ELEVEN
Since Claire refused to tell her what time she would be arriving at the airport, Annie sent a taxi to get her, with specific instructions to wait until Claire showed, not take no for an answer, and bring her back to the store.
Annie waited outside when her taxi pulled up. The Art Nouveau streetlamps came on as she stepped off the sidewalk.
“Thank you so much, I’ll take her,” she said to the driver, who helped Claire climb out of the back seat. “Thank you for bringing her home.”
“Pleasure, miss.”
He pocketed the envelope of cash Marcus insisted on providing, then drove off.
“I’m taking you home, Claire, and staying. No argument.” Claire didn’t argue, didn’t say a word as Annie wrapped one arm around her waist and led her to the car. A bruise stood out on her left cheek, nearly black against her too pale skin. Dark circles smudged the skin under her eyes. She looked—broken. “In you go—take your time, honey, I’m in no hurry.”
Claire moved slowly, like she was in pain, but she didn’t make a sound. When Annie grabbed her right arm to help her into the passenger seat, she saw the heavy bandage on Claire’s wrist, the scrapes and bruises on her fingers. Oh, she was getting answers, all right. But she would let Claire sleep for about twenty hours before she went on the attack.
*
“I can’t tell you any more, Annie.” Claire’s throat was raw, every muscle aching. She hardly slept, and finally gave up trying just after sunrise. “I need to know you are safe—”
“And the less I know the better, blah blah blah.” Annie settled beside her on the sofa, touched her left hand. “I’m not leaving until you tell me why you’re so damn scared for me.”
With a sigh, Claire closed her eyes. She had already lost too much time, and if she did not get rid of Annie soon, it would leave her little time to pack what she needed and return to finish what she started with Natasha. With what Natasha had become.
“Natasha is killing people. I have to stop her. Any other questions?”
“Yeah.” Annie crossed her arms. “What army you planning on taking with you?” Claire looked at her, suddenly afraid that her friend already knew more than she should. “A sergeant called from the police station, Claire; you put my number as your emergency contact on the police report. I know what you did to save that girl. Whatever’s wrong with Natasha, you can’t take her on alone.”
“She is—”
“Your family. Yeah, well, so am I.” Tears stung Claire’s eyes. “And I’m taking the right as family and saying hell no. You won’t do this on your own.”
Claire didn’t know whether to laugh or panic.
“Annie—”
“Nope. And you try to sneak out like that again, I’ll sic two big, strong men on you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you owe one of those men an apology.”
“Marcus.” Claire lowered her head, shame heating her face. “Is he all right?”
“An out of joint nose, broken fingers, some bruises. He’ll live. Lucky for him Eric has medical experience.” Claire looked up. “He’s a vet.” Annie’s smile was contagious.
“Did Eric mention it before or after he treated Marcus?”
“After.” Her smile faded. “You’re not going back alone, Claire.”
“I will not involve you in this—”
“Too bad, and too late. I’m your friend.” She closed both hands over Claire’s shoulders, gave her a little shake. “Your family, damn it, so that makes me involved. What is so bad that you can’t tell me? I know it’s some big ugly—I’ve known for a while that you’ve been doing everything short of lying to me about the big ugly.”
Claire swallowed. “Annie—”
“I’m not stupid. I know you’re different, and not the ‘I’m a witch’ different. Why don’t you trust me?”
“Oh, Annie.” The pain in her friend’s voice squeezed her heart. Claire never planned to create such ties, but Annie simply wormed her way in, and stuck. “You are the only person I trust.”
“Then why—”
“Because there’s nothing to tell.” Claire hated the lie, hated telling it. “I learned to practice in secret.” That much was true. “It simply became habit.”
“Right. Habit.” Annie stood, gathering up the breakfast Claire didn’t eat. “When I come back, you’re going to bed. You look like death—again.”
Claire let out a shaky breath after Annie disappeared into the kitchen, aware that she was not off the hook yet. She knew that tone; Annie was furious. But she would rather have furious than repulsed. No matter how much Annie pushed or argued, she was never going to know anything about Claire’s past.