“What the—”
“Annie’s fine, Zach.” Mom shook her head at him. “But I still want you to go home and rest,” she said, laying both hands on the counter. Zach noticed the lack of rings, which meant she’d lost weight again. She wouldn’t wear them, since they kept slipping off. Another thing they’d have to talk about; maybe it was time for him to come home. “With your due date so close, I don’t want you tiring yourself.”
“And when did you become the boss of me?”
Zach blinked, his mouth hanging open. Annie looked the same, but the anger spewing out of her made Mom take a step back. “That was not my intention, Annie.” She kept her own voice low and even. Zach recognized the tone she used when she talked to irate customers. “You are officially on maternity leave, and now that Marcus and I are back, you can go on home.” She moved around the counter, ignoring Annie’s cursing as she all but pulled Annie off the stool and guided her to the front door. “Thank you for hanging out here. Now go home.”
“Fine!” Annie jerked out of her grip. “Stop manhandling me, and I’ll get out of your hair. Better yet, let’s make that permanent, since you obviously don’t need my worthless, fat self hanging around anymore. I quit.”
She yanked the door open—so hard the bell over the door snapped off its ring and bounced across the floor.
“Annie—”
She turned on Mom, one clenched fist ready to lash out. Marcus stopped Zach before he could lunge forward.
“Stay away from me, demon. I don’t want you or those freaks anywhere near my family. Try and die.” She stalked across the sidewalk, almost knocking an old woman off her feet. “Stay the hell out of my way—can’t you see I’m pregnant? Where’s my respect as a mommy-to-be?”
“Damn,” Zach said. Both Mom and Marcus looked at him. “Hormones gone wild.”
Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Yes. That is exactly what it looks to be. But underneath—did you feel it, Claire? The same energy?”
Mom nodded, leaning against the door. She looked shocked, and defeated.
“Mom?” Zach moved to her, draped his arm across her shoulders. “You know she didn’t mean it. Annie wouldn’t—”
“Reject us? I know, Zach. And I would blame this James for her outburst. But she swears she had no customers, no one until we showed up, claiming that she broadcast some sort of ridiculous panic message. Her words.” She touched Zach’s cheek, a comfort he didn’t realize he missed, and stared out at the street. “The whole conversation felt wrong. I’m going to call Eric, give him a heads up just in case she’s still unstable when he sees her.”
Mom walked over to the counter, grabbed the portable phone and took it with her into the back. Zach glanced over at Marcus. “You don’t think it was just hormones.”
“Annie has always had an edge to her power. One she has easily suppressed, simply because her conscience would not allow her to travel that path. What I saw, what I felt from her was that edge, that darkness. Like your mother, she has somehow let it take her over.” Realization flashed in his eyes. “Only Annie did not push it back down. We cannot leave Eric vulnerable. Claire!”
He stalked to the back of the shop. Zach knew they would go after Annie, play protector, bodyguard, exorcist—whatever was required, because that was what they did, who they were to each other. Zach let the guilt he always pushed down prick him. Mom and Marcus stayed apart, even though a blind person could tell they were crazy in love, because Zach whined about not being the center of attention.
That stopped—now. Mom deserved to be happy. Marcus made her happy. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to find his own place in the world. After the last six months he could never go back to just being Claire Wiche’s son. He had talents, skills—they may be unique, but he could use them, maybe help someone, make up for all that Mom sacrificed so he could become human.
Mom’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Eric is meeting us at the house. I need you there, Marcus, in case—”
“I will not let harm come to her, or the baby. I promise you, sweet.” He framed Mom’s face, kissed her forehead. Zach gave them as much privacy as he could.
“Zach.” Moving to him, she reached out, took his hand. “I want you to—”
“I’m going.” She raised one eyebrow, and gave him her I know what’s best for you look.
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with. I want you out of the line of fire until we do.”