Rest For The Wicked (5 page)

“Which I thought was a fun way to bring people in.”

Annie smiled.

“Thanks. So did I—until she shot it down. I need to find another studio, before I end up incarcerated for strangling her.”

Laughing, Claire gave up on sorting the crystals and came around the counter to give Annie a hug.

“I have some friends I can call. The studio won’t be in walking distance, but they would be happy to have such a skilled instructor.”

“Are you kidding me? That would be fantastic!”

Annie started to dance around the shop, her tiered skirt flaring out as she whirled past. Her enthusiasm was infectious—several customers who came in smiled at her, and one little girl joined in, her laughter ringing in the air.

Claire leaned against the counter and simply enjoyed. She lived for days like this—when sheer happiness outshined everything else, and the air sparkled with it.

Annie danced back to Claire, grabbed her hands and swung her around. Laughing, Claire held on. They both collapsed against the counter, smiling at each other. Then Claire straightened, adjusted her sweater, brushed her hair over her shoulders and approached her customers.

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

The woman smiled. “You can give me some of what she’s having.”

Annie draped one arm around Claire’s shoulders.

“It’s elixir of best friend ever. I think she’s got some over on the shelf with the oils.”

The woman clasped Claire’s hand. “Your shop is the reason I come to the festival every year. I love the feel of it, and my husband mocks me for it, but I believe there is real magic here. And I get to take some of it home with me.”

Claire felt heat rush into her cheeks.

“Thank you. I’ve seen you in here before—can I ask your name?”

“Regina.” She squeezed Claire’s hand, then let go. “Now I’m going to buy myself some magic—for me and my daughter.”

She herded the little dancer with her to the back of the shop, laughing at the excited voice.

“That’s why you’re successful, best friend ever.” Annie kissed her cheek. “Uh-oh.”

Claire followed her line of sight—and her smile froze on her face when she spotted Mildred in the doorway, waving a flyer that gave her a free tarot reading.

“Heaven help me. Stop laughing, Annie, or I’ll make you do her reading.”

With a sigh, she moved forward, bracing herself for a long appointment and an earful of gossip.

*

E
ric stood on the sidewalk, in front of her store, thwarted for the second day in a row by the crowds swirling around him.

She was so close, just on the other side of the glass. Laughing, talking, breathing, when she was supposed to be dead.

His head pounded as he watched her, rage burning through him like acid. She wrapped one arm around an old woman’s shoulders, led her away from him, out of sight. His gut twisted, and before he could stop himself, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The scent of lavender froze him. Katelyn wore the scent—he grew up with it permanently in his nostrils, and every girl he dated always told him he smelled so pretty for a jock—

Grief threatened to double him. He reached out to grab a wall, a counter, anything to steady him. Strong fingers caught his outstretched hand.

“Hello, handsome. We meet again.” His head whipped around at the voice, and he looked into warm brown eyes. Their owner almost matched him for height, and looked familiar. She smiled as he struggled to make the connection. “Billie’s Pub, yesterday. You look better than you did then, when I—”

“Put me in a cab. I remember.” This time her touch, her light soothed instead of burned. In retaliation, the rage coiling through him snapped out. She jerked away, staring at him as she shook out her hand. “I’m—sorry. I have to go.”

He nearly ran over the young family walking into the store in his rush to be free of it. Free of her.

“Eric!” She followed him outside, touched him again. He wanted to warn her, hurt her, keep her away from him before he did something he could never take back— “I know you’re not okay, so don’t lie. But is there anything I can do?”

“Stay away from me. Please, Annie—just stay the hell away.”

She let go of him, took the light with her.

“Fine.” Crossing her arms, she stood her ground. “Just tell me why.” She didn’t even flinch when he swore. “Not the answer I was looking for.”

He almost smiled. Her humor made him feel; not the grinding hate, or the bursts of rage, but an echo of what he remembered from his life. Before he lost everything.

“I can’t give you that answer. Just stay clear of me. For your own—” Pain stabbed him. He clenched his fists, rode it out. He knew the pain was a warning, that he shouldn’t even be talking to her. “Goodbye, Annie.”

“Eric.” He paused, his back to her. “Whatever it is that’s hurting you, I hope you find your way past it.”

Swallowing, he kept walking. And let her words fill him, for just a minute, before the rage claimed him again.

*

“
Y
ou can do this,” Annie said to herself, her fingers shaking as she pushed her hair back. “You
can
do this.”

Opening the notebook, she skimmed the love spell she’d composed that morning—and ignored the guilt scratching at her conscience for lying outright to Claire.

She had learned so much more since that first unfortunate—incident. And she had been practicing. Another little detail she failed to mention after Claire’s last lecture on the dangers of using magic when she wasn’t ready.

She adjusted the cloak on her shoulders and checked everything on the makeshift altar. One pink candle, bought at Claire’s competitor—another scratch at her guilt. A small bowl, holding the herbs for her love powder. A bottle of rose oil, also bought at the competitor. A lighter for the candle, and the photo Mildred had given her: a charming man who looked like he was in his late sixties. A bit young for Mildred, but at least they were born in the same part of the century.

She carved his name into the side of the candle with her athame, and set it in the center of the cloth, next to his photo. Mildred’s photo sat on the other side of the candle. Mixing the herbs, she rubbed them on the candle, then anointed it with the oil. She also rubbed both the powder and oil on his photo, then Mildred’s, to create a connection.

Feeling a little silly, she picked up Mildred’s photo, lit the candle, and held the photo up in front of her, Mildred’s face looking down at her intentioned target.

Taking a deep breath, she started the spell.

“
As this candle burns, so does your love for me,

As this wax melts, so does your heart for me,

By the power of three times three,

As I will, so mote it be!
”

After the third time through the table began to shake.

