What Doesn't Kill You (9 page)

“It’s a crime scene,” Simon said as he returned, crouching in front of the old biddy. “So I’m afraid your great revelation will have to wait. The police will take you home, Mildred, after they get your statement.” He held out one hand to Claire. “We don’t need to stay.”

Mildred grabbed his hand. “You’re not leaving me here?”

“You are a material witness, Mildred.” Simon sandwiched her hand, gave her his complete attention. “You are the most important part of this investigation.”

“Oh,” she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering. Claire had to look twice, but yes, they fluttered. Like a love struck teenage girl. Poor Simon.

“Now, you stay here,” he pried his hand out of hers, without looking like he wanted to desperately escape, and stood. “Answer all their questions, let them take you home. Claire and I will look in on you tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Disappointment pinched her thin lips. “Claire doesn’t have to bother, not with her business to run and that loud, obnoxious boy to keep in line.”

Claire’s temper spiked. “He’s not—”

“I will be happy to check on you myself, Mildred.” Simon smiled down at her, waving Claire to the door behind his back. “You catch your breath, now. They will be here soon.”

Sirens filtered through the shop, getting louder. Simon took Claire’s arm and headed to the front door, pausing next to Agnes. Claire lowered herself to Agnes’ side, Simon coming with her. “I am so sorry, Madam Serena.” She knew Agnes would have liked her farewell from Claire to be with her flamboyant persona. “We will find him, and he will pay. I promise you.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” Simon lifted her, and they reached the door just as the first cruiser pulled up, lights flashing in the brisk fall afternoon. The few locals still out in the cold weather gathered around, a maudlin audience for the morbid performance about to happen. “Stay here.”

He strode over to the cop stepping out of the passenger side, talked quietly for a minute before the cop nodded, glancing over at Claire. Simon moved back to her, and she spoke before he opened his mouth.

“He wants to talk to me.”

“You knew Agnes.” She flinched at the past tense. “He needs your help to track her routine.”

“All right.”

Simon held out his hand. Grateful for the warmth, the strength of his grip, Claire walked over to help put a colleague to rest.

*

Z
ach hunched down at the back of the growing crowd, his throat tight as he listened to the rumors being passed around. Agnes dead. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t believe she wouldn’t come roaring out of her shop, shooing away the people blocking her potential customers. She’d intimidated him, but he respected her knowledge, and was a source he could go to that wasn’t Mom or Annie. A source who let him ask all the questions he wanted the last few months, without censor or judgment.

Mom glanced over at the crowd and he ducked down. Just being here was a violation of his promise to stay put. Zach knew she wanted him safe, but he had to take the blame for whatever rampage James was on. He took the card, knowing there would be consequences. He figured he would be the one to pay. Not an innocent bystander.

“I’m sorry, Agnes,” he whispered, ignoring the sidelong glances. “I’ll find the bastard, stop him for good—shit—”

He pulled his baseball cap down, shading his face. Mom kept looking over in his direction, as if she knew he lurked, breaking a promise he didn’t want to make. He breathed a sigh when she walked over to talk to the cops. Now he could sneak back to Annie’s, and she wouldn’t know he even left—

Fingers clamped over his arm, and the touch sent pain searing through him. “I need you to find something for me, seeker.” Zach doubled, the cap falling off as his legs buckled with the need to obey the request. James followed him down to the sidewalk, putting himself between Zach and the crowd. “I know you took the card, you stupid child. I want it back. And I will keep telling you to find it until I have it back in my hand.” His fingers dug in when Zach clutched the cement, the doubled request clawing through him. “Where is it?”

“You need to—stop.” He gasped out the words, pain tearing at him. “I can’t think.”

“Stand up. Now.” James grabbed him around the waist, hauled him up, all charm gone. He looked horrible, his nose bruised and swollen where Simon punched him. The coroner arrived, capturing the crowd’s interest. The distraction gave James an opening to drag Zach away without witnesses. “Walk.” He held up a long, narrow-bladed knife. “You attract attention, the poor sap who responds will end up like Madam Serena.”

“I’ll take you—to the card.” He fought for breath. “Just—stop telling me to find it.”

