What Doesn't Kill You (3 page)

“Yoga,” he said. “And I’ve been learning how to surf.” His voice was deeper, edged with the same humor she always heard in Annie’s. It took a moment for her to realize he answered her unasked question. She raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged. “New talent. It only works with certain people.”

“I hope you haven’t—” She stopped herself before she could finish lecturing him. She didn’t have the right anymore. “Come in and sit down. Are you hungry?”

“Always.” He sat on the sofa, a smile touching his mouth. “And I don’t invade anyone’s mind. Not intentionally. I’ve learned how to pull back.” He tore open the bag of chips she had set on the coffee table, stuffed a handful in his mouth as he eyed the wrapped sandwiches. “Is that roast beef?” The hope in his chip-muffled voice had her smiling.

“Fresh from Lily’s. There’s another one in the fridge, if that isn’t enough.” So far, their exchange had been easy, normal. She knew that would change as soon as she finished her next sentence. “We can talk while you eat.”

His hand froze above the sandwich, retreated. “I’d rather talk first.”

“Your choice, Zach. If you want to eat first, I can wait.”

“Stop.” Startled, she lowered herself to the sofa. “I don’t want you to be polite, like I’m some stranger, or a guest. I want you to talk to me like before. I miss that.” He stared down at his hands. “I miss you. Mom.”

Tears stung her eyes. “I miss you as well, Zach. I am so sorry, for keeping the truth from you. For lying to you. I wanted your life to be as normal as possible, until you found your place in it.”

“Finding out the way I did was shocking. I didn’t handle it very well.” He reached out, hesitant. Claire gripped his hand, and with a choked sob, pulled him into her arms. She let out her breath when he returned the embrace, the ache easing. “I’m sorry, Mom. I hurt you, and it was wrong. I never meant to stay away, but it just got harder, what I said to you just getting bigger every day. After a while, I didn’t know how to get past it.”

“We both walked the same path, sweetheart.” She eased back, brushed hair off his cheek. “I hurt you, and it tore at me, knowing I couldn’t take back what happened to you, couldn’t change it. I would do it for you again, without hesitating.” He closed his eyes. “No, Zach, no more hiding from it.” He looked at her, clear blue eyes shadowed. “What you were is part of who you are now. You need to accept it, and move on. Your past is going to shape you, whether you want it to or not.”

“Since it’s already started, I can’t say you’re wrong.”

“Before we eat, I do need to tell you one more thing.” She took a deep breath, aware it could break their fragile peace. But he had the right to know. “Marcus asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

“Wow.” He sat back, running one hand through his hair. “Are you happy?”

“Incredibly. It feels right, Zach. And I never expected to have any kind of connection, with anyone. What I was, what I had done—”

“You don’t need to rehash, Mom.” He looked almost panicked. Claire figured he had reached information overload, and took pity on him.

“I love him, and I know he will make me happy.” She touched the amethyst heart at her throat. “But you are always right here. Whether you decide to come home or not, you will always be in my heart.”

A blush spread over his cheeks. “We done talking now?”

She laughed, ruffled his hair. The boy she brought home was still in there. “We’re done.”

He let out his breath and leaned forward, picking up the plate with the sandwich. “Are you eating?”

“If you want me to join you.”

“Duh.” He smiled, and laughter burst out of her. It felt good—to see her son smile, to joke with him. To touch him. It was only the beginning of a long road back. But it was a beginning. A hopeful one.

*

C
laire had said goodbye to Zach last night, sending him back to Annie’s for now. But he showed up this morning to help Claire open the shop, for the first time since he left.

She planned on it being the first of many more.

They fell easily into their former routine, and Zach munched on the breakfast burrito she’d picked up for him while he booted up the computer. Claire joined him behind the counter and lowered herself to the stool she kept tucked in a corner, blaming her exhaustion on too little sleep.

Half an hour into opening she knew it was going to be one of her bad days.

“Zach?” He stuck his head out from behind the tall display shelf. “Can you bring out the box on the table in the back room? I want to redo the jewelry display.”

“Sure.” He didn’t question, since hauling boxes was part of his duties.

