded every time Simon glanced at her. All of them wore the darkness that marked them as possessed—and the entire place snapped with an unnatural cold that pierced to the bone.
Claire could smell the iron in Simon’s duffle, and the rock salt in the rounds loaded in his shotgun. She still wanted to cringe away from it, centuries of instinct pushing at her. To distract herself, she moved to Theresa, laid one hand on her shoulder.
Theresa looked at her, eyes exhausted, her face drawn and too pale. Leaning in, Claire whispered, her voice more breath than sound.
“I want you to stay close—”
“My dad—”
“I need you to stay focused. If we find him in there, we will do what we can.”