Carry On Wayward Son Part 6

Laughter bubbled out of Hillary. "Seriously?"

"To my constant embarra.s.sment. He can't take Claire out of the house, because he can't leave. We managed at least that much before he crashed the party."

Wincing, she s.h.i.+fted up on her side, tried to a.s.sess the damage to her hip. "I can't get to it-"

Regina knelt next to her. "I'll do it. There will be pain."

"Oh, I have no doubt." She sucked in her breath as fingers touched her hip, told herself she wouldn't scream.

"I'm sorry," Regina said.

Annie grit her teeth. "Okay."

"Do you prefer rip or peel?"

Annie glanced up at her. "What?"

"Which band aid method do you prefer-peel it off, or rip?"

She swallowed, closed her eyes briefly. "Rip."

"Hil, can you get the aloe out of the bathroom? And a gla.s.s of water." Regina touched Annie's cheek. "It looks like a bad sunburn. How does it feel?"

"Like I backed into a stove."

"Ouch. Thank you, honey." Regina lifted Annie's head enough for her to take a drink out of the gla.s.s. The water cooled her raw throat. "Now, I'm going to pour the rest of this over the burn, to help loosen the fabric, and we'll see what we have."

Hillary sat, pillowed Annie's head in her lap. "Just relax. Mom's really good at this."

"Accident p.r.o.ne?"

Hillary smiled. "Yeah."

"Me, too. Major-" She flinched as water slid over the burn, took in a shaky breath. "Major growth spurt at twelve equals clumsy teenage years. You grow out of it-oh, d.a.m.n-"

"Sorry." Regina held on to her leg as air hit bare skin. "I'm going to squeeze some aloe on it. I'm afraid after the cooling relief that it's going to sting."

Sting was an understatement. Only Hillary's presence kept Annie from cursing more than she already had. But she knew from experience it would feel better once the raging burn settled.

"Hillary." Annie flinched at her raw voice. Clearing her throat, she looked up at the girl. "When you first saw him, did you think he was a ghost?"

She bit her lip, shook her head, sneaking a glance at her mom. "I thought he was an angel."

"Guardians are a giant step below angels. They were human once, and now they're working their way into Heaven. So they have all our emotions, just enhanced-serious pride, a short fuse, and less compa.s.sion than you'd think, them being an angel now."

"So, not the warm and fuzzy guardian angels of legend and lore," Regina said.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"I never believed they were real." Carefully, Regina laid the gorgeous silk scarf that was tucked into the neckline of her sweater on Annie's hip. She cringed-more from the damage to the scarf than even that light weight on her burn. "I thought he was a ghost. I am so sorry I got you both into this mess."

"Don't blame-"

"I'll take the blame when it's due. So, what do we do next? I heard what he said." She reached out to Hillary. "We both heard."

"He can't hurt you, Regina. Not without it doing the karma bounce straight back at him. On top of that, guardians have a low pain threshold, because they don't get the joy of experiencing it very often."

"How do you know all this?" Hillary studied her, those brown eyes too intent. "You can't know-"

"I'm a witch, sweetheart. The real thing, not someone claiming to be in order to sell merchandise. That means I know far too much about a whole lot of obscure. And hanging around with Claire, I pick up things." Hillary smiled. "Why don't you help me sit? I think I can manage that. Then we'll go for standing."

Her head spun, but she managed to stay upright, two sets of hands steadying her until she could do it on her own.

"Once you're ready," Regina said. "There's a bed in the guest room at the end of the hall."

"No stairs-oh, bless you. I really, really didn't want to climb all those stairs." Regina laughed. "Do I sound as whiny as I think?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Mom says it all the time about Dad."

"Hillary! Were you eavesdropping, young lady?"