Claire pulled the stool over to the glass case while he was out of sight. She wanted to be settled when he came back, so he wouldn’t see her shaking—or worse, have her legs give out in front of him.

By the time he came back she sat in front of the case, and had the top braced open. “Thank you, sweetheart. Just set it on the corner. And can you do me another favor? I am really craving one of Lily’s protein smoothies.”

“Okay.” She almost laughed at the way his eyes lit up. Some things never changed, and that lightened her heart.

“My purse is under the counter. Take enough to get a snack for yourself.”

“You’re sure?”

She smiled. “Trust me, you’ll earn everything you eat.”

“I can eat more than you think.”

She did laugh this time, and watched him tuck her small wallet in his shirt pocket before all but sprinting out of the shop. With him gone, and the shop empty for the moment, she let the exhaustion wash over her, knowing by now that fighting it would just mean a more vicious backlash later.

When her hand stopped trembling, she focused on the box, and pulled out the first of the hand crafted jewelry. It had been sourced for her by Michelle and Penn, made by an acquaintance of theirs in England, and would be an exotic, welcome change from the same old pendants and crystals she usually carried.

This jewelry designer, a genius with silver and stones, took crystals that complemented each other and turned them into bracelets that caressed the wrist, and multilayered charms that could be worn singly on a chain, or combined to strengthen the crystals. Penn told her the designer was Wiccan; Claire admired the artist’s vast knowledge of crystal magic and healing. Just handling the gorgeous pieces helped boost her energy.

But not enough to keep her from dropping another bracelet on the floor. The third one in ten minutes. She pushed herself off the stool and braced her hand on it, knowing she would need the leverage to stand.

“Can I get that for you?” She stilled at the unfamiliar voice. He didn’t give her a chance to turn around; she felt him beside her as one graceful hand appeared, picking up the bracelet. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.” When she straightened and turned around, she was surprised that she stood almost eye level with him. After hearing the deep voice, she expected him to be tall.

Her second shock came after his fingers brushed her hand. A sharp burst of power scorched her, had her stumbling backward.

“I’ve got you.” He was stronger than he looked. Lean, wiry arms wrapped around her, helped her back on the stool. “Can I get anything for you?”

“My pride.” Claire smiled at his warm laugh. Sitting on the high stool put her at eye level, and he had beautiful brown eyes, with the long, thick lashes most women would kill for. His smooth, shaved head only accentuated them. She looked away before her staring became rude. “Thank you for the hand up. Can I help you find anything?”

“Actually, I came hoping for a tarot lesson. But if you are not up to it—”

“If it’s sitting, I’m good. And the lesson will be free, since you so graciously kept me from becoming better acquainted with my floor. I don’t mean to be rude, after your assistance, but have we met before?”

He shook his head. “Trust me, I’d remember meeting you.”

“I must be thinking of someone else.” But it nagged at the back of her mind. Those eyes—she had seen them before. And not recently, not in the life she created for herself here.

He helped her stand, and the power touched her again—this time like a warm breeze, coiling through her, moving deeper with each breath. It felt—glorious. And her exhaustion fled, leaving behind a strength she hadn’t felt since she couldn’t remember when. “The table is in the back,” she said. “Let me get my deck and I will—”

“We can use mine.” He opened his hand, revealing a palm-sized deck. Overhead light slid off the gilt edges, the gold leaf and raised jewel tone decoration on the face of the top card. Queen of Swords. Claire stared at the deck. She wasn’t wrong about her memory this time. She had seen this deck before, in a different century. His deep, smooth voice broke into her thoughts. “I’ve been insufferably rude, not introducing myself. I am James.” He held out his right hand.

She took it, his grip warm, the power humming through her warmer. “Claire Wiche. One E, no T.”

“As in The Wiche’s Broom? It’s quite catchy. I almost chose your competitor, The Witch’s Way, but the vibe here seemed more—attractive.”

“Agnes—Madam Serena—is a better tarot reader than I am.”

He followed her back to the small table. “I think the ambience will more than compensate.” With every touch, her strength and well-being blossomed. He obviously had some kind of healing talents, like Zach.

