What Doesn't Kill You(39)

“I’m right here. Eric, get in the car. We’re on our way, Annie.” She closed the door and ran around to the driver’s side. “Eric—get in the car.” He blinked, and nodded, pulling the door open and all but falling inside. “Okay, kids. Here we go.”



*



Claire banished herself from the delivery room. She still had no idea how much control she exerted over the demon, and she had shed some of the removable barriers for the wedding.

She knew the demon was still there, because her tattoo healed. Overnight. And the last of the burns on her left wrist were gone, along with the gouges in her forearm and the still raw wound from James’ sharpened cross. Not only was she healing as fast as in her prime, she felt strong, and whole, for the first time in over a year.

For now she pushed the issue aside. But it would have to be dealt with, whether Marcus wanted to or not. She had a feeling the demon was back for good.

Zach burst into the large waiting room, pale but excited, Marcus talking to him. He headed straight for Claire and lifted her off the floor in an enthusiastic hug.

“Mom—I drove the Jag!”

“That’s—great, sweetheart.” Her knees felt weak at just the thought of him behind the wheel of that powerful, dangerous car.

“It’s okay—Marcus made me stay at the speed limit. Most of the time.” He flashed a grin over at Marcus, who shrugged, an equally stupid grin on his face. Claire shook her head. Boys and their toys. They never grew up. “How’s Annie?”

“In labor.” He blinked, the last of the color draining from his face. “You can stay out here with me, if you like. Eric is with her.”

“Yeah—I think that would be best.” She had never seen him look so relieved at being stuck with her company. “Marcus?”

“I believe I will go in search of cigars, for the soon-to-be father.” Before Claire could stop him he strode out, just as half the reception came rushing in, everyone talking at once.

Theresa got to her first, clutching her hand. “How is Annie?”

“She’s doing well—almost to the end now.” Claire brushed hair off her cheek. “How are you doing?” Simon was the second person Theresa had lost in the last year, after her father died trying to stop a witch determined to take over his town.

“Okay. It hurt, hearing about Simon. But this, and you and Marcus—being a part of it helps. A lot. Thanks,” she said, wrapping her arms around Claire. “Thanks for including me.”

Surprised by the spontaneous show of emotion, since Theresa always held back in front of her, Claire returned the hug, holding on to her. “You are always welcome, sweetheart.”

“Claire!” Eric rushed in, looking frantic. He spotted her and sprinted over, pulling her away from Theresa. “Annie needs you—hell, I need you in there. She’s not happy right now.”

“Eric.” Panic shot through her. “I don’t think I should—”

“Do you think I’d ask if I even thought you’d be a threat? I trust you, with every life in there.” He started for the doorway, dragging her behind him. “We’d better get back, or Annie will haul herself off that bed and come looking for us.”

Claire had no argument for that. Since she could actually picture Annie doing it, she let Eric take her back into the delivery room. The demon had been quiet since she went over the cliff with James, but she knew it was there, behind her soul. That her friends still trusted her was more than she deserved. She was determined to be worthy of that trust.

She walked into organized chaos.

“Claire!” Annie lay on the bed, her knees already drawn up and her doctor, the unflappable Karen Meecham, sitting on a wheeled stool at the end of the bed. Annie lay on the bed, clutching the thin sheet, her curls so wet they were plastered to her head. Claire moved forward, took the hand stretched out toward her. “I don’t want to do this—I’m not ready—what if I’m a horrible mother—oh, shit—”

She cursed in between gasping breaths as she rode out another contraction. Sitting at her feet, Dr. Meecham rubbed her bare leg. “You’re doing just fine, Annie. We’re almost there. Talk to her, Claire. It will help take her mind off the pain.”

Claire leaned over, fingered sweat soaked hair off Annie’s cheek. “You and Eric are going to be the best parents. Look what you did with Zach; if you can wrangle a teenager, this will be a breeze.”

“But what about—you know.” She mouthed the word “magic” and tightened her already bone-cracking grip on Claire’s hand. “We never—damn—”