"I don't need to when you're shouting." She jumped to her feet, avoiding Regina's hand. "I don't need comforting, Mom. I'm old enough to understand you and Dad don't love each other anymore. That he doesn't want us anymore. That he loves some other woman more, wants her family instead of us-"

"Hillary." Pain scored Regina's voice. "That had nothing to do with you, and it's not your fault-"

"It's not yours, either!" Hillary turned on her mother. "And it's my fault the guardian angel is here! I asked for him-I begged for him to come and take me away, so I didn't have to hurt anymore-"

Regina stood and wrapped both arms around her when she burst into tears, looked over at Annie. "I am so sorry. If I had known-"

"We would have come, Regina. It doesn't matter if he was summoned. But it explains why he reacts like a teenager with a bad case of angst-he probably was one, before he died. Claire told me once that guardians are matched by age. And that means our captor has all the rage of a teenager, and the power to back it up."

Claire pounded on the door. Again.

"Zach!" He didn't answer the last three times she shouted for him. Fear curled through her at the thought of where he might be, what he might be doing that she couldn't prevent. "Zach, please-" Silence answered her. Again. "d.a.m.n."

Feeling helpless, she ran one hand through her hair, followed the come and go sunlight to the window, leaned her forehead against the cold gla.s.s. Her fingers rubbed at the leather band on her wrist, still able to feel the raised scar under the thin leather. A scar she couldn't look at without remembering every detail of the moment it happened- Movement caught her eye. She raised her head-and pressed both hands against the window when she spotted Simon, standing in the yard of the house directly behind them. Just his presence soothed the raw edges. And gave her an idea. A crazy, probably wouldn't work idea.

Searching the room, she found a small pad and pencil on the long dresser. Next to a cordless phone.

Claire laid her hand over it, closed her eyes. "Please."

She picked it up and hit the phone b.u.t.ton.

Instead of a dial tone, words poured out of the earpiece. Latin, ancient and powerful. She recognized the prayer-and with panic clawing through her she jammed her finger on the end b.u.t.ton and threw the phone across the room.

No-you can't cut him off and leave him here-it's worse than being trapped Between- "Which is exactly why they would do it-d.a.m.n them-"

The crazy idea became a way to save their captor from a fate worse than forever in Between: being left here to live among mortals, never able to be one of them.

Using the pencil, she scribbled a note on the pink, floral edged paper, folded it into a square, and headed back to the window.

To her relief, Simon was still there-and this time he spotted her. She saw the shock, the relief, and the fear for her that swirled around him. All layered with the compa.s.sion that was so much a part of him. She wedged the paper through a narrow s.p.a.ce between the frame and the sill, cursing when it stuck, just on the outside of the frame.

She turned, looking for something thin enough to slide under the window frame.

"Come on." She started opening drawers in the dresser. Most of them were still empty. "I just need a break here-" Yanking open yet another drawer, starting to panic now-Simon couldn't wait there much longer without being discovered-she let out her breath when she spotted a small manicure set.

She opened it, grabbed the nail file, and headed back to the window. The slim metal file slipped under the frame, caught the square of paper and pushed it all the way through. A breeze caught it. She pressed her hand against the window as it spiraled away from its target. "No-no, no, no-"

Below her, Simon moved, following the flutter of pink. They both froze as it hit the ground. On this side of the fence.

Simon looked up at her. Claire closed her eyes for a moment, surprised to find him still watching her. He seemed to know when he had her attention; he mimicked climbing over the fence.

"No, Simon-" She slapped the window. He saluted, and jogged out of sight. "d.a.m.n stubborn man."

He popped up over the top of the fence, landed lightly on her side. Praying Zach was somewhere without a window view, she watched Simon make his way to the small square of paper. And held her breath until he had it in his hand and was climbing back to safety.

With a relieved sigh, she turned away from the window, and froze inches from Zach.

"I allowed him to leave. He cannot harm me, not without harming you." Swallowing, Claire waited for him to tell her he knew-what she was, what she had been. Instead, he started pacing, favoring his left side, pain and anger flaring around him. "What was in the note, Claire?"