James smiled, sending a chill through him. “Find a seeker’s weakness, and you control them. Aunt Rachel told me all about your kind. I never thought I’d meet one. You are something of a legend, since you have to be a fallen angel to qualify.”

Zach closed his eyes. Part of him already knew, but hearing James say it drove despair through the pain. Stumbling, he held on to the supporting arm as James dragged him around the corner. Straight into Simon.

“Going somewhere?”

“I’ll hurt him!” James growled at Simon and pressed the tip of the knife into Zach’s right side. Pain exploded through him, clearing his head. Zach felt the power vibrating through the blade, power that could hurt the deck, maybe destroy it. He realized it was the only reason the deck hadn’t consumed James. If he survived this, maybe he could—“I’ll tear him apart inch by inch, and even your precious Jinn won’t be able to put him back together.” Fear poured off James, fear that hadn’t been there before Simon appeared.

Mom stepped out from behind Simon. “What do you want, James?”

Her calm voice set him off. “You know what I want!” Zach felt the knife shift, and the blade slid in deeper. Agony dropped him, only the arm around his waist holding him up. Mom lunged forward; Simon caught her, pulled her back. “Good choice, priest. Bring the card to your shop, and I will let him go, relatively unharmed. You have twenty minutes. Any longer, and you won’t even find the body parts.”

“You would not dare.” Mom’s voice came out a low, goose bump-raising snarl. Zach had never heard her sound like that before.

James smiled at her. “How about a demonstration of my absolute sincerity?” He inched the knife in, obviously enjoying himself. Zach couldn’t take in a breath to scream; he clawed at the blade, feeling it slice his fingers. James let go of the hilt long enough to slap his hand away, and pushed the blade in farther to punish him.

It worked. All Zach could feel was the steel in his side, hot pain spreading through him. The blade felt alive, its power brushing against his, testing. It took all his shredding focus to take in a breath.

Mom’s angry growl brought his head up. Simon tightened his grip as she lunged at them again.

“He’s hurting my son—damn it, let me go!”

“No.”

Zach opened his eyes long enough to see the anguish flash across Simon’s face.

She struggled like a wildcat. The part of Zach not fighting to stay conscious was impressed. “Damn you, let me—”

“I know what he is,” James said. Mom stilled, panic flashing in her silver-edged blue eyes. “Threaten me, and I will keep telling him to find the card until the need tears him up from the inside out. I won’t need the knife to finish him.”

“Not the shop.” Mom’s deadly quiet voice made James jump. And Zach paid when the knife jerked in his hand. “Somewhere in the open, where you can’t hide, or set a trap.”

James laughed—and Zach let out a choked cry, trying to escape as James shoved the knife all the way in, the hilt slapping his side. Mom clenched her fists, but Simon’s white knuckled grip held her in place. Her thought pushed through the agony clouding his mind.

Don’t fight him, sweetheart. Please don’t fight him.

He met Mom’s eyes, tears sliding down her face. She nodded, once.

“I will bring the card,” she said. “To the park by the cliff. Zach knows it. Open, but quiet this time of year. If he is not alive when I get there, you will wish you had never been born. Lord Bennett.”

James gasped, the arm wrapped around Zach’s waist shaking. “How—”

“You are not the only long-lived standing in this alley. I have lifetimes to hunt you down and torture you if he does not survive this day. Are we understood?”

“You just—” For the first time, James didn’t have a smooth comeback. “Get there fast! It’s up to you whether or not he bleeds out.” His breath scorched Zach’s throat. “Start walking.”

Zach stumbled when James moved, and the knife shifted. He felt himself drop, Mom’s gasp barely registering through the white-hot pain radiating from his side. It became unbearable, strangling his breath, every muscle cramping under the onslaught. He already hurt from the desperate need to find. A need he knew would be unfulfilled. Now he had to fight, to survive long enough. For Mom.

James yanked him up. “Fall and I’ll drag you, seeker.”

The word twisted into his wound. Zach doubled over the knife, heard Mom curse, fighting Simon’s grip. His only relief was knowing Simon would keep her safe. Focused on taking the next step, he moved away from Mom, not sure he would see her again; all the odds against him surviving.

EIGHT

“
C
laire!” Simon’s voice finally penetrated the rage. “Stop fighting me. We need to work together, or Zach will die.”