“Uh-oh—” Annie let out a scream as the candle flame shot up and spread across the ceiling. “Oh God!”

She stumbled backward—and fell when she tripped over the stool she’d set behind her just in case. Crawling toward the hall, she tried to call up a counter spell. The fire merely cackled at her and kept coming.

“Where the hell is the extinguisher?” Smoke swirled around her. She coughed, using the velvet of her cloak to keep from breathing in more of it. The same cloak hindered every movement, tangling around her arms, her legs, a living creature bent on stopping her. “Come on—”

She could no longer see through the smoke, her lungs on fire, her eyes blinded by tears. Flattening herself against the floor, she focused on moving. She refused to die here, to let a stupid love spell kill her in the one place she felt safe—

“ANNIE!”

Claire burst through the smoke like an avenging angel.

Grabbing Annie, she dragged her in the opposite direction. Right past the fire extinguisher.

“Claire—”

“Stay here.”

Huddled next to the corner of the door, breathing in the small amount of fresh air seeping in through the uneven bottom, Annie watched Claire as she stood up, both arms raised. The smoke seemed to
recoil
, and when she started to chant under her breath, the fire whirled away from her.

She closed her hands into fists and the fire screamed, fleeing across the ceiling, followed by the smoke. Claire moved with them, hair flying around her as she raised a wind from nothing. That wind whipped her skirt around her legs, then surrounded the smoke, tore it into dark, writhing shreds until it let out a dying gasp and faded. Then she turned on the fire.

The wind disappeared, left only Claire. Small, defenseless, she stood inches from the burning column, trapped in the far corner of the living room. She spoke a single word.

“Leave.” The fire bulged. Annie screamed as the fire swallowed Claire—then cut herself off when the fire wrapped
around
Claire, like it hit an invisible shield. “You were not summoned. Now leave before I vanquish you.”

The fire screamed at her. And Annie watched, her mouth dropping open, as it folded in on itself until it finally disappeared.

Claire lowered her head, swaying. With a shaky breath, she pushed hair out of her face and headed for Annie.

“Claire—”

“Hush. Let me check you out.” Hands brushed over her, one settling at her throat. “How bad?” Annie coughed, her eyes tearing up. “Okay, then. Arm around me; we’ll get you over to the sofa.”

Claire half-dragged her across her small living room, lowered her to the sofa, and disappeared into the kitchen. Blinking through her tears, Annie scanned the living room. It looked like nothing had happened. No smoke damage, no scorch marks. Claire returned with a glass of water, handed it to her. “Drink.”

Annie obeyed. It felt like heaven as it slipped down her throat, soothing every raw inch. It also gave her a chance to stall, to try and sort out the thoughts flying around her mind. She knew Claire was powerful, but
seeing
it, seeing her in action— Annie wasn’t sure she could ever look at her friend the same again.

Finishing the last of the water, she took more time to stall, carefully set it on the floor next to her, and finally met the waiting gaze. Relief left her lightheaded. It was still Claire standing in front of her, exhausted and probably pissed off, but it was Claire.

“Claire, I’m—”

She held up one hand, cut Annie off.

“Not yet—I’m still far too angry.” Pulling her tangled hair back, Claire twisted it into a messy knot, then moved to the table. She studied Annie’s altar, picked up her notebook to read the spell. “A love spell. You created this havoc out of a simple love spell?”

“I didn’t—”

“Mean to do anything wrong.” With a sigh, Claire closed the notebook and set it down. “You never do, Annie. But you don’t understand your power. Worse, you don’t respect it. You raised an elemental.”

Horror flashed through her. “An—I—how could I—holy shit, Claire.”

Annie lowered her head, shaking so badly she thought she was going to throw up.

“Crude, but well said. Look at me, Annie.” One hand pressed to her stomach, Annie obeyed. Claire stood in the middle of the living room, her face white and exhausted. “You tried to cast a love spell, but instead you opened the door for a fire elemental. If I hadn’t been on my way here and felt the elemental slip through—damn it, Annie, you could have killed everyone in your building.”

Tears tightened her throat, blurred her eyes. Annie tried to blink them back—she hated crying in front of anyone, but especially Claire, since it always tore her apart emotionally. But she couldn’t stop them, knowing how close she came to disaster.

“I’m sorry—” The tears broke across her voice.

“Oh, Annie.” Claire lowered herself to the floor, her hands shaking against the hardwood. “I almost lost the battle. And if I had—”

Annie tumbled off the sofa and crawled over to her, panic overriding her tears.

“You didn’t—Claire, you beat it.” She closed her eyes, the tears stinging again when Claire wrapped one arm around her waist. “I’m so sorry—”

“Hush.” Claire pulled her in, and Annie dropped her head to Claire’s shoulder. “Cry it out, sweetheart. Just let go, Annie.”

She did, and Claire held her, rocked her, whispered comfort while she fell apart.

*

“
I
t’s time for you to either take your power seriously, or put it away for good.” Claire handed Annie a cup of green tea, doctored with a good bit of chamomile. She sat down on the sofa, watched Annie sip the tea, then make a face. “I know you don’t like chamomile, but drink it anyway. It will help.”

“I screwed up big time.”

Claire sighed, rubbing Annie’s back.

“You did what you shouldn’t have been able to do; not with that simple spell. I’ll backtrack through it, see what I can find. But I want you to finish that tea, then go to bed.”

“I want to help—”

“Not this time, sweetheart. Just your presence will interfere with what I plan on doing.” Claire brushed hair off Annie’s forehead, checking her temperature at the same time. She felt a little feverish, but not more than Claire would expect after such an expenditure of energy. Never mind being trapped by a fire elemental. “Finished?”