"I wanted him to know we were all right. You hardly left a good impression on him."

"And now you plot behind my back? Treat me as you would an ent.i.ty of evil?" He moved forward, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. The exhaustion he fought to hide leaked through. "Until I get what I want-until I have my life-no one leaves this place."

Before Claire could open her mouth he disappeared. Left her trapped in the locked room. Again.

Simon vaulted back over the fence so fast he brought some of it with him.

"d.a.m.n it-" He gripped his right wrist, cursing as he saw the thick splinters imbedded in his palm.

"Let me see." Eric cradled his hand, tested the splinters, smiling as Simon cursed louder. "Sorry, sorry. Those are really dug in. I have my bag in the car. Don't poke at them."

Simon opened his other hand, held out the crumpled paper to Theresa. "Open this for me, will you?"

She unfolded the paper, held it up just as Eric got back. "Sit," he said, setting his black medical bag on the lawn and kneeling next to it. "You can read it while I extract."

Simon raised one eyebrow-and jerked his hand away when he saw the tools in Eric's. "Oh, h.e.l.l no."

"Read the note, let me do what I do."

"You work on animals, last I checked." Eric merely smiled again and grabbed Simon's wrist.

"They're splinters. I think I can handle them without much bloodshed."

To distract himself, Simon nodded at Theresa. She held out the pink paper; it took a couple tries to decipher Claire's scribble. And when he finally did, he had to read it twice to actually believe it.

"d.a.m.n it, Claire-what did you step in?"

Brown eyes wide, Theresa stared up at him. "What is it?" She started to turn the note around.

"Don't bother-I'll just tell you." Maybe saying it out loud will make it seem less-surreal. "She wants to know if I can do a banis.h.i.+ng spell."

"For what?" Eric lowered the giant tweezers just before they gripped the first ugly splinter. "Are they dealing with another ghost possession?"

"If only it were that easy." Letting out his breath, Simon looked at them. "Heaven help me-she wants me to banish a guardian angel."

NINE.

Claire lowered herself to the only chair in the room, still shaken. Zach had to know about her; he cracked the wall blocking her power, touched her more than once. But he still treated her as if she were like the others. As if she was completely human.

Pressing one hand to her chest, she felt the scar, just below her sternum, where Natasha plunged the knife into her the night everything changed. The night she gave her life to save her friends.

Now it ached, throbbing, as the wall Zach fractured, the wall Azazel built to block her power, started to crumble. She didn't know what lay behind it, and part of her was terrified that the demon waited, crouching behind her s.h.i.+ny new soul.

If that were the truth, if Azazel left that part of her inside, she had no way to keep it contained-both her tattoos, her barriers between her true self and the world, were broken, cut by iron and steel.

She would not put the people trapped with her in danger, and she no longer knew if the angel she had been or the demon she became when she fell would win. She had touched too much evil, lost too much of herself, to know where she stood anymore.

Fighting it exhausted her, but she didn't know what else to do. She wanted so badly to tell Simon, have him on her side, by her side when the wall finally came down. Just in case.

She felt herself sway, and slid off the chair, sinking to the floor. Her hand closed around the amethyst at her throat, and the heat already radiating from it surprised her. It was usually cool to the first touch-even when her fingers warmed it, the stone had never given off so much- Sand burst up from the floor, swirled around her, a barrier between her and the room. She knew it was illusion-she felt the tug of power even as the heat wrapped around her, and the sand inched closer. Wind whipped through her hair. She smelled spice, and the sweet, woody scent of frankincense. Sand and wind surrounded her, erased the room-and shoved her into the whirlwind.

With a gasp she covered her face, tumbled across a hard floor and on to a thin carpet. Silence replaced the constant keening. Uncurling herself, Claire lifted her head. And looked straight into a nightmare.

TEN.

"A guardian angel." Eric finished bandaging Simon's hand. "Are they actually real?"