The last words got through, and she relaxed. “I’m fine. You can let go, Simon.”

After an endless hesitation, he turned her around. Those clear, sharp green eyes studied her. “I’m not falling for it, Claire.”

She let out her breath, forced herself to keep calm, to wait for the right moment. “You’re right—we have to do this together.”

Simon frowned. Claire thought she sounded normal. But the rage threatening to consume her was leaking out, and he heard it. Or saw it. She had to get away from him before—

“You’re planning to face him alone.”

And the gig was up.

“I am sorry, Simon.” Claire grabbed his arm and dragged him down to the end of the alley. Her free hand flipped the metal lid of the dumpster open like it weighed nothing. “No one else is going to be hurt. Not when I can stop him.”

“Claire—” She grabbed the front of his denim jacket, ready to toss him in the empty dumpster. His voice caused her to pause mid lift. “Let your friends help you.”

“Damn it, Simon.” She dropped him to his feet. “Go get Marcus and Eric. Tell them it’s the cliff where I fought Natasha—they will understand. Do not let Annie anywhere near me, do you understand?”

His eyes narrowed. “Claire, you’re not—”

“She can’t be put in that kind of danger—”

“You’re not the demon.” He gripped her shoulders and yanked her forward, forcing her to look at him. She could have thrown him down the alley—he had to know that. Why wasn’t he afraid of her? “I can see you—
you
, Claire. The same clear light I’ve always seen surrounding you. Do you get it? Whatever is giving you this power, it’s not dark, or evil. Believe me, I’d know.”

She stared at him, hope creeping in through the despair. “All the signs are there, Simon—what I’ve lived with, fought against, for centuries.”

He cradled her cheek. “Have you ever thought it may be the real you—the angel, finally finding a way out of the darkness?”

“God above—” She couldn’t—she didn’t have time for this. Unhooking the chain that held her amethyst heart, she took it off, turned Simon’s hand over and laid it in his palm. She pulled away from him, careful not to hurt. He would have enough bruises from her manhandling. “Get Marcus and Eric, meet me at the cliff. Zach will need Marcus to heal him, if I can—” She cut herself off, refusing to even think of the possibility. “Go!”

She sprinted down the alley, knowing she would have to stall James until they brought the card, trick him into thinking she had it. And pray for Zach to hold on until she got to him.

*

P
ain threatened to consume him.

Every movement was white-hot agony. The blade shredded Zach’s strength, its power pushing at his, trying to find a way in. Only an instinctive barrier kept it from consuming him. Zach was sure he could thank his former incarnation for that.

He fought to breathe, and each breath hurt more than the last. The only advantage was that the pain overrode any need to find. He would have to remember that for later. If there was a later.
Don’t go there—Mom’s coming. Just hang on.

He heard James muttering, an accent that had always been just under his voice more pronounced with every word.

“How the bloody hell does she know?” James jerked him off the tree-lined path, and agony dropped Zach to the ground. “It’s a good thing we are here, seeker.” Zach bit his lip on a scream. James pushed at him until he lay on his back, the trees shading him from the pale, late afternoon sun.

He wanted to yank out the knife, wanted it so badly his hand kept inching toward the hilt. But part of him knew that he would only bleed faster if he did.

“Not dying already, are we? I did so want you to watch while I choke the life out of your dear mother. After I learn who she was.”

He stalked away, rubbing his bald head and talking to himself. Zach dug his left hand into the cold grass, held on to the knowledge that Mom was on her way, and kept breathing.

*

S
imon pulled his cell phone out and dialed Eric’s number, figuring he would be the most level headed of the group.

“Simon?”

“I don’t have time to explain, so just listen.” He gave a two sentence recap. “Claire wants you to meet her at the cliff where she fought Natasha, said you’d understand.”

“Yeah—I do.”

“Bring the card, and Marcus. And leave Annie behind if you can.”

“Right.” Eric let out a sigh. “You know where it is?”

“I’m following Claire. I’ll meet you there.”

He ended the call, never taking his eyes off the slight figure running ahead of him. She was so intent on her target, she never looked behind her. Simon fully expected her to turn on him at any moment. It didn’t look like that was going to happen.