Her euphoria flinched at the thought of Zach. She pushed it aside; they were good now, and he should be here any moment. She could hardly wait to show him the deck. It was an incredible specimen. She’d worked with similar decks when she spent a few years in Eastern Europe, hiding from witch hunters. Fools.

Halting, she shook her head, pushing away the memory. She had not thought of her time as a demon, exiled from Hell, not for years. Even Natasha didn’t bring them back—only the shame of what she had done.

Taking a deep breath, she eased away from James, and sat across from him. He laid the deck on the black velvet cloth, his elegant hands on either side. “I would like to try a simple spread, to start. I will warn you in advance—I am quite the novice.”

Claire thought of Mildred, and smiled. “You will not be my only neophyte. Have you laid out a three card spread before?” He nodded. Now that there was distance between them, she felt less drunk on his presence. He was potent. “Good. Let me see you do one now.”

“After you cut the deck.” His smile told her she’d been caught out.

“Excellent. You’re further along than most of my students.” Reaching for the cards, she closed her fingers over them. Heat shot up her arm; instead of dropping the cards, her fingers tightened over them, the heat bringing with it a clarity she had not felt for some time. After cutting the deck, she placed it in front of him, her fingers reluctantly letting go. “Ready.”

“Your question?”

Tapping her chin, she decided to make it an easy one. And general enough for him to read the cards without too much finessing. “What does my future hold?”

He shook his head, a knowing gleam in those rich brown eyes, and shuffled the deck. With an ease she didn’t expect, he laid out the cards, upside down, revealing them one at a time.

“Your past—The Tower, upright. You’ve had a turbulent one.” Claire smiled at him when he looked at her, obviously waiting for a comment.

“The next card, please.”

“All right then, moving on.” He turned over the second card. “Your present—Justice, upright. Another Major Arcana. Interesting. Looks like you are on the edge of an important decision.”

She clutched the sides of the chair, out of his sight. That was too close; the cards never read for her. What was so different about this deck?

“And now for your future.” James turned over the third card, and her heart skipped. “Ah, The Empress, upright. There is a family in your future, perhaps a child?” The accent touched his voice again. British, high society British. “Looks like your future is going to be eventful. May I?” He held out his hand. “I do a bit of palm reading.”

Claire laid her hand in his, despite her. More warmth spread through her, wrapped around her soul, finding that dark, almost forgotten part of her. She took in a deep breath, the last of her weakness gone, and smiled at him.

*

Z
ach came in through the back door, not wanting to bring food through the shop, in case there were customers. He looked down at his haul, and shook his head. Even for him, this was quite a sizable snack.

Munching on the last bite of his first breakfast burrito, he nearly choked when Marcus bolted through the back door.

“Where is she?” Before Zach could answer Marcus grabbed him, those weird green and gold eyes almost solid gold. “Where is Claire?”

Zach managed to swallow while Marcus manhandled him. “Out front—what?” He hadn’t seen Marcus look this freaked out since Mom—

Since Mom died. He’d never forget those endless minutes, before the spell broke the curse that held her, brought her back.

“She is different—can you not sense it?”

Zach let him go, touched the amethyst pendant he wore. The pendant Mom gave him before he fell, and became human. “No—there’s nothing—”

“I’ve felt this before.” Moving past Zach, he muttered under his breath. “Gods, please let me be wrong.”

Spooked, Zach followed him into the shop, and found Mom, sitting at the table with a stranger. She looked fine. Until she laughed.

The sound of it clawed at him, sharp bursts of pain that raked his soul.

Marcus let out a low growl and jerked the man out of the chair. “Get out. Return and I will destroy you with my bare hands.”

“Marcus!” Mom practically leapt across the table, reaching for the man. She looked—wrong. “He has done nothing. Take your hands off him—”

“You will leave,” Marcus said, like Mom wasn’t even there, or clawing at him like an angry cat. “Are we understood?”

The man nodded, backing away when Marcus let him go. “I’m sorry. I only wanted a tarot lesson. My cards?” He inched forward, scooped them off the table, and sidestepped toward the front door, never taking his gaze off Marcus. “I’m sorry, Claire.”