Rest For The Wicked(20)
She sailed out of the room.
“Your Annie does know how to take charge.”
Claire tried not to smile, since it hurt. Who was she kidding? Breathing hurt.
“It comes in handy when I’ve just been smacked down.” Carefully, she leaned back, her nerves still on high alert. “Any ideas on our current problem?”
“I have one,” Annie said. She set a tray loaded with leftovers from the fridge and several bottles of water on the coffee table, then sat next to it, handing them each a bottle before she started piling food on two plates. “You’re talking about possessed boy, am I right? I met him the other day, at Billie’s.”
Claire almost jumped off the sofa. “When? Did he—”
“The first day of the festival, and he didn’t do a thing. He was so drunk I had to pour him into a cab. I could tell he was hurting over something. Gut hurting. He was at your store, too. God—yesterday. I forgot, with everything else going on.” This time Claire stood. Annie waved her off, kept calmly loading food on a plate. “Sit down, before I have to pick you up off the floor. He just showed up, looked like someone punched him in the gut, and ran out. I went after him.”
“Did he—”
“Not a thing. Except put me off when I tried to help him.” She handed them each a plate, then started her own. “Anyway, here’s my idea, because now I can help him. You siphon off my power.”
“Absolutely—”
“—not.” Marcus finished Claire’s protest. “You have no idea what you are offering—”
“I’m not talking to you,” Annie said. “Ever.”
“Annie.” Claire took her hand. “You can’t be part of this.”
“Here’s a question: how are you going to exorcise whatever nasty he’s got crawling in his soul when you can’t even stand up on your own?”
Marcus touched Claire’s shoulder. “She has a point.”
Annie glared at him. “I wasn’t talking to—”
“Get used to talking to him, Annie.” Claire let out a sigh, then scrubbed at her face. “As much as I don’t like the idea, he’s part of this. And I really don’t like it, but so are you.”
*
They ended up tying him to Claire’s bed—and all of them had their share of bruises for the effort. He fought like a madman, lunging at Claire every chance he got, until Marcus cursed in a language Claire had not heard for longer than she cared to count, and punched the man.
Looking down at him now, Claire could see the shadow of the spell surrounding him. It coated him like tar, thick and ugly. She didn’t know if they had the strength left to remove it. And she did not want to use Annie to do so.
It seemed, at this point, she had no choice.
“Annie.” She turned to her friend. “Pull up two chairs, and take off your jewelry.”
Claire sat in the first chair, took off her bloodstained sweater, gripped her amethyst pendant in one hand, then held out her other to Annie. Fingers linked, they stared at each other.
“I can’t—” Claire took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to do this.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Annie tightened her grip. “I’m a screw up when it comes to my own spells, but I know I have enough in here to help you help him. He’s in pain, isn’t he?”
“More than even he realizes. But he’ll feel it, once the barrier is gone. You ready?”
Swallowing, Annie nodded. Claire squeezed her hand, then focused on her pendant, let the heat from it flow through her. Annie’s hand jerked when the heat touched her, then slid in, past the flimsy defense her mind had thrown up. I have to give her better protection. She put it on her mental list and kept inching forward.
Annie tensed, gasping when Claire’s power found her center. With a hoarse cry she yanked free. Claire reeled, pain tearing through her at the sudden severing.
“I’ve got you, now.” Marcus caught her before she toppled to the floor, brushed sweat soaked hair off her cheek. “You are more drained than you let on, witch. Give this task to me—”
“I’m the one he tried to kill—”
“Which means he will be most resistant to you.”
“Damn.” Claire met his eyes, her own exhaustion mirrored in the jade green depths. “You don’t have much more left yourself.”
“Ah, but I am more skilled at taking the power of others.” His smile lightened the exhaustion. “Sit this one out, Claire. You can tend to him while we try and break the spell.”
Nodding, she made her way around the bed, sat next to the unconscious man. Marcus lowered himself to the chair, ignored Annie’s snap of temper and took her hands. She opened her mouth—then slumped forward, her face shock pale.