Gathering of Angels(7)

Swallowing, she pushed it aside, and started a slow but steady pace toward the distant town. A cool breeze helped dry the sweat on her face, tugged at the badly tangled ends of her hair; she used a bandana she found in the kitchen to tie it back, but she had a feeling she would lose more than a little to damage. The brisk air told her that summer was gone, or nearly so, which put her battle with Natasha at months.

No wonder she felt hollowed out.

Another thing she had to deal with was Azazel’s startling revelation. She had a soul. She was mortal. And to add to the already overwhelming—she had no power. Not even a wisp to bolster her fading strength. That made her completely and utterly human. She understood now the real meaning of vulnerable.

Just a few minutes into her trek she started to get lightheaded. Stopping next to a signpost, she leaned against it, wiped at the sweat that formed faster than the breeze could dry it. Her fingers shook, and she wanted to sink to the ground and sleep for a while.

With a mental slap she pushed off the post, and started moving again. She could sleep as long as she wanted once she was home. Once she was safe.

The sound of a car behind her turned Claire around. She halted when it pulled in front of her, the black letters on the side riveting her in place. Huntsville Police.

Since everything she wore was stolen, and probably easy to identify if this was as small a town as she suspected, the local cops were not going to be inclined to help her.

A woman stepped out of the car, tall, lean and blonde. Just like Annie. An ache spread through her before she could shut down the thought. Swallowing, she watched the woman approach her, wind catching the long, honey blonde hair.

“Afternoon, miss.” Pale blue eyes scrutinized her. “You in need of some help?”

“I—” Using her voice for the first time doubled her over as her throat clamped shut. Strong hands caught her, eased her to the ground.

“Easy, now. I’m going to get you some water. Stay put.” Claire clutched the ground when the supporting hands let go. One arm slipped around her waist a minute later, helped Claire sit. “Take a drink, there’s a good girl.” Fingers pushed back damp hair that had come loose from the bandana. “Who hurt you?”

“No one,” Claire whispered. She coughed, her throat inflamed. Another sip of water helped cool it.

“Then someone did something you don’t remember, or want to, left you out here naked. I know Joe didn’t lend you his favorite overalls—barely lets his own wife touch them. Now, you going to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t—remember.” That much was true. She had no memory of the journey back. “Where—” she coughed again, took another sip. “Where am I?”

“Gold Country. About sixty miles, give or take, above Sacramento. You have anyone here?”

“Not here. Orange County.”

“Good.” The woman helped her stand, one finger brushing across the triquetra on her left wrist. “Nice tattoo.”

Claire looked up at her—and stilled at the darkness that curled around the woman. Tendrils of shadow caressed the woman’s shoulders, her cheeks, then slipped out of sight, as if sensing Claire’s attention. And left behind a sense of horror, an icy touch that shook her.

“—name? Can you tell me your name?” The arm around her waist tightened, the cold that surrounded her fading. “Are you okay?”

“Yes—sorry. My name is Claire.”

“There, now, that’s a start.” She led Claire to the car. “We’ll just take you in, find you something to wear so Joe don’t have heart failure over his missing clothes, and see what we can find out about what happened to you. Someone’ll be missing you, so we’ll start with that.” Opening the back door, she settled Claire, fastened her seat belt. “I’m Heather.”

“Pretty name.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “And my fellow officers never let me forget that. Relax, now. We’ll be there before you know it.” Leaning in, she curled her fingers around the back of Claire’s neck, that darkness coiling around her again. The iced grip burned into Claire’s skin. “And we will find out the truth, by whatever means necessary.”

It took every ounce of control Claire had not to recoil from the barely contained rage in her voice.

Heather let go and straightened, closing the door. By the time she slid into the driver’s seat the darkness and cold were gone, her voice the same easy drawl that first greeted Claire. “You’ll need to answer some questions when we get to the station. You up for that?”

Swallowing, Claire managed a single word. “Yes.”