Part 7 (1/2)
”I never met one, but then I didn't think a ghost could completely take over a living body until I met you all. I'm inclined to believe.”
”Okay, then. Next question: how do we get in to do the banis.h.i.+ng?”
Simon looked over at the big Victorian. The alien power pulsed now, power he understood he'd never seen before because he had never encountered angels, in any form. Until Claire. She dragged more impossible into his life in so short a time he was surprised his head wasn't spinning.
”Last try got us blasted across the lawn.” Simon ran his left hand over his cropped hair, his right hand smarting from the splinters Eric yanked out of his palm. The bandage made him feel clumsy, but blood dripping down his arm would be a deterrent. ”Claire seems to think as long as I can get close enough for this guardian to hear my voice, the banis.h.i.+ng will work.”
Theresa crossed her arms. ”Do you know a banis.h.i.+ng spell?”
”An old one. Don't look so surprised.” He smiled when she raised her eyebrows. ”I have and do read every obscure text I can get my hands on. One of them had a banis.h.i.+ng spell. It was in Latin, so I practiced by memorizing it.” With a sigh, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. ”Now all we have to do is get me, or my voice, close enough.”
”What if we project your voice, like over a loudspeaker?”
Simon shook his head. ”Santa Luna seems to attract more than its share of the supernatural. I don't know what this would do to any-thing, that may be in striking distance. So that's out.”
Eric threw in his two cents. ”If we got you close enough to the house and created some kind of distraction-”
”Blasted across the lawn.”
Eric blew out a breath, ”Right. What if-”
”I can be the distraction.” Theresa's quiet voice had them both looking at her. Simon laid one hand on her shoulder, opened his mouth. ”I can do this, Simon. He hasn't seen me, so he won't know I'm with you. I can keep him occupied long enough for you to do what you need.”
”No, Theresa.”
”Why?” She jerked out of his grasp. ”Because I'm not capable? Because I let you down and ran away when you and Claire needed me?”
A combination of grief and remorse clutched him. ”Theresa-”
”Let me help you now. For Dad.” Tears filled the dark brown eyes, but didn't spill over. That hurt him more than if she simply cried. ”You can trust me, Simon. I won't let you down.”
”I wasn't-”
”Yes, you were.” She smiled. He'd forgotten how much her smile could light up her face. ”And I don't blame you. Look-we're eating up valuable time. I go to the front door, be the neighbor, or-someone. I'll think of who by the time I get there. You go around back-there has to be a back door in a house this size.” She waved her hands at them. ”Go on-I'll take care of the keeping him occupied part. You take care of the sending him back where he came from part.”
”I know you want to help, sweetheart, but-”
”Cut her a break, Simon.” Eric stepped up, surprising him. ”She can give us the time we need-”
”I won't jeopardize her, not when we have other options-”
”What options? We can't even get close to the d.a.m.n place, as you so delicately pointed out.”
”So we'll find another-s.h.i.+t.”
Theresa was gone.
Simon ran across the yard and down to the street corner, skidding to a halt. He caught Eric's arm as he saw her, heading up the long sidewalk to the Victorian.
He couldn't call out, couldn't stop her, and d.a.m.n if she didn't know it.
Helpless, he watched her walk straight toward the hot zone.
ELEVEN.
Marcus knelt on the stone floor, wrapped in chain and blood.
Steel chain-to cripple his power.
Half a dozen men stood over him, one of them holding a stained whip. Claire hugged the wall behind her, hidden by the flickering shadows. It was solid, real. She was here.
The man holding the whip spoke, his light voice edged with satisfaction. ”You will make your confession, Marcus of Sinai, and accept the sentence laid down by this council.” The whip dragged across stone, leaving behind a dark trail. ”Will you speak?”
Swallowing, Marcus said nothing. Before she could react the whip snapped up and out, sliced into already lacerated skin. Marcus hunched over, his sweat soaked hair nearly touching the floor. Agony wrapped him like a shroud.
His tormentor raised the whip again-and Claire pushed off the wall.
”Stop!”
He spun, a knife in his free hand. Shaking, she moved out of the shadows, and stepped between him and Marcus. He hissed, raised his knife. Silver flared around the man, and she realized he was Jinn. ”Demon-you dare walk among us-”
”Harm her, Baran, and it will be your life.” Marcus lifted his head; she sucked in a breath when she saw the ugly welt across his left cheek. Pain sc.r.a.ped his sand rough voice. ”Claire, what are-Baran no-”
She whirled, warned by the panic in his voice-just in time to see Baran raise the whip and snap it forward. Flinging up her arm, she covered her face and stepped in front of the whip.
”Claire!”
Fire ripped across her forearm. She locked her knees, waited for the next blow, determined Marcus wouldn't be hurt again- ”Enough.” The giant figure appeared in front of her, catching the whip in his hand. With a start she recognized him-Jamal, the man who had been training with Marcus, teasing him about her. Yanking the whip out of Baran's hand, he turned, clear, sharp green eyes studying her. ”Give me your arm, child.”
She obeyed, dizzy with pain, wanting to sink to the floor. Instead, she watched him remove a length of red silk wrapped around his waist and use it to bind her arm. ”Thank you,” she whispered.
”Sit now, before you topple over.” He eased her to the floor, crouched in front of Marcus. ”This is how you talk your way free?”
Marcus raised his head, blood sliding down his throat. ”I was ambushed, on my way to the trial.” Claire flinched at his raw voice.
”I gave you the time you asked me for. You should be grateful I decided to break my promise and check on you.”
Marcus sucked in his breath as Jamal touched the chains trapping him. They snapped open and clattered to the stone floor.
Baran's furious roar brought Jamal to his feet. ”You dare interfere- ”You dare question my authority?” Jamal raised his arms and every door in the chamber slammed shut. The other men trying to quietly sneak out froze. ”You may not agree with my decisions, Baran,” Jamal stepped to him, towering over the smaller Jinn. ”But you will obey them. Marcus will be freed. This woman knows him, bears witness to his redemption, and I believe her.”
She gave Baran credit; however foolish, he refused to back down. ”I have not heard this evidence-”
”And you never will. That is for me to decide, and I decide, demon or no, that she knows the truth.” Jamal leaned down, until he was eye level, spoke in ancient Arabic. The Jinn's face paled, and Claire understood who Jamal was. What he was. ”Leave us, before I bestow on you the punishment you gave Marcus.”