Rest For The Wicked(21)

Claire pushed off the bed. “Annie—”

“She is fine,” Marcus said. He eased her to the floor, cradled her cheek for a moment, then took her hand, resting his free hand on the man’s leg. “Dark magic—gods.” He lowered his head, his hand shaking. “This is an ugly spell. Stand away from him, Claire—this is going to be quick and dirty, and I don’t know if I can contain it before it finally dies.”

She slid along the wall, watching the shadow that lay over the man flinch away from the deep gold light surrounding Marcus’ fingers. Then the shadow attacked.

“Marcus!”

“Stay back—” His voice cut off as the shadow spun up and engulfed him.

Claire leapt forward, grabbing his hand just as it slipped free of Annie’s fingers. Agony clawed her. Fighting it, she laid her hand over Annie’s and opened herself.

Power swept through her, chasing the darkness. It burst free, coiling around the shadow like a gold rope. A high-pitched scream split the air. Fury drove into her. She doubled, the pain of it an icy knife in her gut. Shaking, she kept the link intact, the side of the bed holding her up as she watched Marcus wrangle in the shadow.

It fought, clawed, shrieked—but inch by agonizing inch it shrank away from the coils of gold until they circled it in a net of power. He closed his fist, and the net became a solid ball. A final scream tore out of the shadow before it pulled into itself and winked out.

Marcus collapsed, cradling his right hand. Easing Annie’s power back to the source, Claire crawled over to him.

“Let me see.”

“There is nothing—gods—”

Claire cupped her hand around his, pried his fingers open.

“Oh, Marcus.” Every inch of skin on his palm was scorched black. “Look at me.”

After a long moment, he obeyed. She searched his eyes for the gold that would tell her he still had power. It had been swallowed by the green, and the green was layered with shadows.

“I had to—draw in more than I planned.” Pain scoured his low voice. “You will not even try, Claire. I can neutralize what remains of the spell.”

“Your hand—”

“Will wait. He is coming around.” Marcus pulled away, using the bed to help him stand. “Welcome back.”

“Where—” Clear blue eyes blinked up at Marcus, the rage that was in them gone. “Who the hell—God, my head is killing me.”

“It should,” Claire said, easing herself up. She moved past Marcus, ignoring his warning growl, and sat next to her attacker. Sweat streaked his dark blonde hair, plastered it to his forehead. Every injury from their brief, desperate battle had been healed. “You’ve been under a spell for days. A nasty spell.” She laid one hand on his bound wrist. “It is the reason you are tied to my bed.”

“A—what?” He stared at them like they had just rolled off the crazy truck. “I’ve been sick. My sister—” Grief darkened his eyes, clawed through his voice. “My sister died recently, and—” He closed his eyes. “I don’t remember much of it. Except you.” He looked up at Claire, an echo of the rage crossing his face. The wrist under her hand jerked against the rope. “I was looking for you.”

“And you found me.” She closed her hand over his, felt him let go. “What is your name?”

“Eric. Eric Malone.”

“Welcome to my home, Eric. I’m Claire—and I’m afraid you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.”



*



Annie cornered Claire in the kitchen, furious that she would even think of feeding the man who nearly killed her.

“He had no say, Annie.” Claire calmly put together a tray of cheese, fruit and crackers, but Annie saw how her fingers shook. “And we have a chance to find out who did this to him before they can trap another victim.”

“You need to sit down.” Annie nudged her aside, finished loading the tray. “I’d be happier if you took something and checked out for a couple of days.”

“Look that bad, do I?”

Annie gripped the counter, her own exhaustion shredding her already frayed patience.

“You almost died, Claire. If I hadn’t run into that lying bastard out there, you would have. No question. And don’t you dare contradict me.” She let out a ragged breath and hauled Claire into her arms. “Don’t you dare.”

“Annie.”

Claire wrapped both arms around her, her touch soothing, calming Annie even though she wanted to stay mad. Resting her cheek against Claire’s hair, she simply held on. Claire felt so fragile, so delicate—even that iron core of power that always awed Annie felt cracked. And all the worry she’d kept to herself the past few months tumbled out.