Gathering of Angels(49)

With a watery laugh, Claire moved to her. Annie met her halfway, hugging her so tightly Claire could barely take in a breath. When she let go, Claire wiped at her eyes, started to touch things as she moved around.

Annie was right. Claire noticed where she expanded certain stock, condensed items that never sold well, and changed the flow just enough so the customers could impulse buy their way through the shop. Swallowing more tears, she halted at the back, pressed her fingers to her eyes.

She never expected to stand here again, to breathe in the scent of lavender and the subtle spice of incense. Coming home wasn’t real, until now.

“Hey—” One arm curled around her waist. More than anything, Annie’s acceptance of her left Claire speechless, and deeply grateful. “There’s someone here to see you.”

The smile should have warned her.

She stepped out of the back. Mildred toddled up to her, capturing her in a surprisingly strong embrace before Claire could escape, and started scolding the moment she let go.

“Where have you been all this time? Your assistant can’t read the cards worth spit, which means I’ve had to go to that snob Agatha over at The Witch’s Way, trying not to gag on all the patchouli she douses herself in.”

Claire couldn’t help herself. She let out a delighted laugh, took the old woman’s hands. “I’m happy to see you, Mildred. We will absolutely make an appointment for you.” With the ease of long practice, Claire guided her to the door. “I am back on full time starting tomorrow, so you come in then. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Claire closed the door and turned to Annie. “I should force you to do the reading, but since you apparently can’t read the cards worth spit, I suppose I’ll have to make the sacrifice.”

Annie bowed. “Thank you, my noble friend, for putting your head on the block for—uh-oh.”

Claire turned around, following Annie’s line of sight. Her heart skipped when she saw Marcus standing outside the door.

The moment they returned to Santa Luna, he thanked Eric for tending him, refused to look at her, and climbed out of the van, walking away. Since then there had been nothing—no note, no phone call—nothing to let her know he was all right. Until now.

He wore his customary black, his left arm in a sling. She noticed the silver hamsa earring back in place, winking through his hair. His face was pale and remote as marble. Bracing herself, she opened the door and stepped aside.

“It’s good to see you, Marcus.” He looked down at her. None of the gold that marked his power laced the jade green eyes. “Did you want to sit—”

“I am no invalid.” More than anger snapped through his voice. It was the other that kept Claire from booting him out.

“Okay.” Annie moved around the counter, a too wide smile on her face. “Hey, Marcus. Missed you around here.” She backed across the shop. “I’m going to go somewhere, and do—something.”

Claire watched her best friend desert her—and did not blame her one bit.

With a steadying breath, she turned and faced Marcus. “The offer to sit was out of courtesy. I would do it even for a stranger.”

Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I seem to be offending everyone, even those strangers. Forgive me, Claire.” When he lowered his hand the anger was gone, replaced by a bone deep exhaustion.

“Sit. Now.” She led him to the reading table, then grabbed two bottles of water from the small fridge in the back room and—her leftover roast beef sandwich. An ache speared through her.

Setting everything on the table, she watched him take a long drink of the water, and smile when he opened the sandwich. “Please, tell me this is one of Lily’s creations.”

“The one and only.” He took a bite, humming with pleasure as he devoured the rest of it. Color returned to his face, and he eased back in the chair, tipping the bottle for the last of the water. “Better?”

He nodded, set the empty bottle on the table. “Claire—”

“No apologies, no explanations. What you endured was beyond enduring, and I am to blame for it.”

Marcus surged to his feet. “I have never—”

“And I am grateful—Marcus, no—”

He kept coming around the table and pulled Claire to her feet, right into his embrace. She held on, his body warm, strong, and no longer wracked by the poison that nearly killed him.

“Even knowing what would happen after, I would come for you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, tightening his grip. “I will always come for you, sweet, should you need me.”

Pain squeezed her heart, and she closed her eyes. “You’re leaving.”