What Doesn't Kill You(14)

“I will give you whatever you want.” She felt tears sting her eyes. “Just don’t take this feeling away from me.”

“It is yours, Annie. Your power. It’s always been inside of you, waiting to be released.” J.J. sandwiched her hand, the deck pressing against her palm. “Come, tell me my future. The cards will sing for you now. Your power will—ouch!” He snatched his hand away. “What the hell—”

Her ring pulsed, the red sparks drowned by a brilliant silver. The darkness inside her retreated, leaving a sense of ugly she never wanted to feel again.

“No—” J.J. reached for her. The silver lashed out, slicing into his hand. “Shit—why are you fighting it? We could have anything we want, be anything we want—”

“Not in this lifetime, creep.” He screamed, a frustrated, furious scream that had her arm hairs standing on end. And pain ripping through her stomach. She doubled, clutching her stomach as she dropped to her knees. “No,” she whispered, as another pain threatened to tear her in half. “Please, no—”

She felt her left shoulder hit the floor, and the tarot cards fell out of her hand as she curled around her stomach. She barely heard the cursing, scrambling man when he snatched up the cards. The door chime told her she was alone. Safe from him, but alone with her pain.

“Claire,” she whispered, fingers digging in, trying to reach the pain. “Please hear me—God, please let her hear me . . .”

Her vision faded as the pain turned agonizing. With no breath to scream, she focused what strength she had left on the one soul, the one person who might feel.

Zach.



*



Zach did more listening than talking as Mom and Marcus considered and discarded plans to lure James. He had some ideas of his own, but he was pretty sure Mom wouldn’t go for any of them.

Slipping the uneaten half of Mom’s sandwich to his plate when she reached for more chips, he flashed a grin at her. She shook her head, laughing.

“My own personal bottomless pit. What am I going to do with—”

Agonizing pain blotted out the rest of her words. Zach doubled over, barely aware of the hands that caught him. He did feel the floor under him, heard Mom’s voice filter through the haze.

“Zach. I’m right here, sweetheart.” Mom’s low, quiet voice filtered through the pain. “He was fine a moment ago.”

Warm hands covered his, and he felt the familiar heat of Marcus throwing out his healing power. The pain loosened its hold, enough for him to roll on to his back without retaliation. Only one thought, one image filled his mind.

“Annie,” he whispered, his throat raw, like he’d been screaming.

“God above.” Mom took his hand.

Marcus stood. “Meet me there.” He ran toward the back door.

“Zach, sweetheart—can you sit?” He nodded, hoping it was true. Mom helped him, and he knew she wanted to leave him, go after Marcus. “Is it Annie? The baby?” Her voice came out a choked whisper.

“Yeah—but not that.” Touching her wrist, he let out some of the healing power he used to help Marcus save her in England. Healing he remembered having before he fell. “Her power is attacking her. Part of her power I’ve never felt or seen. It’s dark, Mom, ugly.” He couldn’t stop himself; he shuddered, the taint of it still inside.

“You could—feel her. See her power.”

“Ever since the fire elemental, I’ve been, um, rediscovering myself.”

She let out a sigh. “We’ll talk about this later. If you want to, of course.” Her sudden retreat hurt, more than he thought it would. Mom paced him as he stood, her face too pale. As usual, she was hiding her weakness from him. They’d talk about that, too. “I need to go to Annie. If you want to rest—”

“I’m fine, Mom. Go ahead—I’ll catch up.”

Zach waved her off, and she walked fast across the living room, running down the alley by the time he reached the back porch.

Leaning against the doorframe, he took in a shallow breath, shaky fingers gripping his amethyst. He remembered being able to sense someone’s pain when he’d been an angel, but he didn’t remember being dropped by it. Not like this. It felt like a hot knife shoved in his gut.

Because the pain was all but gone, he figured Marcus got to Annie. So he took his time walking to the shop, still feeling off. He moved through the back room and made his way to the front, halting as the three of them came into view.

Annie sat behind the counter, sucking on a glass of iced tea and reading a magazine. She looked like she’d been there a while. No pain radiated from her—not one ounce of what knocked him down.